Chapter 3
We left the hospital the next afternoon.
Anna was under strict orders to rest.
No stress.
No lifting.
No prolonged standing.
I almost laughed when the doctor said “no stress.”
Our entire life had become stress.
Detective Ramirez arranged for an officer to meet us at the house.
My mother had been released on bond that morning.
The emergency protective order prohibited her from approaching Anna or coming to the property.
But I no longer trusted paper to stop her.
When we reached home, Anna froze at the front door.
“You okay?”
She shook her head.
“I don't want to go inside.”
That hurt more than I expected.
This was our house.
We bought it three years ago.
We painted the nursery together.
We planted roses beside the porch.
Now my wife was afraid to enter it.
“We don't have to stay.”
“I need my things.”
“Then we get your things and leave.”
The officer entered first.
Everything appeared normal.
Too normal.
The bucket was gone.
The floor was clean.
Mom's luggage had disappeared.
I helped Anna upstairs.
She stopped outside the nursery.
“There.”
She pointed toward a bookshelf.
I saw nothing.
Then I moved closer.
A tiny black lens was hidden between two wooden decorations.
The officer leaned over.
“Don't touch it.”
He radioed someone.
Within an hour, Detective Cole arrived.
He removed the device carefully.
“Wireless camera.”
“Can you find out who accessed it?” I asked.
“Possibly.”
Anna sat on the hallway bench.
“She watched me in here.”
I crouched in front of her.
“We're leaving.”
“Where?”
“Hotel. My friend's place. Anywhere.”
Then we heard the officer call from downstairs.
“Detective?”
Cole went down.
I followed.
The officer stood in front of a kitchen cabinet.
Inside were three prescription bottles.
All labeled with Anna’s name.
I looked at my wife.
“Those yours?”
She came closer.
“No.”
Cole picked one up with gloves.
The label said a sedative had been prescribed two weeks ago.
Anna stared at it.
“I've never taken that.”
“Do you know this doctor?” Cole asked.
“No.”
My blood went cold.
Cole photographed the bottles.
“Don't touch anything else.”
Then we found the notebook.
It was hidden beneath towels in the guest bedroom where Mom had been staying.
The first pages contained grocery lists.
Appointments.
Phone numbers.
Then the entries changed.
June 18 — A cried after breakfast. Recorded 4 minutes.
June 21 — A refused to clean kitchen. Argument recorded.
June 27 — A slept until 10:15.
July 2 — A yelled. Strong evidence.
Anna read over my shoulder.
“I yelled because she poured my breakfast in the trash.”
My jaw tightened.
There were more entries.
July 5 — Contact Carol about temporary emergency guardianship.
July 8 — Doctor documentation.
July 11 — Medication.
I looked at Cole.
“What does medication mean?”
“We don't know yet.”
Anna turned pale.
“Mark.”
I caught her before she lost her balance.
“What?”
“She made me tea.”
“When?”
“Almost every night.”
Cole immediately asked, “Did it taste strange?”
“Sometimes bitter.”
The detective’s expression hardened.
“We need another medical evaluation.”
Anna began shaking.
“No. No, I was just at the hospital.”
“This matters.”
“What if she gave the baby something?”
I wrapped my arms around her.
“We’ll find out.”
Back at the hospital, doctors took blood and urine samples.
We waited three hours.
Finally, the physician returned.
“We found traces of a prescription sedative.”
Anna started crying.
“Could it hurt my baby?”
“The amount currently in your system is low. We’ll monitor both of you closely. Right now, fetal heart activity is reassuring.”
I closed my eyes.
My mother had drugged my wife.
I wanted to scream.
Instead, I called Detective Ramirez.
Her response was immediate.
“Don’t contact your mother.”
“I wasn’t planning to.”
“Good. Let us handle it.”
Then my sister Claire called.
I stared at the screen.
Anna whispered, “Answer.”
“Why?”
“Maybe she knows something.”
I put the call on speaker.
Claire was crying.
“Mark.”
“What?”
“Mom came to my house.”
I stood.
“When?”
“An hour ago.”
“She’s not supposed to—”
“I know.”
“What did she want?”
Claire’s breathing shook.
“She gave me a bag.”
“What bag?”
“She told me to hide it.”
Anna and I exchanged a look.
“Did you?”
“At first.”
“Claire.”
“I didn't know what was happening!”
“What is in it?”
“I opened it.”
Her voice cracked.
“There are documents. Medical forms. Pictures of Anna. Copies of messages.”
“What messages?”
“Texts between you and Anna.”
I frowned.
“That’s impossible.”
“They're printed.”
Anna sat upright.
Claire continued.
“And Mark... some of them make Anna look terrible.”
“What do you mean?”
“One says she wishes the baby would disappear.”
Anna gasped.
“I never wrote that!”
“I know.”
“How do you know?”
“Because the date is June tenth.”
“So?”
“You were both at my house that day.”
I remembered.
Claire’s daughter’s graduation party.
Anna and I had been together almost the entire afternoon.
Claire lowered her voice.
“There’s something else.”
I felt dread spreading through me again.
“What?”
“A signed statement.”
“From who?”
“Mom.”
“What does it say?”
“That Anna threatened suicide and threatened the baby.”
Anna’s face went white.
I gripped the phone.
“That’s a lie.”
“I know.”
Claire started crying harder.
“I didn’t believe you this morning.”
I said nothing.
“I thought Anna had turned you against Mom.”
Still nothing.
“Mark, I’m sorry.”
“Bring the bag to the police.”
“I will.”
“Do not tell Mom where you’re going.”
“I won't.”
Then Claire whispered, “There’s one more thing.”
“What?”
“A hospital form.”
Anna slowly stood.
“What hospital form?”
“It looks like a psychiatric admission request.”
I felt every muscle in my body tighten.
Claire continued.
“It has Anna’s information already filled in.”
“Who signed it?”
“Mom.”
“That's impossible.”
“No.”
May you like
Claire took a shaky breath.
“She signed your name too.”
