Chapter 5 - Red Lights and Broken Bones
When I pulled up to my house, the quiet suburban street had transformed into a staging ground for emergency services. Two police cruisers were parked diagonally across the lawn with their red and blue strobe lights flashing against the white siding of my home. An ambulance was backed up right into the driveway, its rear doors wide open.
I threw my truck into park, left the engine running, and vaulted over the hood.
"Sir! Stop right there!" a uniform officer shouted, reaching for his holster as I charged toward the driveway.
"That's my son!" I screamed, shoving past his outstretched arm. "That's my house!"
Derek was sitting on the bumper of the ambulance, holding Noah wrapped in a yellow emergency blanket. A paramedic was carefully stabilizing Noah's right forearm with a soft splint. My son's face was pale, tear-streaked, and smeared with dust, but when his eyes met mine, he let out a weak whimpering cry.
"Daddy!"
I dropped to my knees on the cold asphalt, gathering Noah into my chest with extreme care, avoiding his injured arm. His little body was trembling uncontrollably against mine. I buried my face in his soft hair, smelling the familiar scent of baby shampoo mixed with the metallic tang of sweat and fear.
"I'm here, Noah. Daddy's here. I'm so sorry, baby. I'm so sorry I wasn't here," I sobbed, kissing his forehead over and over again.
"He... he broke my arm, Daddy," Noah whimpered, clutching my shirt with his left hand. "He said Mom left because of me."
A cold, venomous fury bloomed inside my chest. I looked up at Derek. My brother was standing nearby, his knuckles bloody and swollen, his shirt torn at the collar. A police officer was standing beside him, taking down his statement while looking at Derek's hands with deep suspicion.
Just then, two officers marched out through my front door.
Between them was Travis.
He was handcuffed behind his back, his head hanging low. One side of his face was badly swollen, his eye already turning a deep purple, blood dripping from his split lip onto his gray tank top. He was groaning, barely able to put weight on his left leg.
As they dragged him past the ambulance toward a cruiser, Travis lifted his head and caught my eye. He tried to scowl, but his broken lip made it look like a pathetic twitch.
"He attacked me!" Travis spat, nodding toward Derek. "I was just discipline the kid! That crazy bastard broke into my house and assaulted me!"
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I stood up slowly, stepping between Travis and my son.
"You hit a four-year-old child with a baseball bat," I said, my voice so quiet and dangerous that the officer holding Travis actually paused. "If you ever look at my son again, prison will be the safest place you'll ever be."
