Chapter 1 - Dad, She Won’t Wake Up
The phone call that destroyed Rowan Mercer’s ordinary life lasted less than a minute.
The first thing his six-year-old son said was not hello.
“Dad… Elsie won’t wake up.”
Rowan sat perfectly still.
Around him, twelve executives continued staring at a glowing presentation screen in a glass-walled conference room forty floors above downtown Nashville. Numbers moved across the screen. Someone was talking about projected revenue. Someone else was arguing about expansion costs.
Rowan heard none of it.
He pressed the phone harder against his ear.
“Micah?”
Static crackled.
Then came the sound Rowan would remember for the rest of his life: his son trying not to cry.
“We haven’t eaten in three days.”
Rowan shoved his chair backward so violently that it struck the wall.
Every face in the room turned toward him.
“Where’s your mother?”
“I don’t know.”
His blood went cold.
“Micah, listen carefully. Where are you?”
“At Mom’s house.”
Rowan was already moving.
He grabbed his keys from the conference table.
His business partner, Grant, stood. “Rowan, what happened?”
“My kids.”
That was all Rowan said.
He ran.
Three days earlier, his ex-wife Delaney had told him she was taking Micah and four-year-old Elsie to a cabin near Center Hill Lake.
She had complained about poor cell reception.
Rowan had believed her.
Why wouldn’t he?
Their divorce had been bitter at first, but the last eight months had seemed calmer. They had established routines. Rowan had stopped questioning every schedule change because he believed stability was better for the children.
Now his son was telling him they had been alone.
For three days.
The elevator seemed impossibly slow.
Rowan called Delaney.
Voicemail.
Again.
Voicemail.
Again.
Nothing.
The doors finally opened into the underground garage.
He ran toward his SUV.
“Stay on the phone, buddy.”
“I’m here.”
“Is Elsie breathing?”
A pause.
“I think.”
Rowan nearly dropped his keys.
“What do you mean, you think?”
“She makes little sounds sometimes.”
“Put your hand near her nose. Can you feel air?”
There was rustling.
Then silence.
Rowan started the engine.
“Micah?”
“I feel it.”
Rowan closed his eyes for half a second.
“Good. You’re doing great.”
“I tried giving her crackers.”
“You did?”
“She wouldn’t eat them.”
His voice broke.
“I put water on her lips like you did when I was sick.”
Rowan gripped the steering wheel.
A six-year-old should have been asking for cartoons.
A six-year-old should have been complaining about vegetables.
His son had spent three days learning how to keep his little sister alive.
“You did exactly right,” Rowan said. “I’m coming.”
“Promise?”
The word nearly destroyed him.
“I promise.”
He drove faster than he ever had.
When he reached Delaney’s East Nashville rental, the first thing he noticed was the silence.
No bicycles.
No television.
No music.
The curtains were closed.
He ran to the porch.
“Micah!”
He pounded the door.
“It’s Dad!”
No answer.
Then Rowan tried the handle.
Unlocked.
The smell hit him first.
Stale air.
Old food.
Something sour.
“Micah?”
A tiny figure appeared beyond the living room doorway.
Rowan stopped breathing.
His son looked smaller than he remembered.
Micah’s blond hair was tangled. His mint-green sweater was dirty. His cheeks were pale beneath streaks of dried tears.
For one terrible second, neither moved.
Then Micah whispered, “I thought you weren’t coming.”
Rowan crossed the room and dropped to his knees.
He pulled his son against him.
“I’m here.”
Micah clung to him.
“Dad…”
“I’m here.”
“I tried.”
“I know.”
“I really tried.”
Rowan kissed the top of his head.
“You did everything right.”
Then he saw Elsie.
She lay beneath a thin blanket near the sofa.
Rowan moved toward her.
Her cheeks were bright red.
He touched her forehead.
Scorching.
“Elsie?”
No response.
He lifted her carefully.
Her head fell against his shoulder.
Rowan’s fear became something primal.
“We’re going to the hospital.”
Micah stood unsteadily.
“Is she dying?”
“No.”
Rowan answered too quickly.
He looked directly into his son’s frightened eyes.
“The doctors are going to help her.”
He carried Elsie toward the door, then stopped when something in the kitchen caught his attention.
An empty cereal box.
Rowan looked toward the counter.
Crumbs.
Dirty cups.
A child’s plastic bowl.
He opened the refrigerator.
Almost nothing.
Ketchup.
A jar of mustard.
Half a bottle of water.
That was it.
He stared.
Three days.
His children had been here for three days.
“Micah.”
The boy appeared behind him.
“What have you been eating?”
Micah pointed toward a cabinet.
Rowan opened it.
Crackers.
The package was empty.
“What else?”
“Cereal.”
“With milk?”
Micah shook his head.
“Elsie cried because there wasn’t milk.”
Rowan felt rage rise inside him, but he forced it down.
Not now.
He carried Elsie outside and secured her in the backseat.
Micah climbed beside her.
As Rowan drove toward Vanderbilt Children’s Hospital, he repeatedly checked the rearview mirror.
Micah kept one hand on his sister.
“Dad?”
“Yes?”
“Is Mom going to be mad?”
Rowan’s jaw tightened.
“No.”
“But she said we weren’t supposed to call you.”
