Chapter 5 - The Secret Phone Inside the Daycare
By noon, three families had contacted police.
By evening, there were seven.
Not every complaint involved Melissa.
That somehow made it worse.
Some parents described children coming home frightened.
Some described unexplained behavior changes.
One mother said her daughter had suddenly become terrified of closed bathroom doors.
Another father said his son begged not to return after lunch one afternoon.
Carla had called those incidents “separation anxiety.”
Melissa had called them “tantrums.”
I sat at my kitchen table while Dad read the names investigators had asked him about.
He recognized some.
Not all.
Every time he recognized one, his face changed.
“I remember this family.”
Then another.
“I remember them too.”
I wanted to scream at him.
Instead, I asked, “What do you remember?”
He rubbed his forehead.
“Their son left after four months. Carla told me his parents moved him because they wanted a center closer to work.”
“Did you ever ask them?”
“No.”
Ryan stood by the window.
“Of course not.”
Dad flinched.
I shot Ryan a look.
He didn’t apologize.
The day had turned our house into a war room.
Police calls.
Social worker calls.
Insurance calls for Dad.
A therapist referral for Noah.
Messages from relatives who had somehow heard fragments.
I ignored nearly all of them.
Noah sat on the living room rug building a tower with blocks.
Every few minutes, I checked him.
Every few minutes, I caught Ryan doing the same.
When the tower fell, Noah jumped.
Not cried.
Jumped.
His whole body jerked.
Ryan and I exchanged a look.
That tiny reaction hurt more than anything.
At three, the detective asked Ryan and me to come to the station without Noah.
Dad stayed with him.
Ryan hesitated.
“I don’t want to leave him.”
Neither did I.
Noah looked at us from the couch.
“Grandpa can stay.”
Dad crouched beside him.
“Only if you want me to, buddy.”
Noah nodded.
Then he looked at me.
“You’re coming back?”
I knelt.
“Always.”
“Before dark?”
“Yes.”
He held out his pinky.
I linked mine with his.
“Before dark.”
At the station, Detective Morales met us in a small interview room.
He was tired.
So were we.
He placed a legal pad on the table.
“I want to update you on what we can.”
“Is Melissa still being held?” Ryan asked.
“For now.”
“What is she saying?”
Morales looked at me.
“She says Noah accidentally injured himself.”
Ryan’s fists tightened.
“She says the videos were training materials.”
I stared.
“Training materials?”
“She claims they were meant to document difficult behavior among children and staff responses.”
“That’s insane.”
Morales nodded slightly.
“We’re examining the original files, dates, metadata, and context.”
“Where’s Carla?”
“We found her.”
I leaned forward.
“Where?”
“She checked into a motel in Rockford under her sister’s name.”
“Was she arrested?”
“She’s being questioned.”
Ryan asked, “Did she confess?”
“I can’t discuss the details of her statement.”
That meant something.
Morales continued.
“But I can tell you her account does not match Melissa’s.”
I looked at Ryan.
“What does that mean?”
“It means they’re blaming each other.”
Morales gave a small nod.
I felt sick.
Of course they were.
People who hurt children together didn’t suddenly become loyal when police arrived.
“What did Jennifer Walsh give you?” I asked.
Morales looked at his notes.
“Documentation showing she raised concerns approximately eleven months ago.”
“What concerns?”
He hesitated.
I hated that hesitation.
“Her daughter had a bruise on her upper arm and told her mother Melissa grabbed her.”
My eyes closed.
Dad’s old complaint.
The one Carla had supposedly investigated.
“Was that the complaint Dad heard about?”
“Yes.”
“So Carla buried it.”
“We believe records were altered.”
Ryan leaned forward.
“Then why wasn’t Melissa fired?”
“Because the owner was given false information.”
I heard the words.
Ryan did too.
Neither of us spoke.
Morales flipped another page.
“We also found deleted emails on Carla’s laptop backup.”
“You found the laptop?”
“At her sister’s house.”
“What emails?”
“Messages between Carla and Melissa.”
My pulse quickened.
“About children?”
“Some.”
“And the others?”
He looked directly at me.
“About your father.”
I stared.
“What about him?”
“They were concerned he might sell the daycare.”
Dad had mentioned selling once.
Two years earlier.
He was tired of managing staff issues and wanted to retire eventually.
I had forgotten about it.
Morales continued.
“One message from Melissa says, ‘If he sells, we lose everything.’”
“What does that mean?”
“We’re still determining that.”
Ryan’s eyes narrowed.
“Money?”
“Possibly.”
I laughed without humor.
“Dad paid Melissa a salary.”
Morales said nothing.
That scared me.
“What?”
“We found indications of financial irregularities.”
My stomach dropped.
“How much?”
“We’re not ready to give a number.”
“Was Melissa stealing from my father?”
“We’re investigating.”
I sat back.
Suddenly I saw a different picture.
Not just cruelty.
Not just a woman losing her temper around children.
A system of secrets.
Complaints hidden.
Videos kept.
Records changed.
Money missing.
“Why would she record herself doing anything wrong?” I asked.
Morales tapped his pen once.
“We asked the same question.”
“And?”
“We think some videos may have been used against other employees.”
Ryan frowned.
“Blackmail?”
“We’re not using that word yet.”
I understood anyway.
Melissa had always collected people’s mistakes.
At family dinners, she remembered things said years earlier.
If I challenged her, she brought up some old argument.
If Dad said no, she reminded him of a promise he had broken.
She didn’t forgive weaknesses.
She stored them.
The thought made me cold.
“Was Noah in more than one recording?”
Morales stopped writing.
My lungs tightened.
“Detective.”
“There are three clips involving Noah.”
Ryan stood so quickly his chair scraped backward.
“What?”
“Sit down, Mr. Carter.”
“No.”
“Ryan.”
I grabbed his hand.
Morales spoke carefully.
“One appears to have been recorded at the daycare during a visit several weeks ago.”
I remembered.
I had taken Noah there when Dad invited us for lunch.
Melissa had spent twenty minutes showing him the playroom.
I had been in Dad’s office.
Trusting her.
“What happens in it?”
Morales looked at me.
“He witnesses your sister yelling at another child.”
My throat tightened.
“The second?”
“Your home. Yesterday.”
Ryan’s face changed.
“And the third?”
Morales paused.
“It appears to have been recorded before your business trip.”
I stared.
“That’s impossible.”
“It was recorded in your kitchen.”
My skin prickled.
“How?”
“We’re investigating.”
I tried to understand.
“Melissa wasn’t babysitting before my trip.”
Morales watched me closely.
“Mrs. Carter, do you hide a spare key outside your house?”
I stopped breathing.
Ryan turned toward me.
There was a spare key.
Under a magnetic box inside the backyard grill cabinet.
Only family knew.
Dad.
Mom.
Melissa.
I whispered, “Yes.”
May you like
Morales closed his notebook.
“The third video suggests your sister had been entering your home before yesterday.”
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