Chapter 4: The Woman I Didn't Know
The two officers came through the side gate with their hands ready.
"Ma'am, are you Sarah Calloway?"
"Yes."
"Is everyone all right?"
"I don't know," I said.
And I meant it.
They moved toward Melissa immediately.
She didn't resist.
She held her wrists out before they even asked, and that single gesture — practiced, unhurried — told me everything I hadn't understood yet.
"I need to speak with your supervising officer," she said to the younger one.
"Not you.
Your supervisor.
Tell him the name Carver."
The officer looked at his partner.
"Ma'am, we're going to need you to come with us."
"I know," Melissa said.
"I've been waiting for this part."
They walked her through the gate.
She didn't look back at me.
She didn't look back at the playhouse.
She walked like someone who had already rehearsed this moment and was simply moving through it now.
I stood there until the gate closed.
Then Ethan's hand found mine from behind.
"Mom.
Is Melissa in trouble?"
I crouched down to his level.
His face was very serious, the way seven-year-olds get when they know something is wrong but can't measure how wrong.
"I don't know yet, sweetheart.
But you're safe.
Okay?
You're safe."
He nodded slowly.
Then: "She said if I told you about the phone, the bad people would come."
My throat tightened.
"What bad people?"
"She didn't say.
She just said they were watching and I had to be very careful." He looked at his shoes.
"I didn't tell you.
I kept the promise.
But Marcus saw me looking at the playhouse one time and he asked me what was up there and I didn't tell him either but I think he guessed."
Marcus.
The bus driver.
Who had said four words and then driven away because he couldn't say more in front of the other children.
I pulled Ethan into my arms and held him there in the middle of the yard.
Inside the house, my phone was ringing.
I didn't move for a moment.
I just held my son and listened to the sirens fade down the street.
Then I went inside and picked up the phone.
Unknown number.
Local area code.
"Ms.
Calloway." A man's voice.
Measured, professional.
"My name is Agent Daniel Reeves.
I'm with the FBI field office.
I understand you've had some activity at your home this afternoon."
I sat down at the kitchen table.
"Who are you?"
"I'm the agent assigned to the case your nanny was working.
I know this is a great deal to absorb.
I'd like to come to your home this evening and explain what's been happening.
With your permission."
"My nanny was working a case," I repeated.
"Yes ma'am."
"For the FBI."
"Yes ma'am."
I looked at Ethan, who had followed me inside and was now standing in the kitchen doorway watching me with those serious eyes.
"Was my son ever in real danger?" I asked.
The pause before Agent Reeves answered was three seconds long.
I counted them.
"That's one of the things I'd like to discuss in person," he said.
Three seconds.
That was not a no.
May you like
"Come tonight," I said.
"Come now if you can."
