Chapter 3: What Travis Knew
The principal cleared her throat.
"I'll give you a few minutes," she said.
She touched the teacher's arm and they both stepped out, pulling the door almost closed behind them.
Emma stirred against Travis's arm.
He shifted slightly, keeping her settled, and she went still again.
I sat down in the chair across from him.
"Tell me," I said.
He didn't look away.
"How much do you know about what Ryan does when he's not at work?"
"He works late.
He's always worked late."
"He's not always at work."
My throat tightened.
"What does that mean?"
Travis leaned forward, careful not to wake Emma.
His voice dropped low.
"Six months ago I was coming back from a late rehearsal.
Two in the morning.
I saw Ryan's car parked outside the Meridian on Fifth.
You know what that place is?"
I knew the name.
A bar.
A hotel above it.
"I thought it was a coincidence," Travis said.
"So I didn't say anything.
Then I saw it again two weeks later.
Same car.
Same spot.
Different night."
"That doesn't mean —"
"I took photos, Lauren."
The room went very quiet.
"I didn't want to," he said.
"I kept telling myself it wasn't my business.
But then Emma started walking with me, and I'd look at her every afternoon and think — if something is wrong in that house, and I stayed quiet, and it hurt her —" He stopped.
"I couldn't live with that."
"Show me."
He reached into the inside pocket of his jacket and pulled out his phone.
He turned it toward me.
Ryan's car.
The Meridian sign lit up behind it.
A timestamp in the corner: 1:47 a.m.
He swiped.
Another photo.
Ryan at the hotel entrance.
A woman beside him.
Her hand on his arm.
His head turned toward her, laughing at something she'd said.
I recognized the woman.
Her name was Diane.
She worked in Ryan's office.
I'd met her at the company Christmas party two years ago.
She'd shaken my hand and said, "Ryan talks about you all the time."
My vision blurred at the edges.
"There's more," Travis said quietly.
"How much more?"
He hesitated.
"The note I gave Emma — it wasn't only about the photos." He set the phone face-down on his knee.
"Three weeks ago, Ryan came to my door.
Late.
He'd been drinking.
He told me to stop walking Emma home.
Said I was making him look bad in the neighborhood."
"He came to your door?"
"He said if I didn't stop, he'd find a reason to get me removed from the pickup list.
Said he had friends at the school board." Travis's jaw tightened.
"I told him I wasn't going anywhere.
He left.
But the next morning, someone had scratched the side of my motorcycle."
I stared at him.
"I can't prove it was him," Travis said.
"But there's nobody else."
Emma made a small sound in her sleep.
I reached over and tucked her hair back from her face.
My hand was steady.
I didn't understand how.
"Why the note?" I asked.
"Why tell Emma to hand it to her teacher?"
"Because after Ryan came to my door, I got worried.
Not for me.
For you." He looked at me directly.
"If he found out I had those photos and decided to do something about it — I needed someone to make sure you saw them first."
I sat back in my chair.
Outside the door, I could hear the teacher and principal talking in low voices.
The hallway clock ticked.
Emma breathed softly against Travis's arm.
"Does anyone else know?" I asked.
"No."
"Not even your band?
Your friends?"
"No one."
I looked at the phone, still face-down on his knee.
"Send me those photos," I said.
He picked it up without hesitation and held it out.
"I already put them in a folder.
All twelve of them."
Twelve.
I took the phone.
My thumb hovered over the screen.
"Lauren." His voice was careful.
"Before you do anything — think about Emma.
Think about what you want the next step to look like.
Don't let him see it coming."
I looked up at him.
"Don't let him see it coming," I repeated.
"He already tried to scare me off once.
If he thinks you know —"
The door opened.
The principal stepped back in.
"I'm sorry to interrupt.
Mr.
May you like
Bennett just called the front desk." She paused.
"He's on his way here."
