Chapter 3 - Four Masks Became Three
Mark placed the bag on a chair but did not approach the bed.
“I brought this because the fire investigator asked about it.”
Ellie looked at Rebecca.
Her aunt stayed beside her.
The investigator, Dana Ruiz, unzipped the bag.
Inside were the same three sealed masks.
She photographed them and asked Mark where the kit had been stored.
“Upstairs landing.”
“Who maintained it?”
“My wife and I.”
“Last inventory?”
Mark hesitated.
“September, maybe.”
Ellie watched his ears turn red.
He did that when he wanted time to construct an answer.
Rebecca noticed too.
“Was Ellie supposed to have a mask?”
“Of course.”
Ellie felt heat rise through her chest.
“There wasn’t one.”
“I know.”
“You knew last night.”
Mark looked at her.
“I saw three when you opened the bag.”
“No. Before that.”
“Ellie—”
“You weren’t surprised.”
Rebecca cut in.
“Answer her.”
Mark rubbed his forehead.
“Caroline had reorganized the emergency supplies during the remodel.”
“That isn’t an answer either.”
Ruiz remained neutral.
“Mr. Davenport, were four masks originally purchased?”
“Yes.”
“Where is the fourth?”
“I don’t know.”
Ellie stared at him.
That sentence was almost worse than Caroline’s cruelty.
A family with marble countertops, two SUVs, a wine room, a home generator, and a professionally monitored alarm somehow did not know why its ten-year-old daughter’s emergency equipment had disappeared.
Ruiz asked about the exits.
Mark explained that Ellie’s bedroom normally had an emergency ladder stored beneath the window seat.
“Normally?” Rebecca asked.
“The remodel changed the cabinetry.”
“So where was her ladder?”
“In the garage.”
Ellie turned toward him.
“You knew?”
“It was temporary.”
“How was I supposed to get out?”
“The laundry exit.”
“The hallway was on fire.”
Mark closed his eyes.
Ruiz wrote something down.
The hospital social worker, Melissa Grant, spoke gently.
“Ellie, did your parents ever practice what you should do during an emergency?”
“Yes.”
“What were you told?”
“Help myself.”
Mark interrupted.
“That’s not what we said.”
Ellie looked at him.
“You said Noah might panic, so I had to stay calm.”
“That’s different.”
“Mom said if something happened, you’d handle Noah and I should remember what I’d been taught.”
Rebecca turned toward Mark.
“When was this?”
“Family safety drills.”
“You assigned an eight-year-old two adults and assigned a ten-year-old herself?”
Mark’s jaw tightened.
“Noah has asthma.”
“He has mild controlled asthma now,” Rebecca said.
“He almost died.”
“Seven years ago.”
“You weren’t there.”
“I was the one who took Ellie home that night.”
Mark stopped.
Rebecca’s voice softened.
“And apparently none of you ever brought her back emotionally.”
Nobody spoke.
Ruiz zipped the burgundy bag.
“I’m going to need the purchase records for these masks and any home-safety inspection documents from the renovation.”
Mark nodded.
Then Ellie asked the question nobody had asked.
“Who removed mine?”
Her father looked toward the window.
Not at Caroline’s room.
Not at Rebecca.
May you like
The window.
And Ellie knew he had some idea.
