My chest tightened painfully. Ethan had always been steady, thoughtful, careful. The idea of him speaking that way felt wrong. Lily was not a child who made things up. She told the truth even when it got her in trouble.
“When did that happen?” I asked.
“A couple of weeks ago,” she said. “Then Mommy started acting strange too. Checking her phone all the time. Looking at Daddy funny. Before she left for Aunt Michelle’s, she told him she needed space to think.”
That phrase stayed with me. Needed space to think. It sounded heavier than a casual visit.
I looked down again, my attention snagging on something near the pedals. Tucked beneath the steering column was a small black object, barely visible unless you were looking for it. It was secured with tape that looked hurried, uneven.
I leaned closer, my pulse thudding in my ears.
I was no expert, but I recognized it enough to feel my hands start to shake. Some kind of tracking or monitoring device.
I sat back slowly, my thoughts racing. If someone had placed a device in the car, it meant someone was paying attention to where it went. To who drove it.
I thought of Ethan. Of Rachel. Of Lily.
I thought of how Lily had said the car felt like it was listening.
“Okay,” I said, forcing calm into my voice. “We are getting out of this car. Right now.”
Her shoulders sagged with relief.
“We are going to take a rideshare home,” I continued. “Grandma needs to talk to Grandpa.”
“Is Daddy in trouble?” Lily asked.
“I do not know,” I said honestly. “But we are going to figure it out together.”
I ordered a ride and texted my husband Dennis while we waited near a coffee shop. My fingers trembled as I typed.
We need to talk. Something is wrong with Ethan’s car. Coming home another way. Please do not let anyone leave.
His response came quickly.
Are you okay?
Yes. Is Ethan there?
A pause.
He arrived about twenty minutes ago. Said he needed to talk to me. What is happening?
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