Chapter 4: The Things I Never Said Out Loud
Torres wrote for a long time.
I talked.
I don't know for how long.
Noah sat beside me the whole time, his shoulder pressed against my arm.
At some point Torres asked if he should wait in another room, and he looked at me and I shook my head.
"He already knows," I said.
"He's known longer than I wanted him to."
Torres set her pen down.
"Mrs.
Callahan, has he ever threatened you with something specific?
Something he said he would do if you told anyone?"
I looked at my hands on the table.
"He told me that if I ever called the police, he would tell them I was unstable.
That he had emails.
That he had talked to our doctor already — our family doctor — and that the doctor would back him up."
Torres didn't react.
She wrote it down.
"He said nobody would believe me over him.
That he made more money, that he had more friends, that I hadn't worked in four years." I paused.
"He said I would lose Noah."
Noah's hand found mine under the table.
"That's why you didn't call," Torres said.
It wasn't a question.
"That's why I didn't call."
She looked at Noah.
"And you called Detective Marsh three weeks ago.
On your own."
"I found her card," Noah said.
"In Mom's coat pocket.
The one she never wears anymore."
I stared at him.
"I didn't know you found that."
"I didn't tell you," he said.
"Because I didn't want you to throw it away."
I couldn't speak for a moment.
Torres cleared her throat gently.
"Detective Marsh is going to want to speak with you directly, Mrs.
Callahan.
Tonight if possible, or first thing tomorrow.
She's been building a file."
"A file," I repeated.
"Your neighbor — a Mrs.
Patricia Holt — contacted the department six weeks ago.
She reported hearing repeated disturbances from this address over the past year.
She gave a written statement."
I thought of Patricia.
Sixty-three years old.
Widowed.
She brought Noah cookies at Halloween and always waved from her porch.
I had no idea.
"She never said anything to me," I said.
"She was afraid of making things worse for you," Torres said.
"She said, and I'm quoting her statement here — 'I didn't want him to know she had told anyone.
I know how these men think.'"
Something cracked open in my chest.
From the living room, Ryan's voice again — lower now, tighter.
"I'm telling you, this is a misunderstanding.
Call my brother.
He'll explain everything."
Then Delgado: "Sir, I need you to put your hands behind your back."
A pause.
Then Ryan: "You're making a mistake."
Then the sound of handcuffs.
Noah looked toward the doorway.
His grip on my hand tightened.
"Mom," he said quietly.
"Is he going to come back?"
I looked at Torres.
She met my eyes.
"Not tonight," she said.
"And we're going to do everything we can to make sure the nights after that are safe too."
Noah exhaled.
A long, slow breath, like he had been holding it for weeks.
Maybe he had.
I put my arm around him and pulled him close.
He leaned into me and didn't say anything else.
Through the kitchen window, I saw the red and blue lights sweep across the backyard fence, then go still.
Then Torres's radio crackled.
She listened, then looked at me.
"Mrs.
Callahan — Ryan is asking to speak with you before they take him in.
You are under no obligation to agree."
I thought about every time I had said yes when I meant no.
"Tell him no," I said.
Torres nodded and raised her radio.
May you like
In the hallway, I heard Ryan's voice one more time — not words, just the sound of it, the familiar shape of his anger wrapped in something new.
Something that sounded almost like panic.
