Chapter 6
The detective asked Sarah to come in for an interview.
She agreed only after Michael told her he would not meet privately.
I stayed home with Lily while they spoke. Waiting made every sound outside seem too loud. I checked the front window so often that Lily finally asked me to sit beside her.
We built the toy horse a stable from cardboard boxes.
“Does Aunt Sarah hate me?” she asked while I cut out a door.
“No. What she did was cruel, and it wasn’t caused by anything you did.”
“Then why did she say nobody liked me?”
“I think she wanted to hurt me, and she chose words she knew would hurt you. That was her decision.”
Lily pressed a strip of tape onto the roof.
“She could have said them to you.”
“She should have left you out of it.”
I wished I had a better answer. I gave her the honest one.
The detective called that afternoon. Sarah had admitted she came near our street to “speak to Michael.” She claimed she photographed the girls because she wanted proof I was letting Lily play normally after telling people Sarah had frightened her.
“She says the message was meant for your brother,” the detective told me.
“It was sent to me.”
“I know. We’ve asked her not to contact you or come to your home while we continue the investigation.”
Sarah had also denied signing the trust form.
The detective would compare documents and speak with the person who processed the address request. I thanked her, then sat for a moment with the phone in my hand.
A warning felt small next to the picture of Lily.
Dad came over that evening to help me put better locks on the back gate. While he worked, I revised the care plan I’d discussed with him. If something happened to me, Dad would be Lily’s guardian, with Michael as the next person she knew and trusted. Ms. Patel helped prepare the documents.
Lily watched us from the kitchen door.
“Are you moving, Grandpa?”
“No,” Dad said. “Your father asked me to fix a gate that squeaks louder than I do.”
She grinned.
The following week, Lily met with a counselor recommended by her school. I sat in the waiting room, afraid she would come out more upset.
Instead, she asked if we could return.
“She has a dollhouse,” Lily told me. “And she said I can talk about Mom.”
“Good.”
“I told her about the candles.”
I held her hand on the walk to the car.
“You can tell her anything.”
At home, I found an envelope pushed through the mail slot. It contained a photocopy of Claire’s photograph from our wedding day and a note written in thick black pen.
She would be ashamed of you.
I photographed it where it lay. Michael took one look and told the detective he was willing to give a full statement about Sarah’s messages to him.
I nearly threw the note away afterward.
Dad stopped me.
“Keep it with the rest,” he said. “You don’t have to read it again.”
That night, I put the photograph on the mantel. It showed Claire laughing because the wind had blown her veil across my face.
Lily came downstairs for water and saw it.
“Mom looks happy.”
“She was.”
“Was she scared when she was sick?”
I sat on the stairs with her. We had talked about Claire’s illness before, though Lily’s questions changed as she got older.
“Sometimes,” I said. “She told me when she was scared. We stayed together through it.”
Lily climbed onto the step beside me.
“I think I’m scared of Aunt Sarah.”
“I know. You’re safe here. I’ll listen whenever you tell me you’re scared.”
She leaned her head on my arm.
The next morning, Michael called with news from Denise. Sarah’s business had lost its largest client. The contractor had agreed to a payment plan if Denise took over the work, but Denise had ended her partnership with Sarah.
Michael sounded tired rather than pleased.
“She’s telling people you ruined her business,” he said.
“Did Denise tell them what happened?”
“She told the contractor the truth about the money. She didn’t mention Lily.”
I was grateful for that.
Two days later, the detective called me back.
The office handling the trust records had located the original address request. It carried a signature from a witness.
May you like
The witness was someone I knew.
It was my mother.
