I hung up. My heart was pounding so hard I could feel it in my throat. The garden around me suddenly felt airless. The laughter sounded far away, like something happening in another room.
I walked across the lawn, forcing a calm expression onto my face. Sophie was sitting on the grass, grinning, while Matthew finished some tale about a dragon.
“Sophie, sweetheart,” I called, trying to sound cheerful. “We have to go home now. Daddy has an emergency.”
Her smile faded. “But Dad, the party isn’t over. Uncle Matthew hasn’t finished the story.”
Matthew looked up at me, smiling. “What’s up, brother? Stay a little longer. Everyone’s having fun.”
I swallowed hard. “No, we really have to go. The hospital called. Emergency surgery.” The lie came out smoothly, because I needed it to.
My brother shrugged, still smiling. “All right. Be careful. See you next time, Sophie.”
I took Sophie’s hand and pulled her up gently. She trotted after me, confused, looking back at the party. At my parents’ table, I told my father work had called. He barely looked concerned. My mother hugged Sophie goodbye. Behind us, the music kept playing, and the celebration carried on as though nothing had changed.
But everything had changed.
In the car, Sophie sat in the back seat with her seat belt on, her little face pressed near the window. “Dad, why are we leaving so early? Uncle Matthew was telling a story about a flying dragon. I wanted to hear the end.”
“Daddy has something urgent, sweetheart,” I said, forcing a smile into the rearview mirror. “Tomorrow, Daddy will tell you a story.”
The road through Maplewood Heights was quiet that night, just pale yellow streetlights and rows of dark trees. Half of me believed Laura. The other half refused. Matthew was my brother. We had shared a bedroom as boys, played ball in our parents’ yard, defended each other at school. How could there be something serious involving him?
But Laura’s voice stayed with me like a warning I couldn’t shake.
At home, I put Sophie to bed and waited. The apartment was dark except for a spill of light from the kitchen. I made black coffee I didn’t need and watched the clock tick.
At eight forty-five, there was a knock at the door, light but firm. I opened it, and Laura stood in the hallway light with a thick gray file in her hands.
No smile. No small talk. She walked straight to the dining table and sat down, placing the folder between us like a bomb that hadn’t gone off yet.
“What is this?” I asked.
She didn’t touch it. “I’m handling a file related to a case of child sexual abuse. The accused is your brother, Matthew. And I’m worried about Sophie, because she’s so close to him. That’s why I called.”
It felt like ice water down my spine.
“Child… what? Laura, Matthew? My brother? That’s insane. There has to be a mistake.”
She shook her head and opened the file, sliding a few pages toward me. “No mistake, David. The file is from a victim, a fifteen-year-old female student at his school. She accused Matthew of approaching her, grooming her, and abusing her. There are statements, screenshots of messages. But the case is stalled, because the victim’s family suddenly withdrew the complaint. I suspect outside interference.”
The words blurred under the light, but what I managed to read made me physically ill. Matthew’s name, again and again, beside descriptions I could not finish.
“But Sophie,” I said. “She’s his niece.”
Laura looked me straight in the eyes, her voice softer now. “I know. That doesn’t mean we take chances. If this file is true, it would be very dangerous to leave Sophie alone with Matthew.”