Chapter 2 - Ethan Knew Where the Jewelry Went
For several seconds, nobody said anything.
Diane recovered first.
“That is enough.”
Her voice had changed.
No longer furious.
Controlled.
That scared me more.
I kept Lily against me while carefully moving away from the shattered glass.
“Ethan,” I said, “look at me.”
He didn’t.
“Ethan.”
Slowly, he lifted his eyes.
“Did your dad take Grandma’s jewelry?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“You said he took the red box.”
Diane interrupted.
“He’s confused.”
Ethan flinched.
That was when I realized he wasn’t afraid of me.
He was afraid of her.
I carried Lily into the adjoining living area, wiped cereal from her face with a clean towel, then returned with her still in my arms.
Diane had moved from the broken table to a dining chair.
Ethan remained standing where I had left him.
“Tell me about the box,” I said.
He swallowed.
“It’s Grandma’s jewelry box.”
Diane shot upright.
“Ethan.”
His shoulders rose toward his ears.
I turned on her.
“Don’t.”
She stared at me.
“For the next five minutes, you do not tell either child what to say.”
“This is my family.”
“So is Lily.”
Her mouth tightened.
That one landed.
Ethan spoke again.
“Dad had it.”
“When?”
“Last night.”
“Where?”
“In Grandma’s room.”
Diane stood.
“He was not in my room.”
“Yes, he was,” Ethan whispered.
She looked at him with open disbelief.
He shrank back.
I felt sick.
I had seen that expression before.
Not today.
Over months.
Diane would praise Ethan when he agreed with her and turn icy when he disappointed her.
Until that morning, I had told myself it was an overly involved grandmother.
Now I wondered how much pressure had been hiding inside that favoritism.
“What did your dad do?” I asked.
“He opened the box.”
“Then what?”
“He put stuff in a black bag.”
Diane’s face changed.
Just slightly.
But I caught it.
“What stuff?” I asked.
“The necklace. The bracelet. The green earrings.”
“Emerald earrings,” Diane snapped automatically.
I looked at her.
She realized her mistake.
Ethan continued.
“He said, ‘This stays somewhere safe until I know what Mom is doing.’”
Mom.
Caleb called Diane Mom.
My husband had known something was happening.
He had said nothing to me.
That hurt almost as much as the mystery itself.
“Where is your father now?”
Ethan shrugged.
“He left early.”
I knew that.
Caleb had kissed me goodbye before seven, saying he needed to handle something at the bank before work.
At the bank.
I suddenly understood part of it.
I pulled out my phone.
Three missed calls from Caleb.
All during the chaos.
I called him.
He answered immediately.
“Natalie?”
“Where are you?”
A pause.
“At First Commonwealth.”
“The bank.”
“Yes.”
“Do you have Diane’s jewelry?”
Silence.
That silence told me Ethan had been telling the truth.
“Caleb.”
“I have some of it.”
Across the room, Diane closed her eyes.
Some.
Not all.
“How much?”
“Three pieces.”
Diane suddenly stood.
“You had no right!”
I turned away from her.
“Why?”
Caleb lowered his voice.
“Because something is wrong with Mom’s story.”
My pulse increased.
“What story?”
“The jewelry wasn’t all stolen at the same time.”
I looked at Diane.
She had gone rigid.
Caleb continued.
“I found an appraisal envelope in her desk yesterday. Two of the pieces she says disappeared this week were photographed and evaluated months ago.”
“So?”
“So the notes say ‘sale preparation.’”
I stared at the broken table.
Lily tightened her arms around my neck.
Caleb said, “I removed the pieces I could still find before anything else disappeared.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
Another pause.
“Because Ethan was involved.”
My eyes moved immediately to him.
He started crying.
Not loudly.
Quietly.
The way children cry when they have been carrying fear for too long.
“What does that mean?” I asked.
Caleb exhaled.
“He didn’t steal anything.”
Diane said sharply, “Hang up.”
I ignored her.
Caleb continued.
“But your question shouldn’t be why Ethan knew I moved the jewelry.”
“What should it be?”
“Ask him why Grandma had him put an empty velvet jewelry pouch in Lily’s bedroom.”
I looked at Ethan.
His eyes widened.
Diane shot to her feet.
And that was when I understood something far worse than a missing bracelet.
May you like
Someone had been preparing evidence against my four-year-old daughter.
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