I repeated it as best I could.
Then, through Derek’s phone, I heard a voice from inside the house.
Travis.
Muffled but furious.
“I told you to shut up!”
Then Noah screamed.
It was not loud for long.
It cut off as if he had covered his own mouth.
Derek said one word.
“Move.”
He did not shout it.
He did not curse.
He sounded like a door closing.
“Who the hell are you?” Travis snapped.
Something scraped across the floor.
I heard Derek step inside.
“Noah,” he said, “look at me. Come toward my voice.”
My son sobbed, “Uncle Derek?”
I had to pull over for half a second because my hands were no longer safe on the wheel.
Cars honked behind me.
I did not care.
“That’s right, buddy,” Derek said. “Come here. Slow.”
Then his tone sharpened.
“Hands where I can see them, Travis.”
That told me the whole room.
