Child by Chance

He poured milk over his own oat cereal and joined Kent at the table. He talked about their plans to go to the batting cages later that afternoon. About a game they were going to watch that night. He asked his son if hot dogs sounded good for dinner.

He made it until Kent came out of his room in jeans that were too pristine to belong to a little boy and a game-day jersey tucked into them before calling his son into the office.

“Log on for me,” he said, pointing to Kent’s computer.

Without hesitating, the boy did just that. And then plopped down into his chair.

“Show me what’s new,” Sherman said next.

Kent took him through a couple of new homework folders. Showed him a new level he’d reached on a downloaded video game. A cartoon game where he had to figure out increasingly difficult puzzles to move from one level to the next. Nothing to do with death, dying or killing. The boy was not allowed to do any online gaming at all. Sherman wasn’t chancing what he might come across or be asked to do during the game chats. But Kent didn’t seem to mind.

Leaning forward in his own chair, which he’d pulled over, Sherman followed Kent’s explanations, praising him where praise had been earned. And slowly started to crumble a bit inside.

Kent wasn’t going to show him the folder. He knew it as surely as he knew he was sitting there. The boy had just accessed the folder that week, though Sherman had been able to ascertain earlier by clicking on its properties that it had existed for almost a year.

“That’s it,” Kent finally said, dropping back in the chair that was too big for him. His head was resting against the back of the chair, which meant that his back nearly covered the seat of it.

“You sure?” Sherman asked. He’d have crossed his fingers behind his back if he’d been his son’s age.

“Yeah.”

“You haven’t done anything else on this computer this week.”

“Nope.”

“Nothing at all?”

“Nope.”

Kent’s heel tapped on the floor, his expression placid.

“You know what happens if I find out you’re lying to me.” Just checking. Or reminding.

“I lose my right to my own computer. I have to do homework on the laptop that’s offline and empty of all games.”

“Right.” He waited. Giving Kent the chance to think on it and come clean.

The boy had to know he was going to bust him. He knew the folder was there. And he’d also know that Sherman knew something. He’d never grilled him before.

And maybe he should have.

Or...

Maybe he should leave Kent to his privacy. The idea was tempting. It couldn’t be a permanent condition. He was going to have to know what was going on. But maybe he should speak with Dr. Jordon first. Maybe he’d like a good, relaxing weekend with his son before they got up Monday morning and had to slay dragons again.

Yeah, maybe. He could keep an eye on Kent all weekend. Make sure that the boy didn’t access whatever was in the troubling folder.

Or maybe he should give Kent time alone in the office and wait for him to think it was safe to open the folder. Maybe he should bust him then, with the evidence on the screen...

Duplicity had never been his way. He wasn’t usually a coward, either.

And since when did he need a psychologist telling him how to discipline his son?

He amended that last thought. He’d needed it since Brooke’s death, of course. But no matter how much Kent was struggling...

“I can’t abide lying in this house, Kent,” he said aloud. There was no attack here. Nothing to push Kent into defensive mode. There was only impenetrable fact.

“I’m not lying.” His son looked him straight in the eye.

And left Sherman no choice but to lean forward, take the boy’s mouse and find the incriminating folder. Kent, still leaning back as though he hadn’t a care in the world, watched him. Sherman clicked to open the folder and got the password protection screen.

“Open it,” he told his son.

Sitting up, Kent did so, quickly enough that even though he was watching, Sherman didn’t catch the password. Clearly, it was one they’d never used before. He’d tried everything he could think of while his son slept in.

The folder opened, and Sherman blinked. “There’s nothing there.”

“I know.”

Could Kent have come across some elaborate program that allowed him to erase the contents of a folder upon opening it with some password keystroke?

There was no other way the boy could have emptied that folder. Unless he’d done it earlier that week and that was why he’d accessed it.

But then why leave it there at all, if he was going to empty it?

“What was in there?”

“Nothing.”

“The folder’s been there almost a year.”

“Yeah.”

If he wasn’t mistaken his son was hiding a grin. But not a fun one. No, his eyes took on almost a sly look. A knowing look. If a ten-year-old could manage such a thing.

“Did you create it?” Kent seemed willing to answer anything, so he was going to ask everything he could think of.

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“To see if you were really checking up on me like you said you were going to do. I created a password-protected folder just to see if you’d find it and ask me about it. It took you almost a year. Good going, Dad.”

Sherman sat back, his fingers on either side of his chin. He’d shaved in a hurry. Missed some spots. He ran a hand through his hair. He wore his longer than Kent’s now that Brooke was gone. She’d liked it short. He liked it more casual and...

“You were testing me,” he said to the boy, just to clarify.

“Yeah.”