Chapter 2 - THE CALL SHE WOULD NOT ANSWER
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The phone continued vibrating while no one moved. Its mechanical hum seemed unnaturally loud in the music room, filling the silence between the broken violin pieces and the water still dripping from Emma’s sweater. Robert kept one arm around his granddaughter and watched Claire carefully, unsure whether she was about to explode again or collapse.
“Answer it,” he said.
Claire’s eyes hardened. “It’s none of your business.”
The phone stopped.
For three seconds, there was only Emma’s breathing.
Then it began vibrating again.
Robert stood slowly, keeping himself between Claire and the child. “Someone seems determined to reach you.”
Claire pulled the phone from her pocket and turned the screen away. Robert caught only a fragment before she pressed the side button: UNKNOWN CALLER, followed by a number he did not recognize.
“Spam,” she said.
Robert looked at her face. “You don’t look afraid of spam.”
Claire slipped the phone behind her back. “You hit me with a violin. Maybe I’m afraid of you.”
The accusation hung there, and Robert did not dismiss it. He looked down at the broken instrument on the floor, then at his own hand. He knew what he had done. He knew that protecting Emma did not erase the fact that he had struck Claire. The thought sickened him.
“I should not have swung it,” he said quietly. “But I will not leave Emma here.”
Claire seized on the admission. “Good. At least you know what you did.”
“I also know what I saw.”
Robert crouched again and lifted Emma into his arms. She was old enough to walk but clung to him immediately, wrapping both arms around his neck. The wet fabric of her sweater soaked into his shirt.
Claire stepped toward them. “Put her down.”
Robert backed toward the door. “No.”
“You cannot just take her.”
“I’m taking her downstairs, changing her out of wet clothes, and calling Daniel.”
Claire’s face tightened at Daniel’s name.
That reaction stayed with Robert.
He carried Emma into the hallway and headed for the guest bedroom where Daniel kept spare clothes for her. Claire followed only as far as the doorway, standing beneath the music-room light with her arms wrapped tightly around herself.
“Robert,” she called after him, “if you tell Daniel some twisted version of this, I swear you’ll regret it.”
He stopped.
Emma’s cheek rested against his shoulder. He could feel her listening.
Robert turned only enough to meet Claire’s eyes. “If you’re worried about the truth, that is your problem now.”
He continued down the hall.
The guest bedroom smelled faintly of laundry soap. Robert set Emma on the bed and found dry pajamas in the dresser. He moved carefully, speaking in the calm tone he had used when Daniel was little and woke from nightmares.
“Can you change by yourself if I stand outside the bathroom door?” he asked.
Emma nodded.
He handed her the clothes and waited while she changed in the small adjoining bathroom. The moment the door closed, Robert took out his phone and called his son.
Daniel answered on the fifth ring.
“Dad?” His voice was muffled by airport noise. “Everything okay?”
“No,” Robert said. “It’s not.”
The directness cut through Daniel’s distraction. “What happened?”
Robert glanced toward the bathroom door. “I came by the house. I found Emma in the music room soaked with water. Claire poured a bucket over her because she played a guitar chord wrong.”
There was silence on the line.
Then Daniel exhaled sharply. “What?”
“I saw the bucket. I saw Emma. Claire admitted she was making her practice.”
“That doesn’t make sense.”
“I know.”
Daniel lowered his voice. “Where’s Emma now?”
“With me. She’s changing into dry clothes.”
Another pause.
Robert decided not to soften the rest. “Claire slapped me.”
Daniel cursed under his breath. “Dad—”
“I reacted. I picked up Margaret’s violin and hit Claire with it when she moved toward Emma again.”
This silence was longer.
Robert closed his eyes.
“Is Claire hurt?” Daniel finally asked.
“She stumbled into the piano bench. I don’t see any serious injury, but I don’t know. The violin broke.”
“The violin?”
“Yes.”
Daniel’s breathing changed, the way it always did when he was trying to solve too many problems at once. “I’m getting on the first flight back.”
“You should.”
“Dad, listen to me. Don’t leave the house yet.”
Robert frowned. “Why?”
“Because if Claire calls the police first and says you attacked her and kidnapped Emma, this gets ugly fast.”
Robert looked toward the hallway.
Daniel continued. “Stay with Emma. Don’t argue with Claire. I’m calling my lawyer and then I’m calling the police myself.”
The bathroom door opened.
Emma stepped out wearing blue pajamas with tiny stars. Her wet hair had been wrapped in a towel, and she looked smaller than Robert had ever seen her.