Everything inside Rowan went still.
“What?”
Micah stared at the floor.
“She said not to bother you.”
“When?”
“Before she left.”
Rowan forced himself to keep driving.
“Where did she say she was going?”
“She didn’t.”
The hospital entrance appeared ahead.
Rowan pulled into emergency receiving.
Nurses rushed toward them.
Within seconds, Elsie was on a stretcher.
“What happened?” a nurse asked.
“High fever. Possibly dehydrated. I don’t know how long.”
“How long has she been sick?”
Rowan looked at Micah.
“Buddy?”
“Yesterday morning.”
The nurse’s expression changed.
“She hasn’t eaten?”
Micah shook his head.
The doors opened.
Elsie disappeared inside.
Rowan tried following.
A nurse stopped him.
“We need room.”
“That’s my daughter.”
“I understand. Give us two minutes.”
Micah grabbed Rowan’s hand.
Rowan looked down.
His son was trembling.
So Rowan knelt.
“Look at me.”
Micah did.
“You saved your sister.”
“I did?”
“You called me.”
Micah nodded.
“That was the bravest thing you could have done.”
Micah suddenly began sobbing.
Not quietly this time.
Everything he had been holding inside finally broke.
Rowan wrapped both arms around him.
For several minutes, they remained that way on the emergency-room floor.
Then a doctor approached.
“Mr. Mercer?”
Rowan stood immediately.
“How is she?”
“She’s very dehydrated. Her fever is dangerously high, but she’s responding to treatment.”
Rowan exhaled.
“Is she going to be okay?”
“We’re optimistic.”
Optimistic.
It was the first hopeful word Rowan had heard all afternoon.
Then the doctor’s expression became serious.
“There’s something else.”
Rowan felt his stomach tighten.
“What?”
“We need to examine both children thoroughly.”
“Why?”
The doctor glanced toward Micah.
Then back at Rowan.
“Because what you’ve described raises concerns beyond an illness.”
Rowan understood.
Neglect.
He swallowed.
“Do whatever you need.”
His phone rang.
Delaney.
Rowan stared at the screen.
After three days of silence, she was calling now.
He answered.
“Where are you?”
Silence.
Then Delaney whispered, “Rowan?”
“Where are you?”
“You have the kids?”
His anger sharpened.
“Yes.”
“Oh, thank God.”
Rowan stepped away from Micah.
“You left them alone.”
“It isn’t what you think.”
“Three days, Delaney.”
“I know.”
“No food.”
“I know.”
“Elsie is in the hospital.”
A sharp breath came through the phone.
“What?”
“She was unconscious.”
“Oh God.”
“Where are you?”
Delaney began crying.
“Rowan, listen to me.”
“No. You listen to me. Tell me where you are.”
“I can’t.”
“You can.”
“I can’t tell you over the phone.”
His anger briefly gave way to confusion.
“Why?”
Another silence.
Then Delaney said something he did not expect.
“Because someone might be listening.”
Rowan looked around the hospital corridor.
“What are you talking about?”
“I didn’t abandon them.”
“You left two children alone for three days.”
“I was supposed to be gone twenty minutes.”
Rowan froze.
“What?”
“I went to meet someone.”
“Who?”
Delaney breathed shakily.
“Someone who knew what happened to the money.”
Rowan frowned.
“What money?”
“The money missing from your company.”
His stomach dropped.
Six weeks earlier, Mercer Development had discovered nearly $2.4 million missing from an investment account.
Only four senior employees knew.
Delaney should not have known anything.
“How do you know about that?”
“I found something.”
“What?”
“Rowan…”
Her voice suddenly changed.
Fear.
“Someone’s here.”
“Delaney?”
“I have to go.”
“Where are you?”
“Don’t trust—”
The line died.
Rowan stared at the phone.
“Delaney?”
Nothing.
He called back.
Straight to voicemail.
A police officer entered the corridor moments later.
“Mr. Mercer?”
Rowan turned.
“Yes.”
“I’m Officer Bennett. The hospital contacted us regarding your children.”
Rowan nodded.
“My ex-wife just called.”
“You know where she is?”
“No.”
“Has she explained her absence?”
Rowan hesitated.
“She said she didn’t leave them intentionally.”
The officer took out a notebook.
“What exactly did she say?”
Rowan repeated the conversation.
When he mentioned the missing corporate money, Bennett stopped writing.
“Two point four million?”
“Yes.”
“Does your ex-wife have any connection to your company?”
“She used to.”
“What did she do?”
“Financial compliance.”
Bennett looked up.
“When?”
“Before our divorce.”
Another officer approached.
He whispered something to Bennett.
Bennett’s expression hardened.
“What?”
The officer glanced toward Micah.
“We may want to discuss this privately.”
Rowan’s heart started pounding.
“Discuss what?”
Bennett gestured down the corridor.
Rowan followed.
Once they were far enough from Micah, Bennett spoke.
“We located Ms. Mercer’s vehicle.”
“Where?”
“About twelve miles outside Nashville.”
“Was she inside?”
“No.”
“Then where is she?”
“We don’t know.”
Rowan rubbed his forehead.
“Was there anything in the car?”
Bennett hesitated.
“The driver’s window was broken.”
May you like
Rowan stared at him.
“And there was blood on the front seat.”
