Chapter 4
I had met Travis once.
Only once.
It was early in my relationship with Rachel.
He showed up at her apartment without warning.
He was loud, restless, and angry about money.
Rachel pulled me aside and told me he had struggled with gambling and pills.
She said he stole from her.
She said she had finally cut him off.
That night, Travis asked me what I did for a living.
Where I lived.
Whether the house was mine.
At the time, I thought he was making conversation.
Now I remembered the way Rachel snapped at him.
“Enough, Travis.”
I remembered him smiling.
“What? I’m just getting to know the boyfriend.”
I called Detective Reed immediately.
“You know T?”
“I think so.”
I gave him Travis’s full name.
Travis Mason.
Thirty-eight.
Last address I knew was outside Murfreesboro.
Reed didn’t promise anything.
He simply said they would check.
At Megan’s house, we made the children a bed in the guest room.
Emma fell asleep quickly.
Noah didn’t.
I sat beside him.
“You okay?”
He stared at the ceiling.
“What if Rachel gets out?”
My chest tightened.
“The police are handling it.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
He sounded older than seven.
I hated that.
I moved closer.
“She will not be allowed near you if I can stop it.”
“What if she says sorry?”
I looked at him.
“Sorry doesn’t erase what she did.”
“She said grown-ups get forgiven.”
“They can.”
“So you forgive her?”
I thought carefully.
“Forgiveness and trust are different.”
He waited.
“You can decide someday what forgiveness means to you. But nobody gets to hurt you and demand access to you because they apologized.”
He seemed to consider that.
Then he whispered, “She cried after hurting Emma once.”
My heart sank.
“What happened?”
“She said Emma made her lose control.”
I closed my eyes.
Classic.
Even her apologies made the child responsible.
“What did you tell Emma?”
“That it wasn’t her fault.”
I pulled Noah against me.
“You were right.”
He rested his head on my chest.
After a minute, he said, “I wanted to call you.”
“I know.”
“She took my phone.”
“You did everything you could.”
“No.”
His voice cracked.
“I should’ve stopped her.”
“You are seven.”
“But I’m Emma’s big brother.”
“You are her brother. Not her parent.”
He looked at me.
“That’s my job.”
I said it firmly.
“My job.”
Something in his face softened.
For weeks, maybe months, he had believed he was responsible for keeping a toddler safe from an adult.
That burden belonged to me now.
Where it should have been all along.
At 1:17 in the morning, Reed called.
Travis had been located.
He was staying in a motel off I-24.
Police found Rachel’s name on the room registration as the person who paid for it.
“When?” I asked.
“Last month.”
My throat tightened.
“Did you arrest him?”
“Not yet.”
“Why?”
“We’re investigating.”
“Is he there?”
“He left before officers arrived.”
“So he knows?”
“Possibly.”
I walked into Megan’s kitchen and shut the door.
“Reed, tell me what’s going on.”
He was silent for a moment.
Then he said, “We recovered a laptop from the room with the hotel’s cooperation after establishing the proper legal basis.”
“And?”
“I can’t give you every detail.”
“Give me something.”
“There are photographs of your residence.”
I stared at the dark window above Megan’s sink.
“More photos?”
“Yes.”
“What kind?”
“Exterior. Vehicles. Your usual arrival time.”
My stomach turned.
“And the kids?”
Another pause.
“Yes.”
I gripped the counter.
“What pictures?”
“School drop-off. A playground. Nothing appears physically harmful in the images themselves.”
“Why was he taking pictures of my children?”
“We’re working on that.”
“What else?”
“Financial research.”
“About me?”
“Yes.”
I laughed once.
A broken sound.
“So this isn’t just abuse.”
“We don’t know the full scope yet.”
“Stop saying that.”
“Daniel.”
“They have photos of my children and information about my insurance. Rachel has their birth certificates in a hidden lockbox. Somebody wrote December is still the date. What am I supposed to think?”
“I understand.”
“No, you don’t.”
Then I regretted it.
Of course he understood the implications.
He was just refusing to tell me something before he could prove it.
I pressed my hand to my forehead.
“Sorry.”
“It’s fine.”
“Is Travis dangerous?”
“He has prior arrests.”
“For what?”
“Assault. Fraud. Drug possession.”
I looked toward the guest room.
“Should I move again?”
“We have patrols near your sister’s home. Don’t go anywhere alone with the children for now.”
