Morales looked at me with something like pity.
“We’re trying to determine that.”
I pushed the photos away.
“Noah said Daniel was there.”
“We believe Daniel used the property recently,” Harris said. “We also found evidence suggesting your mother knew he was in Dallas.”
“Why hurt Noah?” I asked. “Why him?”
The three of them exchanged glances.
I hated them for it.
Finally, Harris said, “Because Noah saw something he wasn’t supposed to see.”
My son woke properly two days later.
He was still weak. Still bruised. Still connected to more machines than I could bear to count. But his eyes opened and stayed open, hazy blue and frightened.
I was there.
I had not left the hospital except to shower in the family room and change into clothes a nurse’s sister brought me from a donation closet.
“Mommy?” he whispered.
I nearly collapsed over him.
“I’m here, baby.”
