“Daddy, Don’t Go Yet”

My daughter stopped me with one hand on my suitcase.

I was standing in our kitchen in Bellevue, Washington, checking the time because my flight boarded in less than two hours.

Sadie was six.

She had her purple backpack on even though it was Saturday.

“Daddy, please don’t go.”

I looked down at her.

“It’s only three nights, sweetheart.”

She shook her head.

Then she looked toward the hallway.

My wife, Lauren, was upstairs getting dressed.

Sadie lowered her voice.

“When you leave, she puts drops in my juice.”

I stopped reaching for my keys.

“What drops?”

“I don’t know.”

She hugged the backpack against her chest.

“Then I get weird, and she makes videos.”

I crouched in front of her.

“What do you mean, weird?”

Sadie struggled for the words.

“My hands shake sometimes. And I get sleepy. One time I spilled my cup and she got mad because she said she needed to record it.”

I stared at her.

There are moments when your mind tries to give you an ordinary explanation because the alternative is too difficult to accept.

Maybe vitamins.

Maybe medicine Lauren thought Sadie needed.

Maybe Sadie had misunderstood.

Then she said something else.

“Derek says they need two more.”

“Who’s Derek?”

She looked surprised.

“Lauren’s friend.”

I had never heard the name.

“What does Derek need two more of?”

“Videos of me.”

Footsteps sounded upstairs.

Sadie immediately stepped away from me.

That movement bothered me more than anything she had said.

Lauren came into the kitchen wearing jeans and a gray sweater, drying her hair with a towel.

“You’re still here?”

“Yeah. Just leaving.”

She kissed my cheek and glanced at Sadie.

“We’ll be fine. Won’t we?”

Sadie nodded.

She didn’t look at her.

I picked up my suitcase.

“Call me tonight.”

“Of course.”

I drove away.

But I never went to the airport.

The Camera Over the Bookshelf

I parked three blocks away behind a grocery store and canceled my flight.

Then I called my mother-in-law, Nancy.

Nancy was Sadie’s maternal grandmother. After my first wife, Emily, passed away, Nancy and I had stayed close because she was the last person who could tell Sadie stories about her mother that I didn’t know.

“Brian? Aren’t you flying to Denver?”

“Not anymore.”

There was a pause.

“What happened?”

“I need you to be ready to take Sadie for a few days.”

Her voice changed.

“Is she okay?”

“I think so. Just be ready.”

Then I opened the security app on my phone.

We had installed cameras after a break-in down the street two years earlier. Lauren knew about the obvious ones at the doors and garage.

She had apparently forgotten about the small camera above the bookshelf in the family room.

At 10:17, Lauren walked into view carrying a glass of apple juice.

Sadie was sitting on the floor coloring.

Lauren placed the glass on the coffee table.

Then she took a small bottle from her pocket.

I watched her unscrew the cap.

One drop.

Two.

Three.

She stirred the juice with Sadie’s straw.

My thumb froze over the screen.

Lauren called toward the stairs.

“Sadie, juice.”

Sadie came into the room.

She didn’t touch it.

“I’m not thirsty.”

Lauren picked up the glass.

“You asked for juice.”

“Can I have water?”

Lauren’s face stayed calm.

“Drink this first.”

Sadie took the glass.

Then Lauren propped her phone against a decorative bowl on the coffee table, camera facing the couch.

I started the car.

By the time I reached our street, Sadie had taken only a few sips.

Lauren was watching her closely.

Not like a parent watches a child.

Like someone waiting for something.

I walked through the front door.

Lauren jumped.

“Brian?”

Sadie dropped the glass.

Lauren stood so quickly her phone tipped sideways.

“What are you doing here?”

I walked straight to Sadie.

“Get your backpack.”

She already had it beside the couch.

That nearly stopped me.

She had been ready.

Lauren stepped between us and the hallway.

“What is going on?”

“Move.”

“Brian, you’re scaring her.”

I looked at the glass.

Then at the little bottle sticking halfway out of Lauren’s cardigan pocket.

“What did you put in her drink?”

Her hand went to the pocket.

“What?”

“I watched you.”

Nothing moved in the room.

Lauren glanced toward the bookshelf.

That was enough.

“Brian, I can explain.”

“Then explain the bottle.”

“It’s a supplement.”

“For what?”

She didn’t answer.

I held out my hand to Sadie.

“Come on.”

Lauren grabbed my arm.

“You can’t just take her.”

I looked down at her hand until she let go.

“She’s my daughter.”

Sadie took my hand.

We left.

Her backpack stayed pressed against her chest the entire drive to Nancy’s house.

“What House?”

Nancy opened the door before I reached the porch.