Chapter 2
I took Elliot inside before asking another question.
That disappointed Agatha.
Good.
She wanted the confrontation to remain public because public anger was useful to whatever argument she had prepared.
My son was not going to remain part of it.
The estate doctor examined him in the downstairs family room while I sat close enough for Elliot to keep one hand around my finger.
Mild dehydration.
A red mark around the ankle.
Fear.
Nothing worse.
That should have relieved me.
It did.
It also made me more dangerous.
“How long?” I asked.
Elliot looked at the doctor.
Then me.
“How long were you outside?”
He held up three fingers.
Three minutes?
Three hours?
He was three. Time meant almost nothing.
I tried differently.
“Was the sun high when Aunt Agatha put you there?”
He nodded.
“Did you eat lunch after?”
He shook his head.
My jaw tightened.
The party began after lunch.
He had been there before guests arrived.
That meant planning.
“Who put the chain on?”
Elliot whispered:
“Uncle Julian.”
Of course.
“And Agatha?”
“She said stay.”
“What happened when you asked for water?”
His eyes filled again.
“She said bad boys wait.”
I closed my eyes for half a second.
Then he added:
“I’m not bad.”
I opened them.
“No.”
His fingers tightened around mine.
“You are not.”
The doctor finished checking him and stepped away.
Elliot looked toward the door.
“Can I go play?”
Not yet.
But the question mattered.
Children return toward normal faster than adults deserve.
I kissed the top of his head.
“After you rest.”
He nodded.
Then whispered:
“Daddy?”
“Yes?”
“Uncle Julian said if you get mad, Grandma wins.”
Everything inside me stopped.
I looked at him.
“What did he say?”
Elliot repeated it as best he could.
“If Daddy gets mad, Grandma wins.”
The room went quiet.
There it was.
Not merely punishment.
Provocation.
They had told a three-year-old enough of the plan that he remembered its simplest rule.
Make me angry.
May you like
Let the right people see it.
Then Agatha wins.
