Jesse finished the call and crouched several feet away.
“They’re coming.”
“Good.”
I took out my phone and called Clara again.
This time she answered before the second ring.
“Dad?”
Airport noise was gone.
I could hear wheels and voices around her, but she sounded much clearer.
“I just landed.
I saw your message.
What happened?”
I looked at Liam.
There was no gentle way to say it.
“Clara, Liam is at your house.”
Silence.
“What?”
“He’s here with me.
He’s safe.”
“What do you mean he’s there?”
“Evan brought him here.”
Her breathing changed.
“Dad.”
“He’s okay.”
“No, listen to me.
Evan is supposed to have Liam today.”
“I know.”
“Why would he take him to my house?”
“I think he came looking for something.”
Clara stopped speaking.
Then she asked, very quietly, “Is my office open?”
“Yes.”
“Are the drawers pulled out?”
“Yes.”
Another silence.
This one was different.
Not confusion.
Recognition.
“Clara, what did you box up?”
She exhaled.
“Custody records.”
I stared at the office doorway.
“What kind of records?”
“Everything.”
For months, she explained, she had been keeping copies of messages, missed exchanges, expense receipts, photographs, notes from hearings, and a detailed calendar of every incident involving Evan and the custody dispute.
She had become worried after noticing the truck passing her house.
So before her trip, she removed the most important files from her office and placed them somewhere Evan could not reach.
“That’s why the house looks empty,” I said.
“Yes.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because I didn’t know if I was being paranoid.”
“You weren’t.”
Her voice cracked.
“Is Liam really okay?”
I handed the phone to him.
“Mom?”
I watched Clara’s son transform the second he heard her voice.
