Chapter 8: What My Brother Knew
Marcus called back forty minutes later.
I was sitting in my car in the station parking lot.
I had not moved.
"Hey," he said.
"Missed your call.
Everything okay?"
"When did you meet Gerald Foss?"
Silence.
"Daniel—"
"When did you meet him."
A longer silence.
I heard him exhale.
"About two and a half years ago," he said.
"I was going through a hard time.
Work stuff.
Someone recommended the group."
"Who recommended it?"
"I don't remember."
"Marcus."
"I genuinely don't remember.
It was a rough period.
I went a few times and then stopped."
"Did you tell him about me?
About Claire being sick?"
"I might have mentioned — Daniel, people talk in those groups.
That's the point of them.
I didn't think—"
"Did you tell him about the book?"
Nothing.
"Claire's book," I said.
"The one on her nightstand.
Did you tell Foss about it?"
"I don't know.
Maybe.
I was talking about Claire one session, about how much you were struggling, and I might have mentioned something she loved, something that—" He stopped.
"Daniel.
I didn't know.
I swear to you I had no idea what he was."
I believed him.
I didn't want to, but I did.
Marcus was careless, not cruel.
He had sat in a room with a man who knew how to listen, and he had talked about his grieving brother, and he had not known that every word was being catalogued.
"She told me to ask you," I said.
"Monica.
She told me to ask how you knew Foss."
"She's trying to create doubt," Marcus said immediately.
"She's trying to make you look at me instead of her.
That's what people like that do, Daniel.
They find the crack and they push."
He wasn't wrong.
"I need you to talk to Ramirez," I said.
"Everything you remember about those sessions.
Every name, every detail.
Whatever you told him about me."
"Of course.
Yes.
Whatever they need." His voice was tight.
"Daniel, I'm sorry.
I know that doesn't fix anything.
But I need you to know I would never—"
"I know," I said.
"Call Ramirez today."
I hung up and sat for another moment.
Then I drove home.
Carol was still there.
Emma was asleep on the couch with Bunny, one arm thrown over the stuffed rabbit's ears.
Carol was in the kitchen.
She set a mug of tea in front of me without being asked.
"How bad?" she said.
"It goes deeper than I thought." I wrapped my hands around the mug.
"Foss used the grief group as a pipeline.
Marcus was in the group before me.
He didn't know what Foss was, but he talked about our family.
That's how Monica knew enough to approach me."
Carol sat down across from me.
"Is Marcus in trouble?"
"No.
He was used, same as I was." I looked at the steam rising from the mug.
"Ramirez thinks there are more households.
More families.
Foss has been running this for years."
Carol was quiet for a moment.
"That little girl," she said.
"Paul Whitfield's daughter."
"Sophie," I said.
Ramirez had told me her name that afternoon.
"Her name is Sophie.
She's five."
Carol looked at the table.
Then at me.
"What happens to her?"
"She has no surviving family that they've found so far.
She's in a foster placement." I set down the mug.
"Ramirez said the foster family is good.
But she's alone."
Neither of us said anything for a while.
In the living room, Emma shifted in her sleep and pulled Bunny closer.
Carol looked at me with an expression I recognized.
She had worn it the day I called her from the hospital to tell her Claire was gone.
The same steadiness.
The same refusal to look away from hard things.
"Daniel," she said quietly.
"What are you thinking?"
I looked at my daughter sleeping on the couch.
"I'm thinking," I said, "that Emma has been asking for a friend for six months."
Carol didn't respond immediately.
She looked at Emma.
Then back at me.
"That's a very big thing," she said.
"I know."
"You'd need to talk to a social worker.
There's a process."
"I know."
"And Emma would need to be ready."
"I know all of that." I looked at Carol.
"I'm not saying tomorrow.
I'm saying I'm thinking about it."
Carol picked up her own mug.
She looked at it for a moment.
"Claire would have thought about it too," she said.
May you like
I didn't answer.
I didn't need to.
