“He is not clumsy,” I said. “Ethan has average motor skills and has not had a physical accident since his preschool enrollment in twenty-two.”
“Kids fall,” Mark said, his defensive tone returning as he looked toward the nursing station. “He was playing with Tyler, they got carried away, and he missed a step.”
“Was Lisa home?”
“She was in the kitchen,” Mark said, his tongue darting out to wet his upper lip. “She didn’t see it happen either.”
“And you were already there?”
“I got back early from Toledo,” he said, his left hand resuming its slow circle around his bare wrist. “I was just pulling into our driveway when I saw the flashing lights.”
But the ambulance had not been called until four-oh-five, according to the dispatch log I had heard on the car radio.
Mark’s regional sales meeting was scheduled to end at four, which meant he would have had to travel sixty-four miles in five minutes to be in our driveway.
“We will talk about the schedule later,” I said.
I pushed past him into the examination room, where the air was colder and smelled of rubbing alcohol.
