Chapter 1 - THE NUMBER LEO REMEMBERED
The first thing I heard was Chad laughing.
Not ordinary laughter.
Not irritation.
The kind of laughter a grown man makes when he wants a child to understand that nobody is coming.
“Cry louder. Maybe your dad can hear you from heaven.”
I was already on the front porch.
Leo’s emergency phone had connected to mine thirty-seven seconds earlier.
No greeting.
No explanation.
Only breathing.
Then crying.
I had driven to the house because Chad had ignored every message I sent after I returned to Virginia that afternoon.
My flight from Germany landed seven hours earlier than planned.
I had not seen Leo in six months.
I had been told he was safe.
I had been told he was asleep.
I had been told coming without notice would “confuse him.”
Then the emergency number lit up on my phone.
The same number my older brother Daniel programmed into Leo’s little handset two years earlier.
I heard Leo sob.
“My dad told me to call this number if I was scared.”
Then Chad answered him.
“He’s dead.”
A crack followed.
Glass exploded.
I hit the open door at a run.
Leo was on the floor beside a destroyed glass-topped coffee table.
Barefoot.
T-shirt twisted.
One knee bruised.
Several fading marks ran along the outside of his lower leg.
He had both arms raised over his head.
Chad stood six feet away gripping a wooden baseball bat.
“Put the bat down and get away from him!”
Chad turned.
His expression moved from surprise to annoyance.
Then contempt.
“Jackson.”
“Bat.”
“Walk away.”
He lifted it slightly.
“This is family business.”
I looked at Leo.
He was shaking so hard the emergency phone rattled against the floor.
Then I looked back at Chad.
“I am his family.”
He stepped toward me.
Maybe he meant to swing.
Maybe he meant to intimidate.
I did not wait long enough to find out.
I stepped inside his reach and hit him once.
My right fist caught the center of his face.
His head snapped backward.
He lost the bat.
Then he lost his footing.
Chad crashed beside the shattered glass.
The bat struck the rug.
I kicked it away.
I did not hit him again.
That distinction would matter later.
At the time, the only thing that mattered was Leo.
I turned.
He stared at me.
“Uncle Jackson?”
“Yeah, buddy.”
His lower lip trembled.
Then he threw himself against me.
I went down to one knee.
“Easy. I’ve got you.”
He buried his face against my neck.
“Daddy said you’d come.”
The words stopped me.
Daniel had been dead for twenty-six months.
I had been at Dover when his remains returned.
I had carried one side of the flag-draped transfer case.
“What did you say?”
Leo tightened both arms around me.
“Daddy said call the number.”
“I know.”
“He said Uncle Jackson comes if I’m really scared.”
I closed my eyes.
Daniel had apparently given his son a promise involving me.
One he never explained before he died.
Behind us, Chad groaned.
I shifted so Leo could not see him.
“You hurt anywhere besides your leg?”
“My knee.”
“Head?”
He shook it.
“Did the bat touch you?”
Another shake.
That gave me one breath of relief.
Then I saw the bruises again.
Not one fresh mark.
Several.
Different colors.
Different ages.
My stomach went cold.
I reached for my phone.
“Police first. Ambulance second.”
Chad pushed himself onto one elbow.
“You call anybody and you’ll regret it.”
I looked at him.
“You were standing over a four-year-old with a baseball bat.”
“I hit the table.”
“I saw that.”
“He was throwing a tantrum.”
Leo flinched.
I felt it through his body.
That told me more than Chad’s explanation.
I called 911.
Then I moved Leo toward the front porch.
As I picked up his emergency phone, its screen lit.
There was no ordinary call interface.
A black screen showed three lines.
EMERGENCY PROTOCOL ACTIVATED.
PRIMARY FAMILY CONTACT: JACKSON.
SECONDARY TRUST CONTACT: PENDING.
I stared.
Trust contact?
I had never seen that line.
Daniel had told me the phone was “just a kid-proof emergency device.”
Apparently Daniel had lied by omission.
Leo touched my cheek.
“Uncle Jackson?”
“Yes?”
“Don’t give it to Chad.”
I looked at the phone again.
“I won’t.”
Chad heard.
May you like
His face changed.
For the first time since I entered the house, he looked afraid.