“I have to go,” Robert said.
“Dad.” Daniel’s voice caught him before he could end the call. “Is she scared of Claire?”
Robert looked at his granddaughter.
Emma stared at the carpet.
“Yes,” he said.
Daniel did not speak for several seconds.
Then he said, “I’m coming home.”
The call ended.
Robert sat beside Emma on the bed. “Your dad is coming back tonight.”
Emma’s head lifted. “Is he mad?”
“Not at you.”
“You promise?”
Robert hated that she needed to ask. “I promise.”
Emma rubbed the edge of the towel between her fingers. “Claire says Daddy gets tired when I make problems.”
Robert felt something heavy settle in his chest. “You are not a problem.”
“She says he works because I cost a lot.”
Robert stared at her.
Emma continued in the matter-of-fact voice children sometimes used when repeating terrible things they had heard too often. “She says if I’m good, he won’t leave like Mommy did.”
Emma’s biological mother, Rachel, had died when Emma was barely two. She had not left by choice. Robert knew Daniel had explained that gently many times.
“Emma,” he said, choosing each word, “your mommy died because she was very sick after the accident. She did not leave you.”
Emma’s eyes filled immediately. “Claire said she got tired of us first.”
Robert had to look away.
Anger rose in him faster than before, but this anger was different. It was not the hot panic that had moved his arm in the music room. This was colder, deeper. It came with questions.
How long had Claire been saying these things?
What else had happened when no one was watching?
The front doorbell rang downstairs.
Emma jumped.
Robert stood. “Stay here.”
“No.” Emma grabbed his sleeve.
He paused.
“Come with me,” he said.
They descended the stairs together. Claire was already in the foyer, now wearing a dark cardigan over her cream blouse. Her phone was in her hand. She had reapplied lipstick.
Two police officers stood outside the open front door.
Robert stopped halfway down the staircase.
Claire looked up at him.
“I called them,” she said.
One officer, a woman in her forties, raised a hand calmly. “Sir, I’m Officer Morales. We need everyone to stay where we are for a moment.”
Robert nodded and did not move.
Emma pressed closer to his leg.
Claire spoke first. “He came into my house without permission, threatened me, hit me with an instrument, and now he refuses to give me my stepdaughter.”
Robert looked at Officer Morales. “I have a key. My son asked me to check the radiator. I found my granddaughter soaked in the music room after Claire poured water over her.”
Claire turned sharply. “That’s not what happened.”
Emma flinched at her voice.
Officer Morales noticed.
The second officer stepped inside and closed the door against the cold. “Is the child injured?”
“No visible injury,” Robert said. “But she was terrified.”
Claire scoffed. “She was throwing a fit.”
Emma whispered, “I wasn’t.”
Everyone heard her.
Officer Morales lowered herself slightly so she was not towering over the child. “Hi, sweetheart. What’s your name?”
“Emma.”
“Emma, can you tell me why your hair is wet?”
Emma looked at Robert.
He said nothing.
She looked at Claire.
Then she whispered, “Because I made the string sound bad.”
Claire’s face went still.
Officer Morales’s expression changed by only a fraction, but Robert saw it.
“Who poured the water?” she asked.
Emma pointed.
Claire immediately stepped forward. “She is four. She doesn’t understand what happened.”
Officer Morales stood. “Ma’am, I need you to give her space.”
The authority in her voice stopped Claire.
The second officer went upstairs to inspect the music room. Robert remained in the foyer with Emma, one hand resting on her shoulder.
Claire said nothing for nearly a minute.
Then her phone vibrated again.
This time, Officer Morales heard it.
Claire looked down.
The screen lit her face.
A message appeared before she could hide it.
Robert could not read all of it from across the room, but Officer Morales was standing closer.
Her eyes moved across the screen.
Claire quickly locked the phone.
Officer Morales looked at her. “Who is ‘Mason’?”
Claire’s color drained.
“No one.”
Robert’s heart kicked hard against his ribs.
Officer Morales’s gaze remained steady. “The message said, ‘Did he find the recordings?’ What recordings?”
Claire said nothing.
Upstairs, the second officer called down.
“Morales?”
“Yes?”
“There’s a camera in the music room.”
Robert looked toward the ceiling.
Claire closed her eyes.
The officer continued from above. “And it’s pointed directly at the child’s chair.”
Robert felt Emma’s fingers tighten around his.
Officer Morales turned back to Claire.
“Ma’am,” she said, “I think we need to have a longer conversation.”
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And suddenly, the broken violin was no longer the most important evidence in the house.
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