Chapter 3 - Caleb
Caleb had been in a car accident.
Not dramatic enough for television.
Serious enough to explain everything.
His rental car was struck on the passenger side at an intersection near Nashua around noon.
The other driver ran a red light.
Caleb suffered:
A concussion.
Three cracked ribs.
A broken left wrist.
A deep laceration near his scalp requiring stitches.
No spinal injury.
No brain bleed.
No surgery.
He had been confused for several hours and slept heavily after medication.
His phone was damaged in the crash.
The hospital found my number in an emergency-contact database after he became more coherent.
I left Sawyer with Jenna at four in the morning and drove north.
Not ideal.
Jenna was trusted.
Sawyer knew.
No Imogen.
I arrived before sunrise.
Caleb looked terrible.
He smiled.
“You look worse.”
I almost hit him.
Instead I cried.
Then I put the note on his blanket.
His smile disappeared.
“Where did you find that?”
“Inside Dino.”
He closed his eyes.
“Damn.”
“Explain.”
“I wrote it last night.”
“Why put it inside Sawyer’s toy?”
“I was repairing the seam.”
That was true.
Dino had been losing stuffing for weeks.
Caleb had sat at the kitchen table Wednesday night with a sewing kit.
Apparently.
“I heard Imogen talking to Sawyer after you went to bed.”
“What did she say?”
Caleb looked at me.
“She told him Mason was going to need his room soon.”
My stomach tightened.
“What else?”
“That big boys don’t need parents protecting their things.”
“Why didn’t you wake me?”
“I should have.”
“Yes.”
“I confronted her.”
“When?”
“After midnight.”
“What did she say?”
“That I misunderstood.”
“Did you believe her?”
“No.”
“Then why leave this morning?”
Caleb looked angry now.
“At myself?”
Good.
“I had the site inspection. I planned to call you from the car once I was away from her.”
“Why away from her?”
“She was outside my office twice while I was making calls this week.”
That was new.
“She was listening?”
“I don’t know.”
“Caleb.”
“I don’t know.”
Then:
“I wrote the note because I had this stupid feeling something was going to happen before I could explain.”
“You could have texted.”
“I did.”
“What?”
He asked for his laptop.
Hospital had bag.
The device survived.
He opened messages.
Draft.
Not sent.
To me:
Ros, please don’t leave Sawyer with Imogen today. I’ll explain on the drive. I want her back in the hotel by Friday.
Saved as draft.
Why not send?
He had been interrupted by a call from the acquisition team.
Then packed.
Then forgot.
Human.
Stupid.
Possible.
I held up the note.
“So the dinosaur was backup?”
“More like I wrote it while sewing, folded it, then Sawyer came downstairs and I stuffed it inside because I didn’t want Imogen seeing it on the table.”
That explained the hiding.
Not elegant.
Not a secret code.
A father making a rushed decision after midnight.
Then I asked:
“Did you agree Sawyer had to leave his room?”
Caleb stared.
“No.”
“Did you agree Mason could have it?”
“No.”
“Did you tell Imogen Sawyer should stay somewhere else?”
“No.”
“Anything close?”
He hesitated.
There.
“What?”
“She asked if Mason could have a room that looked permanent for the custody evaluation.”
I went still.
“What custody evaluation?”
Caleb’s face changed.
“You don’t know?”
No.
I did not.
May you like
And suddenly the boxes upstairs were about more than bedrooms.
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