Chapter 8 - WHAT NOAH WAS AFRAID OFNoah woke screaming at two in the morning.
Michael found him standing inside the crib with both arms raised.
“Door,” the toddler cried. “Door shut.”
Michael lifted him.
“The door is open.”
He turned on the hallway light and showed Noah the nursery entrance.
The silver exterior latch had been removed.
“No lock.”
Noah touched the empty screw holes.
Then he looked at Michael.
“Mikey?”
“Daniel is sleeping.”
Noah began twisting in his father’s arms.
“Mikey come.”
Michael carried him across the hall.
Daniel was already awake.
He lifted the blanket.
Noah crawled beside him and held tightly to his sleeve.
Michael sat on the floor near the bed.
“I should have known,” he whispered.
Daniel looked at him.
“Margaret said you knew.”
Michael’s head rose.
“Knew what?”
“That Noah cried. That I was bad. She said you told her to fix us.”
“I never said that.”
“She showed me messages.”
“What messages?”
Daniel climbed out of bed and went to his desk.
From behind a drawer, he removed three printed pages.
The first appeared to show an email from Michael.
Daniel needs strict consequences. Do whatever is necessary.
The second said:
If Noah continues crying, isolate him until he learns.
Michael examined the address.
The display name was his.
The actual email account differed by one letter.
The messages were fake.
“She printed these for you?”
“When I said I would tell you.”
Michael’s guilt transformed into anger.
Margaret had not merely frightened the boys.
She used their father’s identity to make them feel abandoned.
“Why did you hide them?”
“I thought if you came home, I could ask.”
Michael pulled Daniel close.
“I never gave her permission to hurt either of you.”
“Even when I’m bad?”
“You are allowed to make mistakes. No mistake gives an adult permission to frighten or hit you.”
Daniel looked toward Noah.
“Margaret said Noah cried because I spoiled him.”
“Noah comes to you because he trusts you.”
For the first time that night, Daniel’s shoulders relaxed.
The baby monitor on the nursery shelf suddenly produced static.
Michael turned.
It was disconnected.
Yet a faint voice emerged from its speaker.
“Michael?”
He crossed the room.
“Who is this?”
The voice was weak and distorted.
“Michael, please answer.”
He recognized it.
“Mom?”
Daniel sat upright.
“Grandma?”
Eleanor’s voice broke through the static again.
“Margaret took my telephone. I found an old monitor in this room.”
Michael gripped the device.
“Where are you?”
“I don’t know the address.”
“Are you safe?”
A pause followed.
“No.”
Daniel climbed from the bed.
“Grandma, it’s me!”
Eleanor began to cry.
“My darling boy.”
“Margaret said you forgot us.”
“I could never forget you.”
The transmission weakened.
Michael asked for details.
Eleanor described a private house with white shutters, a tall metal fence and airplanes passing overhead.
She believed she was somewhere near Dallas Love Field.
Before she could say more, a door opened on her end.
A woman spoke sharply.
“Who are you talking to?”
The connection ended.
Michael stared at the silent monitor.
The device had paired automatically with an older Carter-family monitor Eleanor once used at the mansion.
Someone had taken that matching unit to the place where she was being held.
Michael called the police.
Then Daniel pointed toward the monitor.
A small red light was still blinking.
May you like
The connection had ended.
But the device had saved the last twenty-four hours of audio.
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