Chapter 5 - The Blue Notebook
Harlan did not take Sadie to school.
Not immediately.
He called Dana first.
Twenty years earlier, he might have driven straight there, retrieved the notebook and considered himself helpful.
Experience had taught him why that could be a mistake.
If the notebook contained relevant evidence, adults handling it unnecessarily could create questions about alteration, coaching or chain of custody.
Dana listened carefully.
“Did you ask her what’s in it?”
“No.”
“Good.”
“I told her we needed permission before touching anything.”
“Better.”
Dana contacted the school principal.
By noon, arrangements were made.
Sadie’s second-grade classroom was empty when they arrived.
The principal, Mrs. Alvarez, met them with the school counselor.
Sadie walked between Harlan and Dana.
She was still weak, but insisted she could walk.
Her desk was near the window.
A paper sun hung above it.
Sadie knelt and reached beneath the desk tray.
Her fingers searched behind a stack of construction paper.
Then her face changed.
“It’s gone.”
Harlan remained still.
Dana crouched.
“Where exactly did you put it?”
“Here.”
Sadie pointed toward the back corner.
“When?”
“Yesterday.”
“Who knew it was here?”
“No one.”
“Was it always in your desk?”
Sadie hesitated.
“Usually.”
“Did you ever take it home?”
“Sometimes.”
Mrs. Alvarez looked at the teacher’s empty desk.
“Classrooms were cleaned last night. I can ask custodial staff.”
Sadie shook her head.
“They wouldn’t throw it away.”
“How do you know?”
“Because I wrote my name on it.”
Dana asked, “What color was it?”
“Blue.”
“Anything on the cover?”
“A white bird.”
Harlan watched Sadie’s face.
Disappointment.
Fear.
Something else.
“How important is it?” Mrs. Alvarez asked.
Sadie whispered, “Very.”
The school counselor asked gently, “Sadie, did anyone know you wrote in the notebook?”
Sadie stared at the floor.
“Maren.”
Harlan’s stomach tightened.
“How did she know?” Dana asked.
“She found it once.”
“When?”
“Before summer.”
“What happened?”
“She read it.”
Harlan saw Dana choose her next question carefully.
“How did that make you feel?”
“Bad.”
“Did she give it back?”
“After she ripped some pages.”
Harlan turned his head away for a moment.
Dana remained calm.
“What kinds of things did you write?”
Sadie looked toward Harlan.
He gave her no hint about what answer he wanted.
“I write dates.”
“Dates of what?”
“When stuff happens.”
“What kind of stuff?”
Sadie hugged the yellow blanket around herself.
“When they leave.”
The room became completely silent.
“And other things?”
“When I don’t get dinner.”
Harlan’s chest tightened.
“When Wesley yells.”
She paused.
“When Maren says I’m lying.”
Dana’s voice remained gentle.
“Anything else?”
Sadie nodded.
“When she locks the pantry.”
Harlan closed his eyes briefly.
The grilled cheese.
The soup.
The crackers.
Mrs. Alvarez seemed stunned.
The counselor was not.
That told Harlan something.
Dana noticed too.
“You’ve heard something before?”
The counselor looked at the principal.
Mrs. Alvarez answered.
“We’ve had concerns about Sadie coming to school hungry.”
“How many times?”
“Enough that her teacher started keeping snacks in the classroom.”
Harlan stared at them.
“Was anyone notified?”
Mrs. Alvarez looked uncomfortable.
“The concerns never reached the threshold we believed required a formal report.”
Dana’s expression sharpened.
“What threshold?”
“She never disclosed being denied food. She said she didn’t like breakfast.”
The counselor added, “She was also protective of her parents.”
Sadie looked down.
Harlan recognized that too.
Children often protected the adults who frightened them.
Not because the adults deserved protection.
Because losing them could be even more frightening.
Mrs. Alvarez went to check security access and custodial records.
Dana stayed with Sadie.
Harlan stepped into the hallway.
His phone rang.
Wesley.
He answered.
“Where is she?”
“At school.”
“What?”
“Dana approved it.”
“Why are you at school?”
Harlan looked through the classroom window at Sadie.
“She had something in her desk.”
“What?”
“A notebook.”
Silence.
Then Wesley said, “Dad.”
Harlan’s pulse quickened.
“What?”
“What notebook?”
“Blue. White bird.”
Wesley breathed out slowly.
“I’ve seen it.”
“When?”
“Months ago.”
“Where?”
“At home.”
“What was in it?”
“I didn’t read it.”
“Why not?”
“Because Maren had it.”
Harlan said nothing.
Wesley continued.
“They had a huge argument. Sadie said it was private. Maren said children don’t get privacy from parents.”
“What happened to it?”
“I thought Maren threw it away.”
“It ended up at school.”
Another silence.
Then Wesley asked, “Is it there?”
“No.”
“What do you mean?”
“It’s missing.”
Wesley cursed quietly.
Harlan stepped farther down the hallway.
“Where is Maren right now?”
“I don’t know.”
“You’re not together?”
“She left.”
“When?”
“After the hospital.”
“Where did she go?”
“She said her sister’s.”
“Have you confirmed that?”
“No.”
Harlan heard his old instincts speaking before he could suppress them.
“Check.”
“Harlan.”
“Check.”
The principal returned ten minutes later.
No notebook had been logged by custodial staff.
No teacher had removed it.
But there was one complication.
The school’s hallway camera showed someone entering the building at 7:12 that morning.
Before the office officially opened.
The side entrance had been unlocked for cafeteria deliveries.
The person wore a hooded sweatshirt and stayed out of clear camera view.
But at 7:16, the person left carrying something rectangular under one arm.
Dana asked for the footage.
Mrs. Alvarez agreed.
Harlan did not need to see the face.
He noticed the walk.
Quick steps.
Right shoulder slightly lower than the left.
He had seen Maren walk that way for fourteen years.
Dana watched him watching the screen.
“You recognize something?”
“I think I might.”
Before he could explain, his phone rang again.
Wesley.
Harlan answered.
His son sounded breathless.
“She’s not at her sister’s.”
“Where is she?”
“I don’t know.”
“Anything missing from the house?”
“I’m checking.”
Harlan waited.
Cabinet doors opened on Wesley’s side.
Then a curse.
“What?”
“The drawer.”
“What drawer?”
“Kitchen desk. Where we keep school documents and adoption records.”
Harlan felt the room narrow around him.
“What’s missing?”
“Sadie’s adoption folder.”
Dana turned toward him.
Harlan put the call on speaker.
Wesley continued.
“And Dad?”
“Yes?”
“There’s something else.”
His voice had changed.
Fear now.
May you like
Not defensiveness.
“The backup drive from our home security camera is gone too.”
