bottle of water, a jar of mustard, two ketchup packets, and a single bruised apple.
The freezer had been cleared out.
Every container of soup, chicken, pasta, and stew was gone.
So were the bottles of formula, the yogurt, the vegetables, the juice, and the meal-replacement drinks Claire’s doctor had recommended.
Taped to the refrigerator door was a piece of paper written in thick black marker.
Don’t call Ethan. He is working. Don’t create unnecessary drama.
Ethan slowly removed the note.
“Did my mother write this?”
Claire’s silence answered him.
PART 2 — The Vacation Photographs
Claire had been trying to protect him.
That was the first thing Ethan understood.
She had been in pain, hungry, frightened, and overwhelmed, yet she had still worried that telling him the truth might cost him his job.
Diane had repeatedly warned her not to interrupt Ethan’s assignment.
According to Claire, the postpartum nurse had
