Chapter 5: The Man Who Texted
I stared at the message for a long time.
Then I typed back: *Who is this?*
Three dots appeared.
Disappeared.
Appeared again.
*Wrong number.
Sorry.*
I screenshot it immediately, then forwarded it to my email along with the number.
I called my brother-in-law, Derek, who worked in insurance and knew more about finding information than anyone I'd ever met.
He picked up on the second ring.
"I need a favor," I said.
"And I need you not to ask too many questions yet."
"Okay," he said.
I read him the number.
"Give me an hour," he said.
I went to Lily's room.
She and Mason were sitting on her bed, a picture book open between them that neither of them was reading.
Mason looked up when I came in.
Lily scrambled to the edge of the mattress and reached for me.
I sat down and pulled her into my lap.
"Are you hungry?" I said.
She nodded.
"Mason?"
He shrugged the way nine-year-olds do when they're trying not to show how much something hurts.
"A little."
I made them both sandwiches in the kitchen while Vanessa stayed behind the closed bedroom door.
I could hear her voice through it, low and continuous.
On the phone with her lawyer, or with him, or with someone.
I put the plates in front of the kids and sat across from them.
"Mason," I said.
He looked up.
"How long have you known about the man she talks to?"
He set his sandwich down.
"Since Christmas," he said.
"She thought I was asleep."
"Did you ever hear his name?"
He was quiet for a moment.
Deciding something.
"She called him Gary," he said.
"Once.
When she was really upset."
Lily was eating her sandwich in careful, deliberate bites, watching me over the crust.
"You're not in trouble," I told Mason.
"Either of you.
None of this is your fault."
He nodded, but the way he nodded told me he'd been carrying the weight of it anyway.
Nine years old, saving recordings on a tablet, waiting for a day when someone would finally come home early enough to listen.
Derek called back forty-seven minutes later.
"The number is registered to a Gary Fenton," he said.
"Forty-one, lives about twelve minutes from you.
Here's the part you need to know — he's a paralegal."
I set my coffee cup down.
"What kind of law?" I said.
"Family law," Derek said.
"Specifically, he works for a firm that handles custody modifications."
The sandwich I'd made for myself sat untouched on the counter.
"She was filing for custody of Lily," I said.
It wasn't a question.
"I don't know that for certain," Derek said.
"But that's what it looks like."
May you like
I thanked him and hung up.
From behind the bedroom door, Vanessa's voice had gone quiet.
