“Who would take you?”

“Police. Or those people who take kids when parents get in trouble.”

That sentence told me more than I wanted to know.

Patrick hadn’t simply lost his temper.

He had given Wyatt a reason to stay quiet.

The front door opened behind us.

“Paramedics!”

I stood.

Two paramedics entered with equipment, and I led them to Chloe.

One took her temperature while the other asked me about the medicine.

I handed over the bottle.

The paramedic looked at the label, then at me.

“This wasn’t prescribed to her?”

“No.”

“Do you know how much she was given?”

“No.”

I gave him Patrick’s letter.

He read the first few lines and stopped.

“Keep this.”

He handed it back.

I folded it carefully and slipped it into my jacket pocket.

Then I photographed both sides.

For the first time that night, I did something besides react.

I started preserving everything.

The bottle.

The note.

The locked closet.

Wyatt’s missing shoe sitting near the back door.

I took pictures without moving anything.

A paramedic carried Chloe toward the ambulance while the other walked beside him.

Wyatt started after them.

I caught up and put my hand lightly on his shoulder.

“You’re coming with me.”

He looked toward the dark hallway.

“Grandpa.”

“What?”

“We can’t leave yet.”

The paramedic at the doorway turned toward us.

“Sir, we need to go.”

“One minute.”

Wyatt pulled me closer.

“My tablet’s dead, but the video is still there.”

“Then we’ll charge it at the hospital.”

He shook his head.

“That’s not what I mean.”

He glanced toward the stairs.

His voice dropped.

“There’s something else.”

I waited.

“Dad was looking for it before they left.”

“Looking for what?”

Wyatt pressed the dead tablet against his chest.

“The other phone.”

I stared at him.

“Whose phone?”

He looked toward the upstairs hallway.

“I hid it.”

The ambulance lights flashed red across the kitchen walls.

“Why?”

Wyatt swallowed.

“Because the video on my tablet only shows part of it.”

I took my phone from my pocket and called the dispatcher back.

I told her there was another child in the house.

I told her he had been locked in a closet.

And this time, I told her I needed police officers sent to the address too.

Then I locked the front door behind us and kept Patrick’s letter in my pocket.

Whatever Wyatt had hidden upstairs could wait until officers were standing beside me.

My son had spent the night making sure two frightened children would sound unbelievable.

I was done helping him keep control of the story.

The Phone Under the Mattress

At Nationwide Children’s Hospital, a doctor took Chloe through a set of double doors while Wyatt and I stayed in the waiting area.

A police officer named Ramirez sat across from us.

He didn’t push Wyatt.

He asked simple questions.

“How long were you in the closet?”

“I don’t know.”

“Did you have food or water?”

Wyatt shook his head.

“Did your parents lock the door?”

“Dad did.”

Officer Ramirez wrote something down.

“Why?”

Wyatt looked at me before answering.

“Because I recorded them.”

The officer glanced at the dead tablet.

I explained what Wyatt had told me.

Ramirez stood.

“We’ll arrange for someone to retrieve anything relevant from the house. Nobody needs to go searching through it tonight.”

That mattered to me.

Patrick’s note had already warned me not to believe the children. I wasn’t going to give him another excuse by disturbing the house.

A doctor came out about forty minutes later.

Chloe was stable.

They believed the medication she had been given contributed to her extreme drowsiness and needed to monitor her, but she was awake and responding.

I sat down hard.

Wyatt leaned against my arm.

“Can I see her?”

“Soon,” the doctor said.

My phone rang.

Patrick.

I stared at his name.

Officer Ramirez noticed.

“You can answer if you want.”

I put the phone on speaker.

“Dad?”

Patrick sounded irritated rather than worried.

“Where are you?”

“At the hospital.”

Silence.

Then:

“Why?”

I looked at Wyatt.

“Because Chloe needed medical care.”

Patrick exhaled loudly.

“Dad, I left you a note specifically because I knew you’d overreact.”

I didn’t answer.

“Where’s Wyatt?”

“With me.”

This time the silence lasted longer.

“What do you mean, with you?”

“I found him.”

Patrick’s voice became quieter.

“Found him where?”

I looked at Officer Ramirez.

“You know where.”

Patrick hung up.

No goodbye.

No question about Chloe.

Just silence.

Officer Ramirez wrote that down too.

What Wyatt Had Recorded

Police retrieved the hidden phone later that morning.

Wyatt had pushed it beneath the mattress in his room after taking it from an old charging station.

The tablet was charged at the hospital.

I didn’t watch the recording first.

An officer did.