Chapter 5: What Ryan's Brother Brought With Him
Marcus Callahan arrived at 2:40 in the morning.
I knew his truck by the sound of it — same model as Ryan's, bought the same year, same dark color.
The brothers had done everything together until they hadn't.
I was still at the kitchen table when Torres came back in.
"His brother is outside.
He's asking to come in."
"Is Ryan still here?"
"They've transported him.
Marcus arrived after."
I thought about Marcus.
Forty-one years old.
Ryan's younger brother by three years.
He had been at our wedding.
He had held Noah as a newborn.
He had also, twice, driven Ryan home from a bar and said nothing to me about what he had seen.
"Let him in," I said.
Marcus came through the front door with his hands in his jacket pockets and his eyes moving fast around the room — taking in the officers, the notepad on the table, Noah asleep on the couch with a blanket Torres had found in the hall closet.
He looked at my wrist.
The bruising had come up fully now, dark against my skin.
He looked away.
"Emily," he said.
"I'm sorry."
"Are you."
He sat down across from me without being invited.
Torres stayed in the doorway.
"I didn't know it was this bad," he said.
"Yes you did."
He was quiet.
"You drove him home from Donovan's in March," I said.
"He told me.
He said you saw his hand and you didn't ask."
Marcus rubbed the back of his neck.
"I thought — I told myself it was —"
"Don't," I said.
"Please don't tell me what you told yourself."
He stopped.
"I need to know why you're here," I said.
"At three in the morning.
Because if Ryan called you, I need to know what he asked you to do."
Marcus reached into his jacket pocket.
He set a folded envelope on the table between us.
I didn't touch it.
"He texted me before they took his phone," Marcus said.
"He told me to bring this to you.
He said you'd understand what it meant."
Torres stepped forward.
"Mrs.
Callahan, you don't have to open that."
"What is it?" I asked Marcus directly.
He met my eyes.
"I don't know.
I didn't open it.
But Emily — I know my brother.
And whatever is in there, he thinks it changes something."
I looked at the envelope.
My name was written on the front in Ryan's handwriting.
Not Emily.
Not Em.
My full name.
Both names.
He only wrote my full name when he wanted me to feel small.
I picked it up.
Inside was a single sheet of paper.
A printed document.
I read the first line and felt the blood leave my face.
It was a letter from a family court attorney.
May you like
Dated four months ago.
Ryan had already filed for sole custody of Noah.
