Chapter 5: What Daniel Had Already Set in Motion
Mason stood at the hallway window and watched his brother's car pull away from the curb.
"When was it filed?" he asked.
"Three days ago," Patricia Holt said.
"The petition cites documented concerns about the emotional stability of the primary caregiver — that's you, Mr.
Kingsley — and includes supporting evaluations and witness statements."
"Witness statements from whom?"
A pause.
"I'm not at liberty to share that at this stage.
I'm calling as a professional courtesy, because my client believed you would want time to—"
"Your client," Mason said, "was in my home four minutes ago.
He is not extending courtesies.
He is managing a timeline." He moved away from the window.
"Who signed the evaluations?"
Another pause.
Longer.
"Mr.
Kingsley, I'd strongly recommend you retain your own counsel before—"
"I'm asking you a direct question.
Who signed the evaluations describing my son as violent?"
Silence.
"Ms.
Holt."
"The evaluations were signed by a Dr.
Raymond Croft," she said finally.
"He is a licensed child psychologist."
"Has Dr.
Croft ever met my son?"
No answer.
"Has he ever been in this house?"
The line went quiet for just a moment too long.
"I'll be retaining my own attorney within the hour," Mason said.
"Do not contact me again through this number." He ended the call.
Clarissa was still in the hallway.
She had not moved toward the door.
She had not reached for her coat or her bag.
She was standing with her arms at her sides, watching him.
"How many people?" Mason asked.
"What?"
"How many people did Daniel bring into this?
The attorney.
The psychologist who signed an evaluation without ever meeting Ben.
Who else?"
Clarissa looked at the floor.
"There was a social worker," she said.
"She was supposed to conduct a home visit next week.
Daniel arranged it.
She was going to find things."
"Find things."
"He was going to put things in Ben's room.
A broken toy.
Some drawings." She stopped.
"Things that would look like a troubled child."
Mason sat down on the hallway bench.
He pressed both hands flat against his knees.
"Clarissa." His voice was very quiet.
"He was going to plant evidence against my nine-year-old son."
She didn't answer.
"And you knew."
"I knew," she said.
Ben's voice came from the top of the stairs.
"Dad."
Mason looked up.
Ben was standing at the top, still in his good clothes from the gala they had never reached.
Ava was behind him, one hand holding the back of his jacket.
"I heard," Ben said.
Mason stood up.
"How much?"
"All of it." Ben's voice was steady in the way children's voices get when they are working very hard not to cry.
"He was going to put things in my room.
To make you think I was—" He stopped.
"Was Uncle Daniel always like this?
Even before Mom died?"
Mason climbed the stairs.
He sat on the top step and Ben sat beside him, and Ava pressed herself into Mason's side without a word.
"I don't know," Mason said.
Because it was true.
And because Ben was nine, and nine was old enough to deserve the truth.
"What happens now?" Ben asked.
"Now I make some phone calls." Mason put his arm around both of them.
"And then nothing happens to either of you.
I promise you that."
Ben nodded.
He leaned his head against his father's shoulder.
Ava reached up and took Mason's hand.
In her other hand, she was still holding the severed ponytail and the two white ribbons.
Mason looked at them — those two small white ribbons — and something settled in him.
Not calm.
Something harder than calm.
He kissed the top of Ava's head and stood up.
"Lock the door," he told Ben.
"I'll knock three times when it's me."
He went back downstairs.
Clarissa was putting on her coat.
"Where are you going?" Mason asked.
She paused with one hand on the collar.
"You don't want me here."
"You're right," he said.
"But you're not leaving until you've written down every name.
Every person Daniel contacted.
Every document you signed.
Every conversation you remember." He set a notepad on the hallway table.
"All of it.
Tonight."
Clarissa looked at the notepad.
Then at Mason.
"And if I do?"
"Then I'll tell my attorney you cooperated.
That's the only offer you're going to get from me."
She took off her coat.
May you like
She sat down at the hallway table.
She picked up the pen.
