He had fought in regional MMA shows in his twenties, but the fights were not what made him dangerous.
What made Derek dangerous was that he did not need to perform anger.
He got quiet.
“I’m maybe fifteen minutes from Lena’s place,” he said.
“Go now.”
“You calling 911?”
“Right now.”
“I’m moving.”
He hung up before I could say anything else.
By 1:20 p.m., I was in my car with one phone connected to emergency dispatch and the other line waiting for Derek to call back.
I gave the dispatcher everything.
Noah’s full name.
His age.
Lena’s address.
The fact that Travis was an adult male.
The fact that a baseball bat was involved.
The fact that my son said he had been threatened if he cried.
The dispatcher kept her voice steady.
“Is the child breathing?”
“He was talking less than a minute ago,” I said. “Then the man took the phone.”
