There was also a card.
Your room is ready.
Everything else can wait until you are.
That was all.
I sat in my mother’s rocking chair and cried while Wren slept beneath the paper birds.
Back at our house, Roland returned with Beverly and Faye behind him.
He found my note.
Beverly read it over his shoulder.
“Well,” she said. “That’s dramatic.”
Roland ignored her.
He opened his contacts and found a number I had given him years earlier for emergencies.
Simone’s Father.
He called.
A man answered.
“Caldwell residence.”
Roland froze.
“Caldwell?”
“Yes, sir. This is Gregory.”
“I’m looking for Simone Tran.”
“Miss Caldwell and her daughter are resting. Mr. Caldwell has asked that they not be disturbed tonight.”
Derek, Faye’s husband, searched the name online.
Then he held up his phone.
“Roland… Malcolm Caldwell? Caldwell Freight?”
A photograph showed my father standing outside the downtown headquarters.
