Chapter 7
Two months have passed since Caleb was taken. I spent a few nights here and there in a jail cell for creating uproar in the police department. Ella was with me every day now. She’s practically moved in. Some nights we fell asleep in Caleb’s room and other nights we were on the couch.
Mrs. Clint had been put in the hospital on suicide watch after trying and failing three times to kill herself. Mr. Clint put me on paid leave from work until Caleb was found. William wasn’t around at all. He had called to see if there was any news two weeks ago, but that was the only thing we heard.
Ella and I were out shopping for groceries when my phone rang. I took a breath and pulled out my phone, knowing in the pit of my stomach that one of these calls could be the police telling me the worst news of my life. I answered. Detective Marshal’s voice lacked emotion and my heart jumped into my throat. I asked, taking Ella’s hand in my own to get her to stop walking.
A click sounded through the receiver and I quickly relayed the message to Ella.
Nothing was heard for the rest of the day. No phones going off. No news about my boy. Ella was curled up, asleep against my chest. The clock on the television showed two-thirty in the morning. My eyes burned from lack of sleep like hot coals. Just as I started to give in to the sleep my body was desperately crying for, my phone rang. Ella squirmed in my arms, but remained asleep.
I cleared my throat to make my voice more clear.
Detective Marshal’s voice jerked my eyes open.
he paused. My heart beat unevenly in my chest as pain consumed me. I woke Ella with a kiss to her forehead. She blinked sleepily at me, her hair sticking up a little on the side that was resting on my chest. I moved her from my hold and went to start packing. I grabbed us each a pair of clothes and toiletries before going into Caleb’s room and grabbing clothes, his favorite little builder toy that Ella won for him, and his blanket.
Iowa was wet. Simple as that. It was raining when our plane landed. Detective Marshal ushered us to the waiting cars briefing with Detective Smith as we walked. They talked loud enough for me to know that they were talking, but low enough so that it sounded like a buzz and no coherent words could be made out.
Two hours later we were in the waiting room of the hospital, waiting to talk with the doctors about Caleb. The detectives had relocated to a conference room on the third floor to go over everything while Ella and I talked with the doctors. Finally we were taken into the office.
When we entered Caleb’s room, my stomach flipped and I felt sick. Rushing out of the room and to the bathroom I had just passed, I vomited from the site of his little body covered in infected cuts and gashes. Ella rubbed my back and I tried to regain my composure. Once I felt settled enough, we went back to the room. I drew up a chair next to the bed and looked at my boy. The doctor explained that they couldn’t put a medical smock on him because some of his wounds were still open and they did not wish to agitate them.
Two days later we were pulled from Caleb’s room. He was starting to wake up from the coma and the doctors wanted to run some tests. He had started to heal pretty well and would even mumble in his sleep as he came to. “Daddy,” he cried as his eyes met mine after they cleared him as mentally healthy and physically capable of being awake. “Mommy,” he looked at Ella.
I cried as I held him. Ella wrapped her arms around us and cried. Our little bubble was popped when Detective Marshal entered.
I was handed a crumpled piece of paper.
Dear Max, by the time you get this you will know that Nate is dead and your boy has little to no chance to live. I will be dead by the time you arrive. You know where to go. The first place you made love, the place we played ball, the place you first told me about your son. He was supposed to be mine. Amanda and I met two years before you started dating her. We had been together while she dated you. I still blame you for taking her from me. You’ll never find her body, but at least your boy got to meet his momma before I killed her.
Goodbye dear friend,
William
