Chapter 2

Sloane’s last Instagram post was a photo from Chicago.

I didn't sleep.

I lay next to Bennett for six hours listening to him breathe, and somewhere around four I understood that I was going to do something, and that I couldn't tell him what it was.

By seven he was packing Wren's lunch. Apple slices cut thin, the way she likes them.

A sticky note with a dinosaur on it. He draws her a new one every morning.

He has never once missed a day.

I stood in the entryway with my hand on my carry-on and ran it through again.

"Daddy braids my hair better than you," Wren said from her stool, not looking up from her iPad.

I laughed. It came out tight. "Is that so."

"Daddy has a gentler touch."

"He does."

"And Daddy says sometimes sick mommies don't remember things."

The kitchen went very quiet.

"What, sweetie? Mommy isn't sick."

"Yes, you are." She looked up at me then. Wide open. Completely certain.

"Daddy said when you cry at night I shouldn't wake you up. He said you have bad dreams and you forget what's real."

"But it's okay, Mommy. Daddy and me are gonna take care of you."

I have never cried at night in my life.

"Emma." Bennett was holding out a travel mug. "You're going to miss your ride."

I took it. "Uber's ten minutes out."

He tucked a piece of hair behind my ear.

"Don't worry about anything here, sweetheart. If you get busy, don't worry about calling. Just focus on work. Enjoy the trip."

In the back of the Uber I got my phone out.

Bennett and I shared a Google Photos account. Everything syncs.

I scrolled back to the three days last month when he was at a conference in Los Angeles.

Nothing.

Then my thumb stopped on the last picture before the gap.

It was his desk in the study. Wallet, keys, a stack of paper. And on top of the stack, a camera.

A Polaroid.

Sloane's camera.

She'd had it since college. She took it everywhere.

The Uber put me at Departures at 9:40. I checked no bag. I went through security with my hands shaking so badly the TSA agent asked me twice if I was okay.

"Final boarding call, Flight 204 to Portland."

I was in my seat with my belt on when my phone buzzed.

Wren's class posted a new photo to the Parent Portal.

The plane started to push back. I tapped it.

Art class. The kids had drawn Contact Trees. Everybody's family in a circle.

Wren was in the middle of the frame, holding hers up.

I pinched the screen. The photo blew up and went soft.

Emergency Adult: M---

Not Bennett. Longer than Bennett.

M-a-r---

The wheel started spinning. The bars at the top of my screen dropped to nothing.

The engines came up.

No. Three more seconds. Three.

I clicked my fingernail against the screen, then the signal was gone.

Somewhere over Seattle it landed on me all at once, what I'd done.

I never turned off location sharing.

Right now, in Bennett’s study, my husband's phone was showing him a small blue dot moving south.

Away from Chicago. Toward Oregon.