Chapter 1 - The Name He Was Afraid to Say
“Mom, you have to promise you won’t hate me.”
I crossed the hallway and took Toby’s face between my hands.
His skin was cold. There was a shallow scrape along his jaw, and his sweatshirt smelled of dust and something metallic.
“Where is Gavin?”
“At the hospital.”
Brenda made a sound I had never heard another person make.
Toby shook his head quickly.
“He went in the ambulance. He’s okay. He went with Noah.”
“Who is Noah?”
My son looked at the floor.
Then he said, “There’s a little girl, too.”
For a moment, none of the words connected.
Hospital.
Ambulance.
A little girl.
I wanted to shake the story out of him. I wanted to hold him until whatever had happened became impossible.
Instead, I reached for my phone.
“Which hospital?”
“County General.”
Brenda was already calling.
I guided Toby to the kitchen table. His legs seemed reluctant to support him.
“Is anybody still in danger?”
He nodded.
Then shook his head.
Then began crying with an exhaustion that looked much older than sixteen.
“I don’t know.”
I called emergency services while Brenda spoke to the hospital. I gave our address, explained what Toby had told me, and asked for help establishing whether anyone remained at the house he described.
The dispatcher asked him to repeat the location.
“Forty-eight Mercer Street.”
Brenda turned from her call.
“That’s my mother’s old rental.”
The house had been empty since her mother died the previous spring. Brenda and her brother were still untangling the estate.
Toby covered his face.
“We weren’t partying.”
Nobody had asked.
The fact that he thought we might mattered.
“We were helping them.”
“Who, sweetheart?”
“Noah and Lily. Lily’s seven.”
“Helping them do what?”
“Stay away from him.”
I pulled out the chair beside him.
“From whom?”
He shook so hard the table trembled.
“We didn’t know what else to do.”
Brenda lowered her phone.
Gavin was at County General. A nurse had confirmed he was safe and said she should come immediately.
The relief on Brenda’s face lasted only a second.
Then she looked at Toby.
“Why didn’t you call us?”
“Our phones were in the warehouse office during the shift. Mine died before we got it back. Gavin’s got broken yesterday.”
“Warehouse?” I asked.
Toby stared at me as though he had forgotten that part was also a secret.
“We’ve been working.”
“You’re sixteen.”
“I know.”
“Who hired you?”
His lips parted.
No answer came.
The dispatcher remained on my phone, asking questions in a steady voice. I answered what I could. An officer would meet us at the hospital, and responders were checking the Mercer Street property.
For the first time since the door opened, somebody besides our frightened children was carrying part of the night.
I grabbed my coat.
Toby rose too quickly and swayed.
I caught his arm.
“Did someone hurt you?”
He looked toward Brenda.
“Please don’t be mad at Gavin. I helped make the plan.”
“I’m not deciding consequences in this kitchen,” I said. “I’m getting you both somewhere safe.”
On the drive, Toby sat beside me while Brenda followed in her car.
The streets were almost empty.
I could hear every uneven breath he took.
“Noah got sick,” he said finally. “He kept saying it was just a headache. Then he wouldn’t wake up right.”
“What happened?”
“The heater. They think.”
“Who called the ambulance?”
“Gavin. He went to the neighbor because his phone was broken.”
“And you?”
“I carried Lily outside. Then I stayed with her until another ambulance came.”
“You should have gone with her.”
“I know.”
“Why didn’t you?”
He pressed his palms against his knees.
“Because I saw his truck.”
A light changed from red to green.
I did not move until the car behind me tapped its horn.
“Whose truck, Toby?”
“The man they were hiding from.”
“Did he speak to you?”
“He said if we told anyone, Noah would go to jail. He said he knew where we lived.”
I pulled into the hospital entrance.
Toby reached for my sleeve before I could open the door.
“Mom.”
I turned.
“He said you’d believe him.”
“Who?”
My son’s eyes filled again.
“The man who gave the speech at Dad’s memorial.”
For one second, I could hear that speech.
Courage.
Community.
Looking after our neighbors.
A polished voice beside a photograph of my husband in his firefighter’s uniform.
“Martin Vale?” I whispered.
Toby nodded.
May you like
Outside the windshield, the hospital doors slid open and closed.
Inside the car, every safe thing I thought I recognized rearranged itself.