That was enough to make sleep impossible.
At six in the morning, I was still awake when Megan came downstairs.
She poured coffee.
“You haven’t slept.”
“No.”
“Any news?”
I told her.
She stared into her mug.
“Rachel paid for Travis’s motel.”
“Yes.”
“She told us she hated him.”
“Yes.”
Megan’s jaw tightened.
“You know what I keep thinking about?”
“What?”
“Christmas.”
I frowned.
“What about it?”
“Last Christmas. Rachel asked Mom’s attorney how probate worked if something happened to you before the property transferred.”
I stared at her.
“What?”
“You weren’t in the room.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because it didn’t seem sinister. We were talking about Mom’s estate. Rachel asked a legal question.”
“What exactly did she say?”
Megan thought.
“She said, ‘If Daniel dies before the land issue is settled, does his share still go through?’”
My skin prickled.
“What did the attorney say?”
“That your share would pass according to your estate documents.”
“And then?”
“She asked whether a spouse would control it for minor children.”
I stood so quickly my chair scraped the floor.
“Megan.”
“I know.”
“You never thought that was strange?”
“She was your wife.”
“Not then.”
Megan froze.
She realized it.
Last Christmas had been two months before our wedding.
Rachel had been planning.
Or at least asking.
Maybe before she ever said vows.
I called Reed again.
He documented Megan’s recollection.
Then CPS arrived at nine.
A caseworker named Lena Ortiz interviewed me first.
She was warm with the children but direct with me.
“Your son reports the abuse escalated about four months ago.”
“That’s when Rachel stopped working.”
“Did you notice changes in Noah?”
I thought.
“He became quieter.”
“Eating habits?”
My stomach twisted.
“He started taking snacks upstairs.”
“Did you address it?”
“I told him not to leave food in his room because of ants.”
The shame was immediate.
He had been hiding food.
I had scolded him.
“Anything else?”
“He started asking to come to work with me on Saturdays.”
“Did you let him?”
“Sometimes.”
“Did you ask why?”
“He said he was bored.”
“Anything with Emma?”
“She became clingier.”
“With Rachel?”
“No. With me.”
Lena wrote notes.
Every answer felt like another missed warning.
She must have seen it on my face.
“Mr. Carter, hindsight makes patterns look obvious.”
“They were my kids.”
“Yes.”
“And I missed it.”
“You’re seeing it now.”
“Because I came home early.”
My voice broke.
“If that meeting hadn’t been canceled—”
I couldn’t finish.
Lena waited.
Finally, I whispered, “How long would it have gone on?”
She didn’t give me false comfort.
“I don’t know.”
That honesty hurt, but I respected it.
Noah was interviewed with a child specialist.
I was not allowed in the room.
That was one of the hardest hours of my life.
Emma’s evaluation was shorter because of her age.
A pediatric specialist documented the redness on her cheek and a fading bruise near her upper arm.
I had seen that bruise two days earlier.
Rachel told me Emma hit the coffee table.
Emma had nodded when I asked.
Now I wondered what kind of question I had asked.
“Did you hit the table?”
Instead of, “How did you get hurt?”
Had I accidentally given her the answer?
At noon, Detective Reed arrived at Megan’s house.
He had dark circles under his eyes.
He asked to speak privately.
My stomach tightened.
“What happened?”
“We found Travis’s vehicle.”
“Where?”
“Abandoned behind a shopping center.”
“Anything inside?”
“A burner phone.”
He set a printed photograph on the table.
It showed a message exchange.
The names were redacted, but I could read the text.
One message from Rachel’s suspected device said:
He trusts me completely.
Another:
Kids are becoming a problem.
The response:
Then control them.
My hands trembled.
I looked at Reed.
He flipped the page.
A later message.
R: Boy watches everything.
T: Scare him.
R: Already did.
T: December. Don’t lose focus.
I shoved the papers away.
“What is December?”
“We’re trying to establish that.”
“You know what I think.”
“Yes.”
“You think it too.”
“I think we need evidence.”
I stood and paced.
Then Reed said, “There’s something else.”
Of course there was.
“What?”
“The burner phone received a call last night.”
“From Rachel?”
“No.”
“Who?”
“We don’t know yet.”
“Why does that matter?”
“Because the caller asked one question.”
I stared at him.
“What question?”
Reed looked toward the room where my children were playing.
May you like
Then back at me.
“He asked whether you were still alive.”
