Chương 3
Celia’s face tightened.
“He was already outside the school when I arrived.”
Daniel opened his eyes.
“What?”
“He was in the pickup lane. Toby was sitting in his car.”
The vending machine compressor clicked on.
Daniel heard the low mechanical buzz and the crackle of the man’s cracker wrapper. Nothing else seemed to move.
“How did Toby get into his car?”
“Dad was listed as an emergency contact.”
“No, he wasn’t.”
Celia looked at him.
“The school said he was.”
Daniel’s stomach turned cold.
He had removed Victor’s name two years earlier, after Nora’s funeral, when Victor appeared at Toby’s kindergarten without warning and told the teacher he had come to take his grandson for ice cream.
Daniel had completed the form himself. He remembered pressing the pen so hard on the paper that the last letter of Victor’s name tore through to the sheet beneath it.
“Did the school check his identification?”
“I don’t know.”
“Did you call the police then?”
“He said you knew. Toby looked fine. He was waving at me through the window. I thought I could deal with Peanut and pick him up after.”
“How long was Toby with him?”
“Two hours. Maybe a little more.”
“And when you got there?”
Celia looked down at the blood on her sleeve.
“Dad’s front door was open. Toby was in the driveway.”
Daniel’s hands curled.
“Where was Victor?”
“Standing near the garage.”
“What did he say?”
“He said Toby tripped.”
“Did Toby speak?”
“Not at first. He was barely awake. Dad told me not to make a scene.”
Daniel laughed once, without humor.
Celia winced.
“He told me you would blame me,” she said.
“I do blame you.”
“I know.”
“He was right.”
“I know.”
Daniel turned away. A television mounted in the corner played a weather forecast with the sound off. Colored bands moved across a map of Maryland. A woman in the waiting area rocked a sleeping toddler against her shoulder.
Celia wiped her nose with the back of her hand.
“I called nine-one-one from the car,” she said. “I didn’t know if he’d follow me. I kept driving until the dispatcher told me to pull into the fire station.”
“Did he follow?”
“I don’t think so.”
“You don’t think.”
“I was looking at Toby.”
Daniel faced her again.
“Did Victor say anything else?”
Celia hesitated.
There it was—the small withdrawal around her eyes, the pause before a lie.
“What did he say?”
“Nothing.”
“Celia.”
She looked toward Officer Parker, who had remained far enough away to give them the illusion of privacy.
“He asked if you still kept Nora’s things in the house.”
Daniel felt the old world open beneath his feet.
“What things?”
“He didn’t say.”
“And you didn’t ask.”
“I wanted to get Toby away from him.”
“Before that.”
“He said you’d taken something that belonged to him. He said people had been patient with you because of Nora, but patience wasn’t the same as forgiveness.”
Daniel stepped closer.
“Exact words?”
“Yes.”
“You’re sure?”
“I’m sure.”
“What did you tell him?”
“Nothing.”
“Did you tell him about the storage unit?”
Celia’s eyes flickered.
Daniel grabbed the back of the empty chair beside her. The plastic bent beneath his grip.
“You told him.”
“I didn’t know it mattered.”
“When?”
“Last month.”
“Why were you talking to him last month?”
“He came to the house.”
“Your house?”
“He needed money.”
Daniel released the chair.
Victor Sinclair had owned three auto dealerships, a freight company, half of an office park, and enough undeclared interests to employ accountants who never put their names on paper. The idea of him needing money was absurd.
Celia saw the answer in Daniel’s face.
“I know,” she said. “I know how it sounds.”
“No, you don’t.”
“He said one of his accounts had been frozen because of a tax dispute. He asked for ten thousand dollars.”
“Did you give it to him?”
“Three.”
Daniel stared at her.
“He’s our father,” she said, and the moment the words left her mouth, she seemed to hate herself for them.
“He stopped being that a long time ago.”
“Maybe for you.”
Daniel flinched.
Celia folded her arms. “You disappeared, Danny. You left me there with him.”
“I was nineteen.”
“I was fifteen.”
“I tried to take you.”
“You left a note under my pillow and expected me to climb out a window at two in the morning.”
“I waited until sunrise.”
“I was scared.”
“So was I.”
“You still went.”
Daniel looked down the corridor.
A nurse wheeled an elderly man past them. The man’s bare feet stuck out beneath a blanket, gray and narrow. His wife walked beside him carrying a grocery bag full of clothes.
Celia’s voice softened.
“You got away. I learned how to survive him by making him feel needed.”
“And now Toby is in a hospital bed.”
She closed her eyes.
Daniel regretted the words before their echo left the tile floor, but he did not take them back.
Officer Parker approached.
“Mr. Sinclair, we’ve contacted your father. He’s agreed to come in for an interview.”
Daniel turned.
“When?”
“He says tomorrow morning.”
“He gets to choose?”
“He hasn’t been charged.”
“My son identified him.”
“And we’re investigating. We’ll collect the medical evidence, interview your son with a child specialist, speak to the school, and document the scene.”
“Go to his house now.”
“We have officers there.”
“Search it.”
“We need legal authority.”
“There’s blood on his driveway.”
“If there’s visible evidence, the responding officers will preserve it.”
“Victor will wash it away.”
“The officers are already there.”
Daniel took out his phone.
Officer Parker watched him. “Who are you calling?”
“My lawyer.”
“Do you have one?”
“Not yet.”
May you like
Elias arrived in thirty-two minutes.
Daniel saw him through the glass doors of the emergency entrance. He wore a tan raincoat over a gray suit, though it had not rained all day. His hair, once black, had gone mostly silver at the temples. He walked with a slight stiffness in his left leg that had not been there seven years ago.
