“At her father’s residence. She told responding officers that she did not witness the incident.”
“Why hasn’t she come here?”
“That is something you should ask her.”
I had tried. Eight missed calls had become twelve. Every attempt went directly to voicemail.
Detective Ortiz handed me her card.
“Mr. Carter, I understand that your former employment may give you access to people and information most parents do not have. I’m asking you not to conduct your own investigation.”
“I’m not planning to interfere.”
“That isn’t the same as saying you won’t investigate.”
Before I could answer, she added, “Your son needs his father more than he needs your former profession.”
She walked away, leaving me with a warning that sounded painfully similar to Daniel’s.
Jake slept for the next two hours.
I sat beside him and watched evening settle across the hospital windows. Downtown Nashville became a scattering of lights beneath a violet sky. Machines hummed. Shoes squeaked in the corridor. Someone laughed softly at the nurses’ station, and the ordinary sound made me ache for the life we had been living that morning.
