Chapter 2
James answered without taking his eyes off the screen.
“Walker.”
The voice on the other end came through faintly, but I heard the strain in it.
“Sergeant, I’m sorry to call tonight. We need you to confirm something.”
James moved toward the hallway, keeping Emma in his arms.
“I’m home on leave.”
“I know. This concerns the incident report from your last deployment.”
The room seemed to shrink around us.
James glanced at me.
“What incident report?”
A pause.
Then: “The one involving your sister-in-law.”
His face changed.
Lauren.
I followed him into the hall.
“James?”
He lifted a finger, asking me to wait.
“I wasn’t told there was an incident involving Lauren,” he said into the phone.
“Your name appears in the supplemental notes. We need to speak with you before the report is released.”
My fingers went cold.
Lauren had never been overseas. She had never served with James. She had never even left the country as far as I knew.
“What did she have to do with it?” James asked.
The voice lowered.
“I can’t discuss details on an open line. I’m sending the secure file to your military email. You’ll need to review it tonight.”
James ended the call.
I stared at him.
“What is going on?”
“I don’t know yet.”
“Why did they mention Lauren?”
“I don’t know.”
Emma shifted in his arms. He stroked her back until she settled.
Across the dining room, my mother had risen from her chair. She watched us with a tight expression.
My father began stacking plates, though nobody had eaten much.
“James,” he called, “we can talk about this in the morning.”
“We’re leaving now.”
Margaret’s jaw tightened.
“You’re taking the baby in the middle of Christmas dinner?”
“Yes.”
“Don’t be dramatic.”
James looked at her.
“Don’t tell us what to do with our child.”
I gathered the diaper bag and my coat. My hands still shook. I had to try twice before I got the zipper closed.
My father followed us toward the front door.
“Claire, don’t leave angry.”
“I’m not angry.”
The lie barely passed my lips.
I looked at the dining room. The turkey cooled beneath its silver cover. The candles flickered. My sister’s chair was empty.
“I’m done pretending.”
My father’s face crumpled for a moment. Then he looked away.
“Call me tomorrow.”
“If I want to.”
James opened the door.
Cold air spilled into the hall.
As we stepped outside, my mother called after me.
“Lauren made a mistake. She didn’t mean to hurt Emma.”
I turned.
“She said babies need to learn when enough is enough.”
“She was upset.”
“So was Emma.”
My mother looked at the baby in James’s arms.
Then she looked away.
We drove home in silence. Emma fell asleep before we reached the end of the street. James kept one hand on the steering wheel and the other near her car seat.
At home, I checked Emma’s cheek beneath the nursery light.
The mark was faint, just as I’d thought. But she flinched when I touched the skin near it.
My stomach clenched.
“I’m calling the pediatrician,” I said.
“It’s Christmas night.”
“There’s an after-hours number.”
James didn’t argue.
The doctor asked about Emma’s breathing, her feeding, and whether she had been struck anywhere else. I answered as clearly as I could. The doctor said to bring her in if we noticed vomiting, unusual sleepiness, or changes in her behavior.
“Does a light tap leave a red mark?” I asked.
“It can. But a six-month-old shouldn’t be struck at all.”
I looked at James.
He was listening on speakerphone, his face gone blank.
After the call, he carried Emma upstairs. I sat on the couch and tried to slow my breathing.
“You heard what he said,” I told James when he came back down.
“I did.”
“We should document the mark.”
“I took a picture in the car.”
He showed me the image. The red patch was visible beneath Emma’s eye.
My throat tightened.
Then James opened his laptop.
“Did you know Lauren had access to the unit?” I asked.
“No.”
“Could there be some mistake?”
“Maybe.”
He logged in. The secure message had arrived. He read the first page without speaking.
“What is it?”
“It’s a report from eight months ago.”
“About what?”
He scrolled.
“During the deployment, one of the support contractors was accused of sending threats to a local family. The messages were traced to a temporary phone app.”
My skin prickled.
“What does Lauren have to do with it?”
He turned the screen toward me.
A name appeared in a witness statement.
Lauren Hayes.
“She was in contact with someone on the base,” I said.
“Apparently.”
“Who?”
James scrolled lower.
“Staff Sergeant Colin Price.”
I recognized the name. James had mentioned Colin a few times during calls. They had served together.
“Was he the one who called tonight?”
“No. The call came from the unit’s investigator.”
James read another section.
The report stated that Colin had received several messages from Lauren. Their relationship had become “personal and financially entangled.” During a dispute, Lauren had threatened to contact his commanding officer and his wife.
“Financially entangled?” I asked.
James kept reading.
“There’s a photograph attached.”
He opened it.
Lauren stood outside a restaurant beside Colin. His hand rested on her waist. She was smiling.
I felt a cold pressure spread through my chest.
“When was this taken?”
“Six months ago.”
“While you were overseas?”
“Yes.”
I sat down.
“Did Mom know?”
“I don’t know.”
A second file contained a message from Lauren to Colin.
If you don’t send the money tonight, I’ll tell James everything.
“What money?” I asked.
James looked at the date. The message had been sent the same week he had called me to say his pay had been delayed.
“Did you ever send Lauren money?” I asked.
“I lent her five thousand dollars. She said her car had broken down.”
“When?”
“About six months ago.”
“Did she pay it back?”
“No.”
We stared at each other.
The doorbell rang.
It was nearly midnight.
James closed the laptop.
“I’ll get it.”
He checked the camera first. My parents stood outside.
Margaret held a foil-covered plate. Robert had his hands in his coat pockets.
“I don’t want to talk,” I said.
James kept the door closed.
My father looked through the glass.
“Claire, please. We’re not here to argue.”
My mother lifted the plate.
“We brought you dinner.”
I looked down at Emma’s picture on my phone.
“Leave it on the porch.”
“Claire—”
“Please go.”
They stood there another minute.
Then my father set the plate down.
My mother said something to him that I couldn’t hear.
They left.
James opened the door only long enough to bring in the plate. Beneath the foil sat a folded piece of paper.
It read:
Your sister has made a terrible choice. Don’t let one mistake destroy your family.
I tore it in half.
James looked at me.
“I think there’s more to this,” he said.
“There always is.”
He glanced toward the laptop.
“Colin wants to meet me tomorrow.”
“Are you going?”
“Yes.”
“Then I’m coming.”
“This could be a military investigation.”
“Lauren is my sister, and she put her hand on our daughter. I’m already part of it.”
James didn’t tell me no.
He only took my hand and held it for a moment.
Neither of us slept much.
At sunrise, Emma woke hungry and cheerful, as if the night before had never happened. She curled her fingers around mine while I fed her.
I watched her tiny face and thought about how easily adults could convince themselves that a baby’s pain didn’t matter.
May you like
It mattered.
It mattered enough to change everything.
