Chapter 2 - What Juniper Heard Behind the Door
I carried Juniper straight to the car.
Willa followed us outside.
Cold evening air hit my face hard enough to make my eyes water.
I strapped Juniper into her car seat.
Her breathing remained steady.
She still looked exhausted.
I checked her pulse with trembling fingers even though the nurse had not told me to.
I needed to touch her.
I needed proof she was still here.
Willa stood beside the open rear door.
“I’m sorry.”
I looked at her.
“For what?”
“I should have stopped Tabitha earlier.”
“You recorded her.”
“I watched for almost two minutes because I couldn’t believe what I was seeing.”
“You gave me evidence.”
Willa shook her head.
“I should have grabbed the inhaler.”
I understood the guilt.
I also understood shock.
“You helped Juniper tonight.”
Willa looked toward the house.
“I don’t think tonight was the first time.”
Neither did I.
I closed Juniper’s door.
Then my phone buzzed.
Orson.
I rejected the call.
It rang again immediately.
I rejected it again.
A message appeared.
CALL ME BEFORE YOU DO SOMETHING STUPID.
I stared at those words.
Something stupid.
Apparently, protecting my daughter qualified.
Willa touched my arm.
“There’s something else.”
My head came up.
“What?”
She hesitated.
“I heard your dad and Tabitha arguing last week.”
“About Juniper?”
“I didn’t know at the time.”
“What did they say?”
Willa glanced at the windows of the house.
“Tabitha said they were running out of time.”
My stomach tightened.
“Time for what?”
“I don’t know.”
“What exactly did Dad say?”
Willa closed her eyes for a second.
“He said, ‘Once Caleb looks unstable, the rest will be easy.’”
The driveway tilted beneath my feet.
“Unstable?”
Willa nodded.
“That’s the word he used.”
I looked toward the house.
Through the front window, I saw Orson standing motionless in the foyer.
Watching us.
I turned away.
“Send me everything you remember.”
“I will.”
“Don’t tell them where I’m going.”
“Where are you going?”
“I don’t know yet.”
That was true.
Home suddenly did not feel safe.
Not because Tabitha had a key.
She did not.
But because I had no idea how far this went.
Juniper’s mother, Elise, had died two years earlier.
An aneurysm had taken her on a bright September morning while Juniper was napping in the room beside us.
One moment, Elise had been laughing because I had burned pancakes.
Thirty minutes later, paramedics were fighting to save her life.
Afterward, the Mercers had surrounded Juniper and me.
Orson brought groceries.
Tabitha babysat.
My aunt washed clothes.
Cousins handled birthdays.
For two years, I had thought they were helping me survive.
Now I wondered what they had been collecting while they helped.
Mistakes.
Photographs.
Stories.
Moments of exhaustion.
Evidence.
I climbed into the driver’s seat.
Juniper spoke from behind me.
“Daddy?”
“Yes?”
“Are we going home?”
I looked at her reflection in the mirror.
“Not yet.”
“Why?”
“Because I want you somewhere extra safe tonight.”
She thought about that.
“Can Bunny come?”
Her stuffed rabbit was sticking from the backpack beside her.
“Absolutely.”
I called my closest friend, Grant Holloway.
Grant and I had met during our first year teaching at the same high school.
He knew everything about Elise.
He knew everything about Juniper’s asthma.
And unlike my family, Grant never made me feel indebted when he helped.
He answered on the second ring.
“What happened?”
He knew from my voice.
“I need a place for Juniper and me tonight.”
“My guest room is yours.”
“No questions?”
“Questions after you get here.”
I nearly broke down.
“Thank you.”
“Caleb.”
“Yes?”
“Is Juniper okay?”
“For now.”
“Then drive.”
Twenty minutes later, I pulled into Grant’s driveway.
His wife, Meredith, was already waiting with the porch light on.
She opened the door before I reached it.
Juniper knew them well.
She let Meredith carry her inside.
