Another night of sleeping like shit. I rolled out of bed, having barely slept and walked over to look out the window of the penthouse.
Across the water of Boston's Inner Harbor, I could see the steeple of the North Church glowing white against the still dark sky. I stretched and that's when I remembered that something had woken me from my fitful sleep. I stood frozen, waiting for it to come back to me, but the only sound was the soft shushing of the air conditioning.
Confused, I walked over and checked my phone. No text messages. A shitload of emails, of course, most of them from Miles with urgent all-caps subject lines like, "TODAY'S MEETING AGENDA" and "BEFORE YOU FREAK OUT, READ THIS." But nothing that would have made me snap out of sleep.
But there it was again. That twisting sensation of wrongness in my gut. Over the years I'd learned to trust it. It had gotten me out of more scrapes than I could count. That gut feeling of something's wrong. Run.
Thing was, I couldn't figure out what that something was.
Slightly panicked now, I scrolled over and checked my missed calls. There was nothing there that would explain this roiling sickness in my belly.
"Fucking hell," I swore and grabbed yesterday's suit pants from off the back of the chair. "The hell is going on?"
It was still early, so I should have just ordered room service, but the strange feeling was making me too antsy to sit in my room alone and wait for the day to start. I strode over to the elevator as I was yanking my shirt on, determined to check in with the concierge in person and see if I could read from her face what it was that was so wrong.
The elevator was express down to the ninth floor, where it dinged to a stop to let a bleary-eyed couple and their very fat baby on. "Mornin'" the father yawned. "Wait, is it morning yet?"
"Barely," I replied.
"Kid won't sleep," he explained with another yawn. "Woke up at two and has been awake ever since. "
"Huh," I said, with my usual disinterest. Then a thought occurred to me. "Maybe he's hungry."
"He ate a big dinner," his mother said.
"You should try some cheese," I heard myself saying. "When he gets up like that. The fat and protein, they'll help fill him up."
The father's bleary eyes widened. "Have we tried that?" he asked his wife.
She looked dumbfounded. "No, I don't think we have." She turned to me. "Hey thanks, I think that might be the first useful advice I've ever received from a stranger in an elevator."
I chuckled. Then I puffed out my cheeks to make the baby smile. He regarded me seriously and then very deliberately turned to grab a fistful of his mother's curls.
"Ow honey," his mother wailed. "Careful of Mama's hair."
I chuckled under my breath. That kid was just like Malcolm.
Malcolm.
The twisting in my belly spun tight, making me break out in a sweat along my hairline.
"Malcolm," I said aloud.
"What was that?" the father asked, turning with his eyes still closed.
"Nothing." The door dinged open and I was off and running, reaching the desk of the startled looking concierge in two seconds flat.
"Mr. Tellar," she cried. "Is everything okay?"
"I don't think so," I panted.
"Can I help you in any way?"
"Yes," I said. "I need you to get me a plane that'll put me as close as possible to Reckless Falls, New York. As fast as you can."
The charter plane was in the air in within twenty minutes of my arrival. My accountant was going to have a coronary when he saw what this gut feeling was costing me, but there was no way I could sit there in a meeting wondering what had happened.
And the thought of calling Charlie had my gut twisting further. I was still angry. Still spun around as Fletch said. There was too much that needed to be said and it shouldn't be said over the phone. I planned on saying all of it to her.
Just as soon as I knew for sure that everything was okay.
But when I turned off of the Main Street of Reckless Falls, I nearly came to a stop. Self-doubt twisted my stomach even further, What the hell was I doing? Acting like this. I have had no obligation to her, and she had no obligation to me. I had no right to be checking up on her like this, but that nagging feeling in the pit of my stomach twisted like a knife, spurring me to press down on the accelerator.
The short alleyway that led to her street was walled in on either side by brick buildings, so the corner to make the turn was almost blind. I looked both ways, carefully watching for any kid darting out in front of me, and they made the right turn.
And the knife in my belly twisted even further.
The front door to Charlie's house was half open and half shut, standing there open and inviting when any other time I'd come over Charlie's mother had tightly closed and locked.
But that wasn't the most disturbing. I swung the shitty rental car I'd hired at the last possible minute into the driveway and threw open the door with my heart pounding in my ears.
"Malcolm!" I yelled.
The little boy was sitting in the middle of the gated yard, clad only in his diaper. His red, tear streaked face turned up at me, and he reached out with his pink arms. He looked sunburned and sweating, and my heart went to my throat.
I leaped the fence in a single bound and rushed over to him. Sweeping him up into my arms, I pressed my hand to his forehead. He was wildly overheated, and his lips were chapped. "Shit, little man," I said desperately. "How long have you been out here?
"Da," Malcolm said, wrapping his arms around my neck.
The fact that he'd called me his dad barely even registered as I rushed up the stairs towards that half open door. With my heart beating frantically in my throat, I pushed open the door. "Mrs. Kendall?" I called. Shit, I didn't even know her first name. "Hello?"
There was no answer. I rushed across the living room and into the kitchen, flinging open cupboards until I found the one with the cups and grabbed one to run under the tap.
I offered it to Malcolm and he immediately slurped down most of it, then let out a lusty yell.
"Where's your Grandma, buddy?" I asked, then remembered. "I need MomMom. Where is MomMom?"
"MomMom?" he repeated, looking around frantically.
I turned back into the living room, and for a second my eyes passed right over her.
She looked just like a pile of dirty laundry in the corner, collapsed and slumped like a lifeless rag doll.
"Shit," I hissed, rushing over and shaking her. "Shit," I said again, setting Malcolm down. "Hang in there, Mrs. Kendall. I'm calling for help right now."