Chapter 6: The Voice Through the Fence
On Saturday afternoon, I was sorting damaged tools in the garage when Noah began crying next door.
I could hear his voice through the open window above Valerie’s patio.
“I didn’t tell him anything.”
Valerie answered in a tone sharp enough to carry across the fence.
“You told him about the car.”
“I told him because he helped me.”
“You should never have gone near the street.”
A man’s voice interrupted them.
“Lower your voice, Valerie.”
I moved toward the garage door, not to listen more closely but because the words sounded wrong.
The man spoke again.
“He can’t connect the plate if the footage disappears.”
Valerie said something too softly to hear.
Then the man replied with words that made my stomach tighten.
“The boy is the problem if he starts remembering.”
I walked into the yard and called Noah’s name.
The voices stopped instantly.
Valerie appeared beside the fence with a man in a charcoal jacket.
He was in his forties, with a broad face and a white scar beneath his chin.
“Can I help you?” he asked.
I told him I had heard a child upset and wanted to make sure everyone was all right.
Valerie said the family was discussing homework.
Noah appeared behind her and shook his head almost imperceptibly.
The man rested a hand on his shoulder.
“Everything’s fine,” he said.
Noah flinched.
I recognized the movement because I had seen it in frightened children before.
I asked the man his name.
“Family friend,” he answered.
Then he led Noah back inside.
I wrote down the time and everything I could remember without adding conclusions.
That night, I decided to visit the grocery store manager again.
