Chapter 9 - Child Logic on the Stairs
A tiny scuffing sound came from the grand staircase.
On the third step from the bottom sat Leo.
He was four years old.
He wore velvet navy shorts and a white linen shirt.
In his lap, he held a heavy, die-cast metal toy car.
One of the wheels was completely missing, leaving a jagged metal axle exposed.
He didn't look at his father.
He didn't look at the maid crying against the wall.
He looked directly at the older woman in the black dress standing at the top of the hall.
He tapped the broken metal axle against the wooden stair tread.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
"Grandma."
His voice was small, high, and completely devoid of panic.
It floated over the heavy silence, bouncing off the crystal chandelier.
"Yes, Leo," Eleanor whispered.
Her voice trembled for the first time.
Leo tilted his head.
He held up the broken toy car, pointing the missing wheel toward the overturned wheelchair at the end of the hall.
"You said we have to throw this car away because it rolls backward now."
He looked at Clara's motionless body on the floor.
He looked at the orange puddle.
"Did you break Clara so we can throw her away too?"
Arthur slowly turned his head.
He stared at his son.
Then he slowly turned his eyes back to his mother.
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The boy's logic hung in the air, heavy, irrefutable, and absolutely devastating.
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