Chapter 5: What Patricia Knew
I called the number from the parking garage, engine running, children in the back seat watching a movie on the tablet.
Patricia picked up on the second ring.
"I wasn't sure you'd call," she said.
"I almost didn't." I kept my voice even.
"Tell me what you know."
A long pause.
"He booked flights three days ago.
Saturday morning, early.
He told me he was taking the children to see his cousin in Phoenix.
He said it was just a short trip." Another pause.
"He asked me not to mention it to you."
"And you agreed."
"I — yes.
At the time I thought —" Her voice broke slightly.
"I thought it was just Grant being Grant.
I didn't understand what was happening until last night.
Until I saw your face at that table and realized you weren't surprised.
You were waiting."
Owen laughed at something on the tablet.
I watched him in the rearview mirror.
"Patricia," I said carefully, "are you willing to put what you just told me in writing?"
Silence.
"I know what I'm asking," I said.
"I know he's your son."
"He's my son," she said.
"But those are my grandchildren." Her voice steadied.
"Yes.
I'll put it in writing."
I called Natalie before I had even left the garage.
She had an emergency custody motion filed by two o'clock.
It included Patricia's written statement, the flight booking confirmation — which Natalie's paralegal pulled from a shared family travel account Grant had forgotten I still had access to — and a formal request for a temporary travel restriction on both children pending the divorce proceedings.
Grant called at three-fifteen.
I answered this time.
"You went to my mother." His voice was quiet in the way that used to make me careful.
"You actually went to my mother."
"She came to me."
"She doesn't understand what she's doing."
"She understands exactly what she's doing," I said.
"She's protecting her grandchildren."
"You think this is protecting them?
Dragging them through a court filing?"
"I think booking flights to take them out of state without telling me is what started this."
A silence.
Then: "I was going to tell you."
"When, Grant?
At the airport?"
"You're making a mistake," he said.
"You don't have the resources to fight me on this.
You don't have income.
You don't have —"
"I have eleven months of documentation," I said.
"I have a forensic accountant's report.
I have your mother's statement.
And I have a family law attorney who has been preparing this case since before Tessa ever set foot in our house." I let that sit for a moment.
"You built a trap for me last night.
You just didn't know I'd already seen the blueprints."
The line was quiet for so long I thought he'd ended the call.
"What do you want?" he finally said.
"I want what's fair.
I want what's mine.
And I want my children safe." I kept my voice level.
"Your attorney knows how to reach Natalie."
I ended the call.
My hands were shaking.
Not from fear — I recognized the difference now.
It was something closer to release, the way a held breath finally leaves the body.
My phone buzzed again.
Natalie.
*Judge granted the travel restriction.
Temporary order effective immediately.
He cannot take the children anywhere without written consent.*
I read it twice.
Then I put the phone in my bag and walked back to the car where Owen and Lily were waiting.
"Can we get lunch?" Owen asked.
"Yes," I said.
"Anywhere you want."
May you like
What I didn't know yet was that Grant had already made one more move — one he had set in motion before my call, before the custody filing, before any of it.
And it was aimed directly at the one person who had helped me most.
