She took a deep breath and turned toward her office, determined to do whatever was necessary to put the Mayfields away for life, even though she had to absorb details that would haunt her forever.
She’d do it for Luna.
And then she’d go see Luna’s mother.
* * *
Tracy dreaded having to tell Ethan that Luna was dead. He’d been quiet and withdrawn since they’d brought him home from the hospital as he seemed to be processing the events of the past forty-eight hours. She’d been in touch with his therapist, Dr. Christi Trulo-Carpenter, the daughter of Sam’s colleague. Christi had offered to come to the house in the morning, and Tracy had gratefully accepted.
Ethan was in no condition to go anywhere. Not now, anyway.
She carried a tray upstairs to Ethan’s room, which Brooke and Nate had put back to rights after the house had been searched for evidence. Though she’d understood the necessity, Tracy felt further violated having their things rifled through by strangers. She told herself the only thing that mattered was that her son was home safe, but after having been through the aftermath of Brooke’s assault, she knew the healing wouldn’t happen overnight. When the dust settled, she’d be left to wonder who she’d pissed off in a previous life that had led to two of her three children being the victims of traumatic crimes.
Ethan was sitting up in bed, a pile of pillows behind him, covered by the Capitals’ team blanket she’d bought him for Christmas.
“I made you some of that chicken noodle soup you like,” she said as she placed the tray on his lap. “With oyster crackers, of course.”
They were his favorite.
“Thanks.”
She’d also made him a cup of hot chocolate with marshmallows and had put yellow sandwich cookies in a bowl, hoping that seeing his favorites would get him to eat something.
But he only stared down at the tray, unseeing.
“Have a bite, honey. You need to keep up your strength.” Tracy picked up the spoon to feed him like she had when he was a baby.
Thankfully, he opened his mouth to take the bite she offered.
They kept that up for several quiet minutes while he ate most of the soup and a handful of the crackers.
“You want some hot chocolate? It’s got the marshmallows you love.” She handed him the mug, and he took a sip.
“Thank you.”
He’d taken the bandages off the wounds on his wrists, which were red and raw.
“Is there any news about Luna?” he asked for the hundredth time.
Tracy hesitated, only for a second, but it was enough to alert him to something he didn’t want to hear.
“No.”
“I’m so sorry, honey.”
“Oh my God. She’s dead? She’s really dead?”
“She is.”
He let out an anguished cry that was so loud, Mike came running from wherever he was to see what was wrong.
Tracy took the mug, removed the tray, put it on the floor and crawled into bed to wrap her arms around Ethan as he sobbed.
His heartbroken wails wrecked her.
“What happened?” Mike asked.
Tracy ignored him to keep her focus on Ethan. He didn’t need to hear the news again. She hadn’t seen Ethan cry like this since he’d broken his wrist as a six-year-old, and it killed her to see him suffering. He also hadn’t clung to her in years the way he was now.
