Chapter 4
I stared at the screen.
THEY’RE GONE.
My knees buckled.
Ryan caught my arm.
“Emily? What’s wrong?”
I looked up at him.
His face was the picture of innocence.
Concerned husband.
Loving father.
But I saw the tiny flicker in his eyes.
The satisfaction.
He knew.
“What did you do?” My voice was barely a whisper.
“What are you talking about?”
“Sarah went to the house. Noah and your mom aren’t there. Where are they, Ryan?”
He let go of my arm and sighed.
“Okay, look. I didn’t want to tell you this way, but Linda’s flight back to Tennessee leaves in an hour. She offered to take Noah with her for a week. Just a visit. I was going to tell you after counseling, but you got so upset—”
“A week?” I screamed. “You were going to send our son across the country without asking me?”
“It’s just a visit, Emily! Kids visit their grandparents all the time! You’re acting like I’m kidnapping him!”
“Because that’s exactly what this is! After last night, after the forged papers— you think I believe this is just a visit?”
People were staring at us in the parking lot.
Ryan lowered his voice.
“Lower your voice. You’re making a scene.”
“I don’t care! Tell me the flight number. Right now.”
“No.”
“Tell me or I’m calling the police and reporting a kidnapping.”
Ryan’s face hardened.
“Go ahead. Call them. I have the custody paper with your signature on it, Emily. The one you’re so upset about? I made three copies. The police will look at it and see that you agreed. And then they’ll look at how drunk you were last night— my neighbor saw you stumble up the driveway— and they’ll wonder which one of us is the danger to our son.”
I froze.
The neighbor.
Of course.
He’d planned that too.
“Give me the address of the airport,” I said.
“Atlanta International. Flight 482 to Nashville. Departure gate B17. But by the time you get there, they’ll already be on the plane.”
I ran to my car.
I didn’t even say goodbye.
I peeled out of the parking lot, tires screeching.
Atlanta was an hour away in good traffic.
It was now three-forty-five.
The flight left at four-forty-five.
I called Sarah.
She answered on the first ring.
“I’m on I-75 heading south,” I said. “Flight 482 to Nashville. Gate B17. Meet me there. Call Maria. Tell her what’s happening. Tell her we need an emergency custody order NOW.”
“I’m already behind you,” Sarah said. “I called Maria. She’s on it. She says she’ll call the airport and try to get them to flag the ticket. But Emily— Ryan’s right. If they have that forged paper, the airline might let them board.”
“Then I’ll get there before they do.”
I drove as fast as I could without getting pulled over.
My hands were shaking so bad I could barely hold the wheel.
Every minute that passed felt like an hour.
I called Noah’s phone.
It went straight to voicemail.
I called Linda, Ryan’s mom.
No answer.
I called Ryan.
He didn’t pick up either.
At four-twenty, I pulled into the airport parking garage.
I ran into the terminal.
Sarah was already there, talking to a uniformed police officer.
She waved me over.
“This is my sister,” she told him. “Her nine-year-old son is being taken to Nashville against her will. Her husband forged her signature on custody papers.”
The officer’s name tag read DAVIS.
He looked at me sympathetically.
“Ma’am, I need to see some ID. And do you have a copy of this forged document?”
I pulled the paper out of my purse and handed it to him, along with my driver’s license.
“Look at the signature,” I said. “It’s not mine. I can prove it. But right now, my son is about to get on that plane. Can you stop them?”
Officer Davis studied the paper.
“Flight 482 to Nashville. Let’s go.”
We ran toward security.
But the line was long.
Hundreds of people.
“We’ll never get through in time,” Sarah said.
Officer Davis flashed his badge at the TSA agent.
“Emergency. These two are with me.”
We were waved through.
We ran to gate B17.
I skidded to a stop.
The gate was empty.
The plane was gone.
The agent at the counter looked up.
“Can I help you?”
“Flight 482 to Nashville,” I gasped. “Did it leave?”
“Just pushed back two minutes ago. I’m sorry.”
I grabbed the counter to keep from falling.
Two minutes.
I was two minutes too late.
Officer Davis put a hand on my shoulder.
“Ma’am, I’m sorry. But we can file a report. And if your lawyer can get that custody order—”
“It doesn’t matter!” I screamed. “He’s gone! He’s on that plane and my husband planned every second of it!”
Sarah held me while I cried.
The agent at the counter looked uncomfortable.
“Wait,” she said. “The passenger manifest. Let me check something.”
She typed on her computer.
“Linda Carter and Noah Carter. Confirmed. But… hold on. There’s a note here. The return flight was just changed. From next Wednesday to open-ended.”
I looked up.
“Open-ended?”
“That means they don’t have a scheduled return date. Usually means they’re planning to stay a while.”
Of course.
It was never a week.
It was forever.
Ryan had won.
Officer Davis helped us file an official police report.
He gave me his card and told me to have my lawyer call him.
Sarah drove me home.
I couldn’t stop crying.
I kept seeing Noah’s face from this morning.
So small.
So trusting.
He’d gotten in that car with his grandmother thinking it was just a visit.
He had no idea his own father had just sold him out.
When we pulled up to the house, Ryan’s car was in the driveway.
The lights were on.
I got out of the car.
I didn’t feel sad anymore.
I felt something colder.
Harder.
Rage.
I walked into the house.
Ryan was sitting on the couch, drinking a beer.
He looked up when we walked in.
“Did you make it?” he asked calmly.
“You bastard,” I whispered.
“I’m sorry you missed them. But honestly, Emily? This is for the best. Noah needs structure. He needs stability. And right now, you can’t give him that.”
“I can’t give him that? You just kidnapped him!”
“I did what any father would do to protect his son from his mother’s drinking and neglect.”
Sarah stepped forward.
“You’re going to jail for this, Ryan. Forgery, kidnapping, fraud— whatever Maria can throw at you.”
Ryan smiled.
“Good luck with that. I have a signed custody agreement. Emily agreed to this. And I have witnesses who will testify to her drinking problem. By the time you’re done fighting, Noah will have been in Tennessee for six months. Judges don’t like to move kids once they’re settled. You’ll get visitation. Every other Christmas. Maybe.”
He took a sip of beer.
“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to call my mom and tell her the coast is clear.”
He stood up and started walking toward the stairs.
I looked around the living room.
On the coffee table was Noah’s favorite dinosaur.
The one he slept with every night.
He’d forgotten it.
And in that moment, something inside me broke.
I grabbed the heavy glass paperweight from the end table— the one Ryan’s boss had given him for ten years of service.
May you like
I walked up behind him.
He turned around just as I swung.
