Chapter 9
Diane refused to say the name.
That was the first thing she did after terrifying us.
“Who?” Mark demanded.
She looked toward the hospital door.
“I can’t.”
“You called me here.”
“I needed to warn you.”
“Then warn me properly.”
Diane started crying.
Mark didn’t comfort her.
I couldn’t tell whether the tears were genuine or strategic.
With Diane, maybe even she didn’t know anymore.
Detective Grant stepped closer.
“If you believe a child is in danger, withholding information will make things worse for you.”
Diane laughed weakly.
“You think I’m worried about prison?”
“Aren’t you?”
“No.”
She looked at Mark.
“I’m worried about what happens before I get there.”
“Who are you afraid of?”
Diane shook her head.
Then a nurse entered.
The conversation ended.
Grant arranged guards outside her room.
We left frustrated.
In the parking garage, Mark slammed his palm against a concrete pillar.
“She does this every time.”
I knew.
“She gives half the truth so everyone keeps chasing her.”
“What if this time she’s scared?”
“She is scared.”
“Then she knows something.”
Grant approached us.
“We’re going through Hale’s dead-man protocols.”
“What?”
“Automated file releases. Scheduled messages. Cloud accounts.”
Mark stared at him.
“You think files are actually coming?”
“I think we should assume so.”
That evening, the first release happened.
Dozens of emails were sent.
Journalists.
Attorneys.
Police departments.
Private citizens.
Attachments contained photographs, recordings and documents Victor had collected.
Some were embarrassing.
Some possibly criminal.
Some clearly manipulated.
Chaos erupted.
Local news reported that a deceased former police officer had maintained an illegal surveillance archive.
Victor Hale’s name became public.
Diane’s name followed within hours.
Our family did not.
Not immediately.
Then a video of Lily appeared online.
Only eight seconds.
Her sitting in the basement chair.
Face visible.
Crying.
I screamed when I saw it.
“Take it down!”
Grant’s cyber unit was already working.
The original account disappeared quickly.
Copies appeared.
Then disappeared.
I felt helpless.
My daughter’s pain had become content for strangers.
Mark sat beside me.
“We should never have let Mom into our house.”
“Stop.”
“I brought her there.”
“I agreed.”
“No, you tolerated it because I asked.”
“Mark.”
“I did this.”
I grabbed his face.
“No.”
He stared at me.
“Diane did this.”
His breathing slowed.
“Victor did this.”
He nodded.
“We protect Lily. That is what we do now.”
He nodded again.
I understood his guilt.
But guilt was exactly how Diane controlled him.
I wouldn’t let it replace her voice inside his head.
The next morning, Grant arrived unexpectedly.
“Where’s Lily?”
“With my parents upstairs.”
“Good.”
He closed the kitchen door.
“We traced the latest file release.”
Mark stood.
“To Victor?”
“No.”
“Who?”
Grant hesitated.
“The files were accessed yesterday from an IP associated with this house.”
My parents’ house.
I stared at him.
“That’s impossible.”
“Someone here?”
“Potentially.”
Mark’s face changed.
“My parents?”
I immediately felt defensive.
“No.”
Grant raised a hand.
“I’m not accusing anyone.”
“Then what are you saying?”
“Someone using this network logged into one of Hale’s cloud accounts.”
My mind raced.
My mother.
My father.
Mark.
Me.
Lily.
Police.
Rachel Monroe.
Visitors.
Then I remembered.
“Rachel.”
Grant frowned.
“Child services?”
“She used Wi-Fi when interviewing Lily.”
“When?”
“The first day.”
“Any other time?”
“Two days ago.”
Grant wrote it down.
Mark shook his head.
“No. Rachel helped us.”
Diane’s warning echoed.
Someone your family already trusts.
I hated even considering it.
Grant contacted child services.
Rachel Monroe was a legitimate investigator.
Experienced.
Clean record.
But she had one connection nobody knew.
Her maiden name was Hale.
Victor Hale was her uncle.
My stomach dropped.
“No.”
Grant’s face was grim.
“She didn’t disclose that connection.”
“Did she know?”
“We don’t know.”
“Where is she?”
“She called out sick today.”
Of course.
Police went to her apartment.
Gone.
Her car remained outside.
Her phone remained inside.
On her kitchen table sat printed photographs of our family.
Including recent ones.
One showed Lily at my parents’ window three days earlier.
Taken from outside.
Mark nearly lost control.
“She watched my daughter?”
Grant said, “We’re looking for her.”
“Find her.”
“We are.”
My mother held Lily closer for the rest of the day.
My father checked locks repeatedly.
The safe house no longer felt safe.
We moved again.