Grant looked at my face.
“Who did you hit?”
I blinked.
“How do you know I hit someone?”
“Your knuckles are red.”
I looked down.
“They’re not my knuckles.”
Grant waited.
“I slapped Tabitha.”
He stared at me.
“Start talking.”
We sat in his kitchen.
I showed them Willa’s video.
Meredith covered her mouth.
Grant watched it twice.
Then a third time.
When he finished, he put my phone carefully on the table.
“Call the police.”
“I’m going to.”
“Not tomorrow.”
“I know.”
“Tonight.”
“I know.”
Juniper appeared in the kitchen doorway wearing borrowed pajamas.
“Daddy?”
I immediately stood.
“What is it?”
She rubbed one eye.
“I remembered the other thing.”
I crouched.
“What other thing?”
She looked at Grant and Meredith uncertainly.
“They’re safe.”
Juniper nodded.
Then she whispered.
“Grandpa takes pictures.”
My skin went cold.
“What kind of pictures?”
“When you’re sleeping.”
Grant looked at me.
I forced my voice to remain calm.
“Grandpa takes pictures of me sleeping?”
Juniper nodded.
“And when the kitchen is messy.”
I stared at her.
“What else?”
“When you forgot my lunch.”
My chest tightened.
Three months earlier, I had left Juniper’s lunchbox on the counter during a chaotic morning.
I had driven it to preschool twenty minutes later.
I remembered telling Orson about it jokingly.
I had thought nothing of it.
“What does Grandpa do with the pictures?”
“He sends them to Aunt Tabby.”
“How do you know?”
“She showed me.”
Grant stood very still behind Juniper.
I kept my face gentle.
“Why did she show you?”
Juniper picked at the cuff of her pajama sleeve.
“She said it was proof.”
“Proof of what?”
“That you’re not good at being Daddy.”
I felt something inside me fracture.
Meredith quietly turned away.
I pulled Juniper into my arms.
“You listen to me.”
She looked at me.
“You did nothing wrong.”
“Okay.”
“And nobody is taking you anywhere.”
Her lower lip trembled.
“Aunt Tabby said a judge would.”
Grant and I exchanged a look.
I kissed Juniper’s forehead.
“You don’t need to worry about judges tonight.”
“Okay.”
“Go with Meredith.”
Meredith held out her hand.
Juniper took it.
After they left, Grant sat across from me.
“This is a custody setup.”
I nodded.
“I know.”
“Why?”
That was the question.
Why would my sister want custody of my daughter?
Tabitha had no children.
She had never expressed any desire to raise Juniper.
She liked posting photographs with her.
She liked introducing herself as Juniper’s favorite aunt.
But she had never volunteered for overnight care unless Orson suggested it.
Then I remembered Elise’s will.
My eyes went to Grant.
“Elise’s trust.”
Grant frowned.
“What about it?”
“Elise’s grandparents left her money.”
“How much?”
“I don’t know exactly.”
“You don’t know?”
“It was structured through a family trust.”
“Who controls it?”
“Juniper inherits the principal when she turns twenty-five.”
Grant leaned forward.
“And until then?”
I swallowed.
“The guardian has access to approved distributions for Juniper’s housing, education, health, and welfare.”
Grant’s expression darkened.
“How much money are we talking about?”
“I was told around three million when Elise died.”
Silence.
Then my phone rang.
Unknown number.
I almost ignored it.
Grant gestured toward the screen.
“Answer.”
I did.
“Hello?”
A woman spoke.
“Mr. Mercer?”
“Yes.”
“My name is Dana Hargrove.”
The name sounded familiar.
“I’m an attorney representing your father.”
Every instinct in my body sharpened.
“Regarding what?”
There was a pause.
Then she answered.
“A petition involving the emergency welfare and temporary custody of your daughter.”
My fingers went numb.
“That petition was filed this afternoon.”
May you like
Hours before Tabitha took Juniper’s inhaler.
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