Chapter 4: The Name He Never Said Out Loud
Matthew came back eight minutes later.
He sat down in the same chair.
He handed Luna back to Sarah without being asked.
"Is everything okay?" Sarah said.
"It will be."
"You don't sound sure."
He looked at her sideways.
"You're very perceptive for five."
"Mommy says I notice things." She paused.
"She says it's a gift and also sometimes a lot."
Matthew almost smiled.
It didn't quite finish, but it started.
A nurse appeared at the end of the corridor — not running, which was good, but walking with purpose, which meant something.
"Mr.
Sullivan?"
He was on his feet before she reached them.
"She's out of surgery," the nurse said.
"Dr.
Okafor will come speak with you shortly.
She's in recovery.
Her pressure is stabilizing."
Matthew let out a breath that seemed to come from somewhere much deeper than his lungs.
"Can I see her?"
"Not yet.
Give it another hour."
He nodded.
He sat back down.
Sarah had both hands pressed flat on her knees, very still, waiting.
"Is Mommy okay?" she asked.
"She's out of surgery.
That's a good sign."
"But is she okay?"
He looked at her directly.
He didn't look away.
"The doctors are taking care of her.
She's fighting.
And your mommy," he said, and his voice dropped just slightly, "is very good at fighting."
Sarah studied him.
"How do you know so much about her?"
The question sat between them.
Matthew looked at the cardboard box on Sarah's lap.
The golden-haired doll.
The cracked tea cups.
The bracelet without its R.
"We knew each other," he said carefully.
"A long time ago."
"Were you friends?"
A pause.
"Yes.
We were friends."
"Why aren't you friends anymore?"
He was quiet for a moment.
In the corridor behind them, a phone rang at the nurses' station.
Someone laughed briefly, then stopped.
"I made a mistake," Matthew said.
"And by the time I understood what I'd done, too much time had passed."
Sarah thought about this with the seriousness she gave to most things.
"Mommy says it's never too late to say sorry."
Matthew looked at her.
His expression was very hard to read — not because it was empty, but because it was too full, and he was working to keep it contained.
"Your mommy is right," he said.
His phone buzzed in his pocket.
He glanced at it, then put it face-down on his knee without answering.
"Who's Richard?" Sarah asked.
Matthew looked at her sharply.
"You heard that."
"You said his name when you were on the phone.
You sounded like you didn't want to talk to him."
"He's someone I work with."
"Does he know Mommy too?"
The pause this time was different.
Shorter, but heavier.
"Why do you ask that?"
Sarah shrugged in the way five-year-olds shrugged — total honesty disguised as casualness.
"Because when you came back from the phone call, you looked at me differently.
Like you were worried about something besides Mommy being sick."
Matthew Sullivan stared at this child for a long moment.
Then he picked up his phone and typed a single message.
Sarah couldn't see the screen.
But she saw his thumb press send, and she saw the way he held the phone after — not putting it away, just holding it, waiting.
Three minutes later it buzzed.
He read the message.
His face went completely still.
He stood up.
"Sarah, I need to speak to the doctor again.
Will you be all right here for two minutes?"
"I'm always all right," she said, in a tone that made it clear she had said those words many times before, to many adults who needed to leave.
Matthew walked to the nurses' station.
He spoke quietly to the nurse on duty, showed her something on his phone, and the nurse's expression shifted from professional to concerned.
Sarah watched all of it from her chair, holding her box, her gray sock touching the cold tile.
She didn't know what was happening.
But she knew it was about her mother.
And she knew it was something the tall man in the dark coat had not expected to find out today.
When he came back, he crouched down in front of her again.
"Sarah," he said.
"I need to ask you something important, and I need you to tell me the truth."
"I always tell the truth," she said.
"Mommy says lying makes things heavier."
"Did anyone follow you to the hospital today?
Was there anyone in the ambulance with you besides the paramedics?"
She shook her head.
"Was there anyone near your mother before the car h*t her?
Someone she was arguing with, or someone she was trying to get away from?"
Sarah's small face changed.
It was subtle — just a tightening around the eyes, a stillness in the mouth — but Matthew saw it immediately.
"Sarah."
"There was a man," she said quietly.
"On the corner.
Before the car came.
Mommy saw him and she grabbed my hand really hard and said we needed to walk faster."
"Did you see his face?"
"A little."
"Would you recognize him?"
She nodded slowly.
Matthew Sullivan stood up straight.
He looked down the corridor toward the recovery ward, then back at Sarah.
"I'm not going to leave you alone," he said.
"Not for a single minute.
Do you understand?"
Sarah looked up at him.
"Are we in danger?" she asked.
He didn't answer immediately.
May you like
And in that half-second of silence, Sarah got her answer.
She pulled Luna a little closer to her chest.
