Chapter Four
CHAPTER FOUR
And now I know.
I swivel around and look in the back seat to prove to myself that I’m wrong. But there’s Maisie, strapped in, clutching her Mr. Zebra. Niko’s car seat is empty. Too late: the image of him on his belly behind the car, studying those ants.
When I move to pick him up, cradle him, Shawn stops me.
Tells me to leave him where he is. He pulls me up onto my feet and bear-hugs me.
Maisie! She’s still in the car. But no, she isn’t.
Linda’s gotten her out and is holding her, shielding her from the horror.
Looking confused and frightened, Maisie reaches for me.
Taking her in my arms, I try to hold it in but can’t.
When I start to wail, she does, too. “What do I do?” I ask Linda. “I don’t know what to do!”
“You need to call Emily,” she says.
I shake my head. “I can’t. How can I tell her it happened because of—”
“You have to tell her, Corby. She needs to know.”
I nod and rummage in my pockets for my cell phone.
“Must have forgotten my phone in the house,” I tell Linda.
“Can you hold her for a few more minutes?” She nods.
“Daddy has to call Mommy first,” I tell Maisie.
“Then I can hold you.” Feeling a surge of nausea, I run toward the house, trying not to hear her screams for Daddy.
Where is it? Where’s my fucking phone? In a frenzy, I run from the kitchen to the bathroom, from our bedroom to the kids’ room.
I’m stopped by the photo on the shelf by their dresser: the two of them standing up in their crib, wearing the sleepers we gave away after they outgrew them.
Maisie’s smiling sweetly; Niko, the comedian, is making a goofy face.
Oh God, what if…? How can what’s happening be real when twenty minutes earlier I was wiping syrup off his face and lifting him out of his high chair?
I don’t want to go back out there. I want to stay in here, in the safety of before it happened. Before I put it in reverse and…
In my second sweep, I see my phone sitting in plain sight on the kitchen counter.
I grab it and tell it to call Emily, but it rings unanswered until Em’s voice kicks in and says to leave her a message.
I text her: Emergency! Come home now. There’s no immediate text back.
Goddammit! She must have turned her phone off. I run back outside.
The ambulance is here. The EMTs are bent over Niko, blocking my view.
“Daddy!” Maisie screams. I stand there, confused about which kid to go to until Linda walks toward me holding out my daughter.
Arlene from down the street is with her.
I take Maisie and begin walking toward Niko until Arlene grabs my arm.
“Are you thinking clearly?” she asks. “You don’t want her to have to see this, do you?
” I shake my head. Walk Maisie to the far end of our lawn to shelter her—both of us—from what’s happening on the driveway.
“It’s okay, it’s okay,” I keep telling Maisie to stop her crying. “Everything’s okay.” This may be the biggest lie I’ve ever told in my life.
No! I tell myself. His sister needs him.
His mother and I wouldn’t be able to cope if…
and Niko’s a tough little guy. He’s still breathing, still fighting to live.
Emergency responders are trained and these two look like they know what they’re doing.
Maybe he’ll need surgery when he gets to the hospital, but doctors perform miracles. He’s going to make it. He is.
I look past the ambulance’s flashing lights at the end of the driveway to the neighbors huddled together on the McNallys’ front lawn.
Arlene and her husband, J.G.; Dylan and Rashon, the couple who bought the Olmsteads’ place; Mary Louise and her daughter, Jodi, who sometimes babysits for us.
The week before, Jodi walked her new puppy over to let the twins see her.
Why are they still working on him here ?
Get him in the ambulance! Get him to the hospital!
Two cruisers pull up in front of the house, one after the other.
Two pairs of cops. The first pair walks to where it happened.
Squatting, examining the right rear tire.
One of them begins taking measurements, the other takes cell phone photos.
The second pair of officers approach the neighbors.
Linda McNally’s voice is the only one that carries over to me.
“We screamed for him to stop, but he didn’t hear us! ”
The police must have asked where I was, because I see Shawn McNally pointing in my direction. As they cross the street toward Maisie and me, Linda calls to them. “It was an accident ! A terrible accident ! He’s a wonderful father!”
