“And your son is… deceased?” Daley asked.
“Yes,” I whispered. “Car accident. I saw him in the hospital. I saw the body. I watched them close the casket. I stood at his grave.”
“I’m not leaving him.”
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My voice cracked.
Evan pressed his face into my side.
“I don’t like when you say that,” he whispered. “It makes my tummy hurt.”
Ruiz stood silently for a second.
“Ma’am, we need to get him checked out,” she said. “If you’re okay with it, we’d like to take you both to the hospital. Let CPS and a detective meet you there.”
“I’m not leaving him,” I said.
Evan refused to let go of my hand.
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“You’re not required to,” Daley said. “You can stay with him the whole time.”
At the hospital, they put Evan in a small pediatric room with bright pictures on the walls.
Evan refused to let go of my hand.
A woman with a badge appeared in the doorway.
“Mrs. Parker? I’m Detective Harper,” she said gently. “I know this is… unbelievable. We’re going to try to get some answers.”
A doctor checked Evan over, then a nurse came in with swabs.
“Don’t leave,” he whispered.
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“We’d like to do a rapid parentage test,” Harper said. “It’ll tell us if he’s biologically yours. Is that something you’re comfortable with?”
“Yes,” I said immediately. “Please.”
Evan watched, anxious.
“What’s that?” he asked.
“It’s just like a Q-tip,” I said. “They rub it in your cheek. I’ll do it too.”
He let them swab his mouth. When they did mine, he grabbed my wrist.
“Don’t leave,” he whispered.
I sat in a plastic chair just outside his room. Evan watched cartoons, glancing over every few minutes.
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“I’m not going anywhere,” I said.
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