“She will be.”
Zoe nodded as though that answered everything.
Marcus carried her upstairs.
He removed the cardboard moon headband and placed it on the dresser.
Then helped her change into pajamas.
When he tucked her in, Zoe touched his face.
“You can watch the video tomorrow.”
“I will.”
“You have to watch the whole thing.”
“I will.”
“I added something.”
“What?”
“You’ll see.”
Marcus smiled.
“Okay.”
She closed her eyes.
Marcus spread an extra quilt on the floor.
He locked his bedroom door across the hall.
Then slept beside Zoe’s bed.
Or tried.
At 5:58 the next morning, he woke to movement downstairs.
Gray daylight filled the hallway.
Marcus sat up instantly.
Zoe remained asleep.
He opened her door quietly.
Eleanor was sitting on the couch.
Her hair was tangled.
Mascara darkened the skin beneath her eyes.
She stared down at the oversized T-shirt covering her knees.
Her face changed as memory failed to arrive.
Marcus saw panic take over in real time.
Eleanor grabbed her phone.
The battery showed eighty-seven percent.
She unlocked it with shaking hands.
Then dialed.
Marcus stayed in the hallway.
He did not want to surprise her.
A woman answered.
“Rachel?”
Eleanor’s voice broke.
Marcus froze.
Rachel Whitmore was Eleanor’s older sister.
A partner at a law firm in Boston.
“Rachel, I need you to listen.”
Pause.
“I don’t know where I am.”
Another pause.
“I woke up in a man’s house.”
Marcus’s stomach dropped.
Eleanor looked around.
“I’m wearing his clothes.”
Rachel’s voice became loud enough that Marcus could hear only fragments.
Who?
Where?
Are you safe?
Call police.
Eleanor began crying.
“I don’t remember anything after the party.”
Marcus leaned against the wall.
“I don’t remember getting here.”
Rachel said something.
Eleanor looked toward the hallway.
“It’s one of my employees.”
Pause.
“Marcus Reed.”
Another pause.
Then Rachel said something Marcus heard clearly.
“A man?”
Eleanor whispered, “Yes.”
Rachel’s next sentence was even clearer.
“Stay away from him.”
Marcus felt cold.
Eleanor closed her eyes.
“I don’t know if anything happened.”
Rachel’s voice sharpened.
“You woke up in a Black man’s house wearing his clothes and you don’t remember getting there?”
Marcus shut his eyes.
There it was.
Not just a man.
Not just employee.
Black man.
Three details converted into a story before anyone asked for another fact.
Rachel continued.
“Call 911.”
Eleanor’s breathing became faster.
“I don’t know.”
“You don’t need to know yet.”
“Rachel—”