Oh God, Emily still doesn’t know. “Someone call my wife’s school!” I shout over to the neighbors. “West Vine Elementary! She’s got a field trip today, but maybe they haven’t left yet!” Rashon waves his cell phone at me and says he’s on it.
“Hello, sir,” the stocky older cop says. “This is Officer Longo and I’m Sergeant Fazio. You’re the boy’s father?”
“Yes.”
“And you were the operator of the vehicle?”
“Yes.”
He waits for me to compose myself. “This one yours, too?” he asks.
I nod. “Twins.”
“She and the victim?”
The victim ? Don’t call him that! “His name is Niko,” I say.
The younger cop focuses his attention on Maisie. “I have a little girl just about your age,” he says. “What’s your name, sweetheart?”
Maisie buries her face against my chest and mumbles, “Don’t see me.”
“Think you can have someone else take her while we talk to you?” the sergeant asks. I nod. Call Jodi and her mom over. When I ask whether they can take care of Maisie for me, Mary Louise says of course, whatever I need.
“No! I want Daddy!” Maisie shouts. But Jodi reminds her about the new puppy.
Does she want to come over to their house and play with Cupcake?
Maisie hesitates, but then she nods and detaches herself from me.
When I put her down, Jodi and her mom each take her by the hand.
“We can keep her for as long you need us to,” Mary Louise calls back as they walk her away. “We’ll pray for Niko.”
The sergeant does the talking. “We need to ask you some questions, Mr.…?”
“Ledbetter.” I pull out my wallet and, with a shaking hand, offer my driver’s license.
The younger one takes it. “I’ll get started on this,” he says.
Walks toward their cruiser, my information in hand.
The sergeant gets close to my face and says I should tell him exactly what happened and everything leading up to it.
“And I need you to be as specific as you can, all right? Don’t leave anything out, even if you think it might not be important. ”
I back up a step or two. Begin with the French toast, the smoke alarm, Emily’s field trip, the plan to take them to my mother-in-law’s.
I listen to myself retell the lie I had told my wife: that I was planning to spend the day job-hunting.
I don’t mention anything about the liquor-laced coffee or the extra Ativan.
When I finally stop talking, I notice he’s looking down at my trembling hands.
At the end of the driveway, the EMTs are on their feet.
They’ve placed Niko in the middle of an adult-sized stretcher and are rolling him into the back of their ambulance.
One of them climbs in back with him. The other heads to the front and gets in the driver’s seat.
“I need to go with him to the hospital,” I tell the sergeant.
As the ambulance pulls away, lights flashing, I shout, “Hey! Hold up!” The siren begins blaring; they pick up speed.
Turning back to the sergeant, I plead, “He needs me! I’m his dad! ”
“Why don’t Officer Longo and I give you a ride over there?” he says. “That way, you can continue telling us what happened.”
“Yeah, but… I’ll have to sign things, give them information. He might need surgery. Who knows how long we’re going to be there? I should take my own car.”
“You mean the SUV?” He shakes his head. “That stays put. When they get here, the detectives are going to want to have a look at it. And anyway, you’re probably not in good shape to drive right now.” My stomach heaves. I wait. “Too shook up maybe, huh? We’ll give you a lift.”
“I don’t understand why detectives have to—”
“Standard procedure, sir. Especially if your boy doesn’t make it. I’m not saying that’s gonna happen but—”
“It’s not going to happen! But he needs his father. I should be with him in that ambulance!”
“Is he conscious, Mr. Ledbetter?”
His question stops me cold. “What?”
“Because if he was unconscious, or if they sedated him, he wouldn’t know one way or the other if you were there.”
I just stand there, silenced by his logic, his fucking cruelty.
“Come on, Mr. Ledbetter,” he says. “You’re right. He’s going to need his dad. His mother, too. Has she been contacted?” I say I’m not sure—that her phone is turned off but I had someone call the school. He probably got the office secretary.
“Okay, good, so let’s go. Cruiser’s over here.” What’s his name again? I glance at the name tag pinned to his shirt pocket. Fazio. Sergeant Fazio.
As he walks me toward the car, I hear the other cop talking into the radio. “He may be EtOH, too. Not sure, but it’s a possibility.… Copy that. I’ll see if I can get someone at the hospital to draw it for us.”