“No.”
The officer guided me into the kitchen.
The moment Ethan saw me, he ran into my arms.
I held him so tightly that he whimpered.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered, immediately loosening my grip. “I’m sorry, sweetheart.”
His body trembled against mine.
Outside, the second officer opened the canvas bag.
I couldn’t see everything from the kitchen window.
But I saw stacks of photographs.
Several envelopes.
A small silver camera.
Then the officer pulled out a bundle of children’s clothing.
My knees weakened.
Ethan buried his face against my shoulder.
“Mom, I didn’t put it there.”
“I know.”
“Melissa told me not to tell.”
I knelt in front of him.
“What did she tell you, exactly?”
He rubbed his eyes.
“She said the bag belonged to a bad man. She said he might come back for it.”
I stared at him.
“What bad man?”
“The one who watches the bus.”
