Chapter 5

Come Down When You’re Ready

Matteo released none of the pressure on Derek’s arm.

“Yes,” he told Emma. “It’s me.”

She opened the closet door a little farther. Her pajamas were covered with cartoon unicorns. One knee was torn and reddened, as if she had crawled across something rough.

“Is he going to hurt Mommy again?”

“No.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure.”

Derek gave a bitter laugh. “You don’t even know this guy.”

Emma flinched back into the closet.

Matteo turned Derek’s bound wrists upward until the laugh became a groan.

“You have mistaken silence for permission all night,” Matteo said. “Do not make that mistake with me.”

He guided Derek into the hall and toward the stairs. Keeping him upstairs would force Emma to pass within arm’s reach of him. Matteo would not ask that of her.

“Emma, I’m taking him downstairs. Lock the bedroom door if it will still close. I’ll call when the police arrive.”

“I want my mom.”

“There’s broken glass downstairs.”

“I don’t care.”

The answer held a child’s terror and a daughter’s determination. Matteo recognized both.

“Then stay behind me,” he said. “You choose when to come.”

He moved Derek down one step at a time. Derek tried to plant his feet halfway, but Matteo tightened his grip and leaned close.

“The child is watching,” he whispered. “Give me a reason to show her what you are afraid of.”

Derek descended.

At the bottom, Matteo dragged him through the living room without letting Emma see Sarah’s injuries unobstructed. He opened the kitchen door, pushed Derek inside and sat him on the floor against the cabinets.

He looped a dish towel through the belt and around a cast-iron pipe beneath the sink.

“This is kidnapping,” Derek said.

“The front door is open. The police are coming. You’re welcome to explain it to them.”

“You think they’ll believe you?”

“No.” Matteo checked the knot. “They’ll believe the room.”

He photographed the knife where it lay in the upstairs hall before moving it no farther. Then he sent Vincent a short message.

Walsh contained. Child alive. Mother critical. Keep everyone back.

Vincent answered:

Police two minutes out.

Matteo returned to the living room.

Emma stood on the lowest stair, frozen.

She was smaller than she had looked in the closet. Sarah’s phone seemed enormous in her hands. Her eyes moved across the overturned furniture, the broken photographs and the blood beside her mother.

“Mommy?”

Matteo stepped into the path between her bare feet and the glass.

“Look at me, Emma.”

She did, but only after forcing her gaze away from Sarah.

“Put your feet exactly where I put mine.” He indicated a clear path. “Can you do that?”

She nodded.

He walked slowly. Emma followed his steps until they reached the carpet beside Sarah.

Then she dropped to her knees.

“Mommy, wake up. Please wake up.”

Sarah did not move.

Emma reached toward the head wound.

Matteo caught her wrist gently. She recoiled at once, and he released her.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “Don’t touch that part. Her neck might be hurt.”

“But there’s blood.”

“The towel is helping. Her heart is beating. I checked.”

Emma stared at him. “Really?”

“Put two fingers here.”

He showed her the pulse point at Sarah’s wrist, then moved back so Emma could choose. Her fingertips shook as she pressed them to her mother’s skin.

For a moment, she felt nothing.

Then her eyes widened.

“I feel it.”

“That’s her telling you she’s still here.”

Emma kept her fingers in place for three heartbeats, counting each one under her breath. Then she unlocked Sarah’s phone and opened the message thread.

“I typed one number wrong,” she said. “I was trying to text Mrs. Bell next door.”

“One number was enough.”

“Will the police know I didn’t make it up?”

Matteo crouched at a careful distance. “Don’t delete anything. Don’t change anything. When they arrive, you can show them exactly what you sent and when you sent it. You did the right thing.”

Emma looked down at the screen. “Derek says children make trouble when they tell family secrets.”

“Hurting someone is not a family secret. It is his choice. Telling the truth is yours.”

Emma bent over Sarah’s hand and began to cry without making a sound.

Matteo took off his coat and laid it over her shoulders. The charcoal wool nearly swallowed her.

“The ambulance will take her to the hospital,” he said. “A doctor I trust knows she’s coming.”

“Can I go with her?”

“We’ll ask the paramedics. If they say no, I’ll make sure you get there.”

Emma held Sarah’s hand tighter. “You promise?”

He had learned long ago not to make promises he could not enforce.

“Yes.”

From the kitchen, Derek shouted, “Sarah’s fine. She’s putting on a show like she always does.”

Emma’s entire body stiffened beneath the coat.

Matteo stood.

“Stay beside your mother.”

He closed the kitchen door behind him.

Derek had worked one wrist partly free. Matteo crouched, retied the belt and removed the temptation to test him by anchoring both ankles with a second towel.

“You’re enjoying this,” Derek accused.

“No.”

The answer unsettled him.

“Then what do you want?”

“The truth.”

“I told you. Sarah drank too much. She came at me.”

“The child said you were hitting her mother before Sarah fell.”

“The kid lies.”

“She texted before you knew she had the phone. Her messages follow the damage in that room. Your blood is not on the table. Sarah’s is.”

Derek looked toward the door. “Sarah’s been a mess since Daniel died. Bills everywhere. House falling apart. Kid acting up. I’m the one who helped them.”

“Help does not create ownership.”

“You don’t know what I put into this family.”

“And you don’t know the difference between a family and something you purchased.”

Derek leaned his head against the cabinet. “You think she’s innocent? She scratched my face. She hit me first.”

Thin red marks crossed his cheek. Defensive wounds, Matteo thought, made by a woman trying to stop him.

“Why did you follow Emma upstairs?”

“To get the phone back.”

“Why?”

“Because it wasn’t hers.”

“Wrong answer.”

“She was hysterical. She would have said anything.”

“Anything to whom?”

Derek looked away.

The first wash of blue light moved across the kitchen ceiling, then vanished. The sirens were close enough now to pulse through the walls.

Matteo placed his phone on the counter and activated the recorder without drawing attention to it.

In the living room, Emma spoke softly to her mother.

“You said we could get ice cream tomorrow,” she whispered. “I’ll get vanilla this time. I won’t ask for the big one. So you have to wake up, okay?”

Derek listened too. For one brief second, shame might have touched his face.

Then fear erased it.

“She saw Sarah fall,” he said. “She was going to call the police. I couldn’t let her do that.”