Chapter 5 - CALEB’S BOX
Roman met Caleb properly three weeks after my rescue.
I almost canceled.
Caleb did not.
“I want to see if he’s actually scary.”
“He is.”
“Cool.”
Children are exhausting.
Roman came to our apartment.
No suit.
Still looked expensive.
Caleb opened the door.
“You're late.”
Roman checked his watch.
“Two minutes.”
“Late.”
“Caleb.”
Roman said:
“He’s correct.”
I hated how quickly they were forming an alliance.
Roman looked around.
Pullout couch.
Taped window.
Shoebox under Caleb’s bed visible through the open door.
He saw everything without making a face.
Good.
Then Caleb brought out the dented metal box.
“I have a question.”
Roman sat.
“Okay.”
“How much does one day cost?”
Roman frowned.
“One day of what?”
“Elise not working.”
My heart stopped.
“Caleb.”
He opened the box.
Money.
Coins.
Birthday cash.
Small bills.
“How much?”
Roman looked at me.
I couldn't speak.
“Why?” he asked.
Caleb shrugged like it was obvious.
“She never gets days off.”
My throat closed.
“I wanted to buy one.”
Silence.
Roman’s expression changed completely.
Caleb continued:
“I had three hundred and eighty-two dollars before Mrs. Adler used twenty for groceries when Elise disappeared.”
I started crying.
“Caleb.”
He looked panicked.
“What?”
I pulled him toward me.
“You cannot buy me rest.”
“I almost had enough.”
“No.”
Roman looked away.
For once, he understood this moment did not belong to him.
Later, after Caleb went to his room, Roman stood by the kitchen window.
“How many days off did you take last year?”
“I don't know.”
“Elise.”
“Six?”
He closed his eyes.
“Six?”
“Paid ones?”
“Yes.”
“Maybe four.”
He looked genuinely ill.
“This is not all because of you.”
“I know.”
“My debt—”
“I know.”
“Caleb's school—”
“I know.”
“My mother died when he was two.”
Roman looked at me.
“You raised him.”
“Yes.”
“And I never asked.”
“No.”
He leaned against the counter.
“My mother died when I was twelve.”
I knew.
Everyone in Baltimore knew part of that story.
Car bomb outside a hotel.
Roman and his mother in the back seat.
He survived.
She did not.
The nightmare.
Mom, get down.
“That's what you were dreaming about.”
“Yes.”
Rain struck the taped window.
Roman looked toward it.
“People kept telling me survival meant being harder to surprise next time.”
He laughed without humor.
“So I built layers.”
Security.
Assistants.
Executives.
Information.
“Marcus became one.”
“Yes.”
“And Evelyn.”
“Yes.”
I looked toward Caleb’s room.
“Layers don't help if you stop seeing through them.”
Roman nodded.
Then his phone rang.
Dante.
Roman answered.
His expression changed.
“What?”
A pause.
“When?”
He looked at me.
“Evelyn was spotted in Baltimore.”
My skin went cold.
“Where?”
Roman ended the call.
May you like
“At Marcus Vale’s house.”
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