Chapter 4 - THE SECOND DRIVE
Police brought Lena into the hospital through a side entrance.
She looked nothing like the woman I remembered from our marriage.
Her hair was tangled.
Her mascara had run down both cheeks.
She carried a brown leather purse against her chest with both arms as if somebody might rip it away.
The first thing she said was, “Where’s Noah?”
I blocked the doorway.
“He’s getting a cast.”
“I need to see him.”
“No.”
Her face collapsed.
“Ryan.”
“You left him there.”
“I didn’t know Travis came back!”
“You brought Travis into his life.”
“I know.”
“You told me I was overreacting when I asked why Noah didn’t want to sleep at your place.”
“I know.”
“You told Derek to stop interrogating your boyfriend.”
“I know!”
The last word broke into a sob.
Everyone in the corridor turned.
I wanted to keep going.
I wanted to empty months of anger into that hallway.
Then Detective Monroe stepped between us.
“Not here.”
Lena wiped her face.
“I deserve it.”
“This isn’t about what you deserve,” Monroe said. “It’s about Noah.”
That stopped both of us.
We moved into an empty consultation room.
Lena placed her purse on the table.
Monroe put on gloves.
“Show me.”
Lena pulled out a small silver USB drive.
It looked almost identical to mine.
“How did you get this?”
“I found it taped beneath a drawer in Travis’s apartment.”
“What made you search his apartment?”
“Because I found photographs first.”
She unlocked her phone and handed it to Monroe.
There were pictures of me leaving work.
Pictures of Derek outside his gym.
Pictures of Noah at preschool.
Pictures of Lena’s car.
One photograph had been taken through the fence behind my house.
I felt sick.
“How long?”
“I don’t know.”
Monroe asked, “Did Travis know you found these?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Then why switch the drives?”
Lena looked at me.
“Because I remembered Ryan telling me his company was investigating missing money.”
I had mentioned it casually weeks ago.
Nothing confidential.
Just the kind of complaint people make after a long day.
Auditors.
Contracts.
Meetings.
Lena continued.
“Travis started asking weird questions about Ryan’s job. Where his office was. Whether he brought work home. Whether he used a company laptop.”
Derek leaned against the wall.
“And you didn’t think that was strange?”
“I did.”
“When?”
“Recently.”
“That’s convenient.”
“Derek.”
“No, Ryan.”
He pointed toward Noah’s room outside.
“A four-year-old has a broken arm because everyone kept giving this guy the benefit of the doubt.”
Lena closed her eyes.
She didn’t defend herself.
That quieted Derek more effectively than any argument could have.
Monroe placed the USB into an evidence bag.
“We’ll have digital forensics examine it.”
Lena nodded.
“There’s something else.”
Of course there was.
“There’s always something else,” Derek muttered.
Lena pulled a folded sheet of paper from her purse.
“I found this with the drive.”
Monroe unfolded it.
Several names.
Dollar amounts.
Dates.
One name made me stop breathing.
Martin Vale.
Vice President of Operations at Northbridge.
My boss’s boss.
A man who had shaken my hand at company Christmas parties.
A man who had personally told our department that the missing money was probably accounting error.
Beside his name was a payment.
$180,000.
Then another.
$240,000.
Then another.
Derek looked at me.
“You know him.”
“Yeah.”
Monroe photographed the page.
“Do not contact anyone at your company yet.”
“But—”
“If these records are genuine, we don’t know who is involved.”
My phone suddenly vibrated.
Unknown number.
I ignored it.
It rang again.
Monroe looked at me.
“Answer.”
I did.
“Hello?”
A man spoke.
Not Travis.
“Mr. Cole?”
“Yes.”
“You have something that doesn’t belong to you.”
The room became completely still.
I put the call on speaker.
“Who is this?”
“That doesn’t matter.”
Monroe silently motioned for another detective to begin tracing.
The caller continued.
“Your family has already had a difficult day.”
My hand tightened around the phone.
“If you threaten my son—”
“I’m not threatening anyone.”
“You just did.”
“I’m telling you this can end.”
Derek moved toward the phone as if he could reach through it.
Monroe held up a hand.
“What do you want?” I asked.
“The silver drive.”
Lena went pale.
The caller knew.
That meant Travis had already discovered she had taken it.
“Where’s Travis?” I asked.
A pause.
Then a quiet laugh.
“Travis made mistakes.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means you shouldn’t make another.”
The call ended.
Monroe immediately started issuing instructions.
Trace.
Security.
Hospital lockdown.
Two officers were assigned to Noah’s floor.
Another stayed with Lena.
I looked through the window toward my son’s room.
He was sitting on the bed while a nurse drew a dinosaur on his new blue cast.
Four years old.
Smiling because somebody had drawn a dinosaur.
The contrast was almost unbearable.
Monroe touched my shoulder.
“Mr. Cole.”
I turned.
“We need to move your son somewhere secure after discharge.”
“My house?”
“No.”
“Derek’s?”
“No.”
“Then where?”
“We’ll arrange temporary accommodations.”
Derek shook his head.
“I know a place.”
Everyone looked at him.
“Our parents’ old cabin.”
I stared at him.
“You mean Pine Ridge?”
“Private road. Nearest neighbor half a mile away. Cameras. New locks.”
Monroe frowned.
“Remote locations can be difficult to protect.”
“It also has one road in and out.”
“That can work both ways.”
She was right.
Ultimately, police arranged a protected hotel instead.
By evening, Noah was discharged.
His arm was in a bright blue cast.
He insisted that Derek sign it first.
My brother wrote:
UNCLE D WAS HERE.
Noah smiled.
Then held the marker toward me.
“You too.”
I wrote:
DAD ALWAYS COMES.
My throat tightened as I capped the marker.
Lena stood several feet away.
Noah finally looked at her.
For five full seconds, neither moved.
Then he asked, “Mom, why did you leave?”
Lena’s face crumpled.
“I thought you were safe.”
“But I wasn’t.”
“No.”
She knelt.
“No, baby. You weren’t.”
He studied her.
Children have a terrifying ability to ask the question adults spend years avoiding.
“Are you going to pick Travis again?”
Lena covered her mouth.
I looked away.
“No,” she finally whispered. “Never again.”
Noah nodded as though filing the answer somewhere important.
Then he reached for my hand.
We began walking toward the elevators.
That should have been the end of the worst day of our lives.
It wasn’t.
When the elevator doors opened in the parking garage, Detective Monroe stepped in front of us.
“Back up.”
I saw it a second later.
A black SUV sat across the garage.
Engine running.
Headlights off.
The driver’s window lowered.
Derek pushed Noah and Lena behind a concrete pillar.
Monroe reached for her weapon.
The SUV accelerated.
Not toward the exit.
Toward us.
“MOVE!”
We ran.
The engine roared through the garage.
Tires screamed.
I scooped Noah up with one arm and sprinted behind a parked pickup while Derek dragged Lena in the opposite direction.
The SUV clipped a metal cart and sent it spinning.
Police shouted.
Then came the crack of a collision.
The driver had tried to turn too hard.
The SUV slammed into a concrete support.
Airbags exploded inside.
Officers surrounded it.
For a moment, nobody moved.
Then Monroe approached the driver’s side.
She pulled open the door.
The man behind the wheel wasn’t Travis.
I had never seen him before.
But Lena had.
I knew because she whispered his name.
“Calvin.”
I looked at her.
“Who is Calvin?”
May you like
She stared at the crashed SUV.
“Travis’s brother.”
