Chapter 1 - The Call From Noah
A four-year-old boy crouched beside the sofa, crying as a baseball bat lay on the floor nearby.
“Daddy, please come home!”
Twenty minutes away, I stared at my phone while my son whispered what had happened.
Then I heard another man's voice behind him.
“Who are you talking to?”
The call went dead.
I didn't remember standing up.
One second I was sitting inside a glass conference room with twelve people staring at a budget projection.
The next, I was halfway to the door.
“What's wrong?” someone asked.
“My son.”
That was all I could say.
My hands were shaking.
I looked down at the phone again.
2:14 PM.
Two missed calls from Noah.
One answered call.
Thirty-one seconds.
Thirty-one seconds that would later become one of the most important pieces of evidence in the entire case.
But at that moment, evidence didn't matter.
Only Noah did.
I pushed through the conference-room door and nearly collided with my manager.
“Where are you going?”
“My son is in danger.”
He stepped aside.
I ran.
The elevator took forever.
Every second felt like someone was pulling Noah farther away from me.
When the doors opened, I ran toward the parking garage and called 911.
“My four-year-old son called me from home,” I said. “He says his mother's boyfriend hit him with a baseball bat.”
The dispatcher immediately became focused.
“Is the boyfriend still in the house?”
“I don't know.”
“Is your son alone?”
“I think so.”
“Where is the child's mother?”
“She isn't there.”
“What's your address?”
I gave it.
Then I said the words that made my own stomach turn.
“I heard the boyfriend's voice before the call ended.”
The dispatcher told me officers were being sent.
I was already dialing my brother.
Derek answered on the second ring.
“Hey.”
“Where are you?”
There was a pause.
“About fifteen minutes from your house. Why?”
“Noah called me.”
Derek's voice changed.
“What happened?”
“He says Travis hit him with a baseball bat.”
Silence.
Then Derek said, “I'm going there.”
“Police are coming.”
“I know.”
“Don't confront him.”
“I won't.”
“Derek, I'm serious.”
“So am I.”
His voice was calm.
Too calm.
Derek had always been that way.
When we were kids, I panicked.
Derek thought.
When our father died, I broke down.
Derek handled the paperwork.
When Noah was born, Derek had stood beside me in the hospital hallway and said, “Whatever happens, that kid is never going to wonder if his uncle showed up.”
He had kept that promise.
Always.
I heard his car start.
“Stay on the phone,” I said.
“I will.”
I pulled out of the garage.
Traffic immediately swallowed me.
Every light seemed red.
Every car seemed parked.
I hit the steering wheel once.
“Come on.”
Derek said nothing.
Then, fifteen seconds later, he spoke.
“I just passed the elementary school.”
“How far?”
“Ten minutes.”
“I'm at least twenty.”
“I'll get there.”
I wanted to believe him.
Then my phone vibrated.
A message from an unknown number.
I opened it.
There was no text.
Only a photograph.
It was Noah.
He was sitting on the living-room floor.
His face was wet with tears.
And behind him, barely visible near the kitchen doorway, stood Travis.
I stared at the picture.
Then I noticed something else.
Noah wasn't looking at the camera.
He was looking toward the hallway.
Like someone was standing there.
My phone rang.
Derek.
“I can see the house.”
“Can you see Noah?”
“No.”
“Go inside.”
“I see the front door.”
“Derek.”
He didn't answer.
A second later, I heard a car door slam through the phone.
Then his footsteps.
Fast.
He reached the porch.
“The door's open.”
My heart began pounding.
“Call the police again.”
“They're already coming.”
Derek moved closer.
Then he stopped.
“What?”
I heard him breathing.
“Derek?”
He whispered, “I can hear him.”
“Who?”
“Noah.”
A child's voice came faintly through the phone.
“Daddy?”
I closed my eyes.
“I'm here,” I whispered.
But Noah couldn't hear me.
Derek stepped through the doorway.
Then a man's voice came from somewhere inside.
“Get out of my house.”
Derek's voice became cold.
“Travis, step away from the boy.”
Silence.
Then Noah screamed.
“Uncle Derek!”
Something crashed.
May you like
Derek's breathing stopped.
And then I heard his footsteps running toward the sound...
