Chapter 4
I stared at the message until the room blurred.
My first wife, Emily, had died eighteen months earlier.
A sudden aneurysm.
That was what the doctors told me.
One minute she had been making Lily pancakes.
The next, she was on the kitchen floor.
I had believed the medical words because grief leaves no room for investigation.
I had believed Vanessa when she appeared at the funeral with casseroles, soft hands, and gentle advice.
She had been Emily’s old friend from a charity committee.
At least, that was what she told me.
Now I looked at my sleeping daughter and wondered if anything in my life was real.
I called my brother Michael before sunrise.
He arrived in twenty minutes.
When he saw Lily asleep with crackers beside her pillow, his face broke.
“You didn’t know?”
I looked at him.
“What?”
He rubbed both hands over his face.
“Emily called me two weeks before she died.”
My chest went cold.
“She said Vanessa made her uncomfortable.”
I stood.
“And you didn’t tell me?”
“I did. At the hospital. You don’t remember?”
I shook my head.
“No.”
“You were sedated after you collapsed.”
The room tilted.
I had collapsed after Emily died.
A doctor gave me something.
Vanessa arranged it.
Vanessa handled visitors.
Vanessa handled paperwork.
Vanessa handled me.
Michael pulled up old messages.
Emily to Michael:
If anything happens to me, make Daniel check Lily’s food and my medication.
I sat down hard.
“Medication?”
Emily had migraines.
Nothing serious.
Or so I thought.
Michael’s voice shook.
“I thought it was grief talking.”
“No. You thought I would handle it.”
He looked ashamed.
“Yes.”
We called Detective Ramirez.
Then my attorney, Grace Nolan.
Grace told me to preserve everything and leave the house only with Lily.
But I refused to run before checking Emily’s office.
Vanessa had turned it into a guest room.
I had let her.
Another mistake.
Behind the closet shelves, Michael found a loose panel.
Inside was a small folder.
Emily’s handwriting covered the first page.
Daniel, if you are reading this, I waited too long to trust my fear.
My hands shook.
There were pharmacy receipts.
Photos of vitamins Vanessa had brought her.
A note about Lily coming home hungry from playdates at Vanessa’s house.
And one printed email.
Vanessa to someone named Dr. Porter:
He trusts me now. Emily is becoming a problem.
I could not breathe.
Michael said, “Daniel.”
I kept reading.
At the bottom of the folder was a preschool lunch report.
Lily had been missing meals months before Emily died.
Emily had noticed.
Emily had confronted Vanessa.
Then Emily was gone.
The doorbell rang.
I checked the camera.
Vanessa stood on the porch with two police officers and a court order.
Behind her was Dr. Elaine Porter.
May you like
Vanessa smiled into the camera.
“Daniel, open up. We’re here for Lily’s emergency wellness check.”
