Chapter 2 - THE WOMAN WHO KNEW HIS MOTHER'S SONG
The first thing I noticed was that Emma wasn't trying to hurt my son.
She was trying to keep him from looking at the window.
At 3:17 A.M., Noah lay trembling beneath his blue blanket, his eyes wide with terror. Emma had climbed onto the mattress beside him, wrapping one arm around his shoulders while holding her other hand over the small silver bracelet on his wrist.
Then Noah screamed.
"Mommy said don't let him see!"
My hand froze around the gun in my desk drawer.
For fourteen months, my son had barely mentioned his mother.
Now he was screaming about someone watching him.
Emma pulled him against her chest.
"You're here, Noah. You're in your room. Feel my hand?"
He nodded frantically.
"Tell me five things you can see."
"The lamp. My dinosaur. Your hair."
"Good. Two more."
"The door."
His voice broke.
"The man."
I was already moving.
I reached Noah's bedroom in less than thirty seconds, with Dominic Shaw following behind me.
Emma was still sitting beside my son when I threw open the door.
"Get away from him."
She looked up.
"Lower your voice."
I stared at her.
Nobody gave me orders in my own house.
"Move away from my son."
Noah clutched her sleeve.
"Daddy, don't."
Those three words stopped me more effectively than any weapon.
Emma carefully loosened her embrace.
"He had a night terror," she explained. "I heard him calling from the hallway."
"Then why were you in his bed?"
"Because he asked me to hold him."
I turned toward Noah.
"Is that true?"
He nodded.
I wanted to believe him.
But I had buried my wife because I'd trusted the wrong people.
Trust was no longer something I could afford.
"Dominic," I said, "check every entrance."
Emma's expression changed.
"Not every entrance."
I looked back at her.
"What?"
She glanced at Noah.
"Ask him about the window."
My son began shaking again.
"Please don't make me."
I approached his bed and knelt beside him.
"Buddy, nobody's angry with you."
He looked at the floor.
"Mommy said if the lights blinked, I should close my eyes."
A cold sensation traveled down my spine.
"What lights?"
"The little red ones."
Emma reached toward the windowsill.
I caught her wrist.
"Don't touch anything."
She didn't struggle.
"Then look behind the wooden horse."
Caroline had bought that painted wooden horse at a Christmas market when Noah was four. It stood beside the window because he insisted it protected him from monsters.
I moved it aside.
A tiny red light blinked from beneath the window frame.
Once.
Twice.
Then it went dark.
Dominic stepped forward.
"That's impossible."
I looked at him.
"Explain."
"That room was swept yesterday."
Emma's voice was quiet.
"Then someone installed it afterward."
I pulled the wooden horse away completely.
Beneath the frame was a black device smaller than a quarter.
A listening device.
Not one of ours.
Dominic reached for his radio.
"Lock down the property."
"No," Emma said sharply.
Both of us turned.
She looked directly at me.
"If whoever planted that is listening, they'll know you've found it. Don't give them a reason to panic."
I hated that she was right.
I hated even more that she seemed prepared for this possibility.
"How did you know?"
Emma didn't answer immediately.
Noah was watching us.
She brushed his hair away from his forehead.
"Can someone take him to another room?"
"No," Noah whispered.
I touched his shoulder.
"I'm staying right here."
Emma looked at me for a long moment.
Then she asked, "Did Caroline ever tell you about the lighthouse game?"
My chest tightened.
"What lighthouse game?"
Noah spoke before I could question her further.
"Mommy made it up."
He pointed toward the night-light beside his bed.
"Two blinks means hide. Three means get Daddy."
I stared at him.
Caroline had never mentioned any such game.
"Why would Mommy teach you that?"
Noah's eyes filled.
"Because of the bad man."
Dominic shifted beside me.
I noticed it.
Emma noticed it too.
But Noah was already crying.
"She said it was pretend," he whispered. "But she was scared."
For fourteen months, I'd believed my wife died without knowing anyone intended to kill her.
Now I was beginning to wonder whether she'd known exactly what was coming.
I turned to Emma.
"Outside. Now."
She tucked Noah's blanket around him.
"I'll be right back."
He grabbed her hand.
"Promise?"
"I promise."
In the hallway, I closed the door.
"Tell me who you really are."
Emma folded her arms.
"I'm the woman you hired to care for your son."
"That's not enough."
"It should be."
I stepped closer.
"How do you know about Caroline's lighthouse game?"
Her face tightened.
"Because I've seen what happens when children aren't believed."
"That's not an answer."
"No," she said. "It's the reason I took this job."
Dominic approached us.
"Vincent, security found no breach."
"Then find whoever planted that device."
"We're working on it."
Emma glanced toward him.
"What frequency did your team detect?"
Dominic frowned.
"Excuse me?"
"The device. Was it transmitting continuously or recording locally?"
"That's a security matter."
"It became a child's safety matter when someone put it beside his bed."
I raised my hand.
"Enough."
Emma turned toward me.
"I need you to understand something. Noah isn't simply afraid of the explosion. He's afraid of something he remembers."
"He was eight months younger than seven when it happened," I said. "He's been through enough."
"He was six," Emma replied gently. "And being six doesn't mean he couldn't recognize danger."
Her words struck harder than I expected.
I'd spent fourteen months surrounding Noah with specialists who explained trauma.
But I'd rarely asked him what he remembered.
Because I was afraid of the answer.
Emma reached into her battered leather bag.
Dominic immediately moved forward.
"Hands where I can see them."
She stopped.
Then slowly withdrew a folded piece of paper.
It was a child's drawing.
A yellow house.
A black car.
Three stick figures.
And a fourth figure standing near the driver's door.
My stomach twisted.
"Where did you get that?"
"Noah drew it yesterday."
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"Because he asked me not to."
I studied the fourth figure.
The man had a square black object in his hand.
Beside him, Noah had written one word.
Click.
I looked toward my son's bedroom.
"Did he tell you who that is?"
Emma hesitated.
"Not directly."
"Then what did he say?"
"He said the man smelled like the garage."
Dominic went still.
I looked at him.
My security chief had supervised the garage for eleven years.
He was practically family.
Before I could speak, Noah called from his bedroom.
"Daddy?"
I opened the door.
My son was sitting upright, clutching his silver bracelet.
"Mommy gave me a secret," he whispered.
I approached him.
"What secret?"
He held out his wrist.
The bracelet was engraved with a tiny lighthouse.
I'd never noticed the engraving before.
Noah turned it over.
"She said I could show you when the bad man came back."
My throat tightened.
"Buddy, what bad man?"
Noah looked past my shoulder.
Straight at Dominic.
May you like
Then he whispered five words that changed everything.
"He's standing behind you, Daddy."
