Chapter 4: What My Brother Said
Marcus arrived forty minutes later.
He came through the front door, looked at Lauren standing in the hallway, looked at me, and said nothing.
He'd always been good at reading a room.
I took him to the garage.
It was cold.
Neither of us mentioned it.
I told him everything.
The bell.
Uncle Ray.
The phone.
The messages.
The thread.
All of it.
He listened without interrupting, which was not something Marcus did naturally.
When I finished, he sat on the edge of my workbench and was quiet for a moment.
"Fourteen months," he said.
"At least.
That's as far back as the messages went."
"And Danny knows him."
"Danny loves him." The words cost something to say out loud.
"He talks about Uncle Ray the way he talks about you.
Like he's family."
Marcus looked at the floor.
"Does he know Ray's last name?"
"Callahan.
Ray Callahan."
"You know anything else about him?"
"Not yet."
Marcus nodded slowly.
"You still have the phone?"
I pulled it from my pocket and held it out.
He didn't take it.
"That's evidence," he said.
"Don't let it out of your hands.
Don't scroll through it any more than you already have.
And don't let her know everything you've read."
"Why not?"
"Because right now you know more than she thinks you know.
That matters." He looked up at me.
"You need to talk to someone.
A lawyer.
Today if you can."
"It's Christmas."
"I know what day it is." He stood up.
"My friend Tom handles family law.
I'll call him.
He owes me." He paused.
"What do you want to do about today?
About Danny?"
I leaned against the wall.
The cold was working through my jacket now.
"I don't want to blow up his Christmas," I said.
"He doesn't know anything is wrong."
"He will if you and Lauren are in the same room."
"I know."
"So one of you needs to leave."
I didn't say anything.
"It's not going to be you," Marcus said.
It wasn't a question.
We went back inside.
Lauren was in the kitchen.
She'd made coffee — for both of us, two mugs on the counter — and the gesture landed wrong, like she was trying to paper over a collapsed wall with a single sheet.
Marcus looked at her.
"Lauren.
I think you should go stay with your mother for a few days."
She stiffened.
"This is my house."
"I know it is.
I'm asking you to give him some space."
"You don't get to ask me anything, Marcus.
This is between me and my husband."
"Lauren." My voice was quiet.
She turned to look at me.
"Go.
Please.
Take what you need for a few days.
I'll call you when I'm ready to talk."
Something moved across her face.
Not guilt — I'd seen guilt on her already and it looked different.
This was something closer to calculation.
"And Danny?" she asked.
"Danny stays with me."
Her jaw tightened.
"You can't just—"
"I'm not doing this in front of him.
Pack a bag.
I'll tell him you're visiting Grandma."
A long silence.
She looked at Marcus, then back at me.
Then she set her coffee mug down on the counter, very carefully, and walked to the bedroom.
Marcus and I stood in the kitchen and didn't speak.
Twenty minutes later she came out with a bag.
She stopped at the living room doorway and said goodbye to Danny.
He hugged her without looking up from the bike.
She held on longer than he did.
She passed me in the hallway without stopping.
The front door closed.
Danny's voice came from the living room.
"Is Mom going to Grandma's?"
"Yeah, buddy."
"Can we go outside now?"
I looked at Marcus.
He gave me a small nod.
"Yeah," I said.
"Let's go outside."
I spent the next hour watching my son ride a red bike up and down the driveway.
He fell twice and got back up both times without asking for help.
Marcus stood beside me with his hands in his pockets.
At some point he said, quietly, "Tom can see you tomorrow morning."
"Okay," I said.
Danny rang the bell at the end of the driveway and turned around, grinning at us.
May you like
I raised my hand and waved back.
It was the hardest thing I did all day.