This time, police placed us at an undisclosed rental used for protected witnesses in sensitive cases.
Lily thought we were having a “sleepover vacation.”
We kept it that way.
That evening, Diane called from the hospital.
Police monitored the call.
“You found Rachel.”
It wasn’t a question.
Mark stared at the speaker.
“You knew.”
“Yes.”
“Why didn’t you say her name?”
“Because she watches everything.”
“She’s Victor’s niece.”
“More than that.”
“What does that mean?”
Diane whispered, “Victor raised her.”
I felt cold.
“Why?”
“Her mother died when she was twelve.”
“And you knew her?”
“I knew everyone around Victor.”
Mark asked, “Was Rachel involved in the surveillance?”
“Not at first.”
“Later?”
“Yes.”
“How long?”
“Years.”
“Why become a child services investigator?”
Diane was silent.
Then she said, “Access.”
My stomach turned.
Access to homes.
Families.
Children.
Records.
Mark said, “Did she target Lily?”
“No.”
“Then why us?”
“Because Victor kept files on you.”
“And?”
“When Victor realized I was losing control of you, Rachel started helping him.”
“Helping him do what?”
“Protect the system.”
Grant mouthed, Keep her talking.
Mark asked, “What system?”
Diane laughed bitterly.
“The thing we built.”
“You and Victor.”
“Yes.”
“Blackmail?”
“Information.”
“Same thing.”
“At first it was protection.”
“For who?”
“Me.”
She sounded almost offended.
“Your father wanted to leave me with nothing.”
“So you hired Victor to follow him?”
“Yes.”
“And Peter?”
“Yes.”
“And Emily?”
Years later, yes.
Mark looked at me.
I felt sick but unsurprised.
“Why?”
“Because she was taking you from me.”
Mark’s eyes hardened.
“I was never yours to own.”
Diane started crying again.
“You don’t understand what happened after your father died.”
“Tell me.”
“Victor changed.”
“How?”
“He realized information was money.”
“So you joined him.”
“I had no choice.”
“You always had a choice.”
“He knew what happened on the roof.”
Mark went still.
“What happened?”
Diane breathed shakily.
“Thomas found out about us.”
“You and Victor.”
“Yes.”
“He threatened to take me away from you.”
“Take me away from you?”
“He said you were afraid of me.”
“He was right.”
Diane made a small sound.
Maybe pain.
Maybe shock.
Mark continued.
“Did Victor push him?”
“No.”
“Did you?”
“No.”
“Then why write both stories?”
“To confuse anyone who found them.”
Mark stared at the phone.
“Tell me what actually happened.”
Diane whispered, “Thomas stepped backward.”
“Because?”
“Victor had a gun.”
Everyone froze.
Grant immediately leaned toward the speaker.
“What gun?”
Diane continued.
“Victor only wanted to scare him.”
“Was the weapon recovered?”
“No.”
“What happened?”
“Thomas backed away.”
“Toward the edge.”
“Yes.”
“Then?”
“I told Victor to lower the gun.”
“Did he?”
“No.”
“Thomas moved.”
Her voice cracked.
“He slipped.”
Mark closed his eyes.
“So Dad’s death was an accident.”
Diane started sobbing.
“No.”
Mark opened his eyes.
“Why not?”
“Because we didn’t help him.”
Silence.
I stopped breathing.
“What?”
“He didn’t die immediately.”
Mark went completely still.
Diane whispered, “He was alive after he fell.”
Mark’s voice barely worked.
“You said he died instantly.”
“I lied.”
“How long?”
“I don’t know.”
“How long, Mom?”
“Several minutes.”
Mark stood.
“And you stood there?”
“Victor told me not to move him.”
“You called an ambulance?”
Diane said nothing.
Mark shouted.
“Did you call an ambulance?”
“Not immediately.”
I covered my mouth.
“Why?”
“Victor said Thomas would tell police.”
Mark backed away from the phone.
His face looked destroyed.
“You let Dad die.”
Diane screamed, “I was scared!”
“So was he!”
“I didn’t know what to do!”
“You call for help!”
“I know!”
“You let him die to protect yourself.”
“I know!”
Lily’s voice suddenly came from the hallway.
“Daddy?”
We all froze.
She stood in pajamas holding her stuffed bear.
My mother had been in the bathroom for thirty seconds.
Long enough for Lily to wake and walk toward our voices.
She looked frightened.
“Why are you yelling?”
Mark immediately ended the call.
He crouched.
“I’m sorry.”
“Are you mad?”
“No, sweetheart.”
“Is Grandma bad again?”
His face crumpled.
He held his arms out.
Lily ran into them.
Mark buried his face in her hair.
“No,” he whispered.
“Grandma is never going to hurt us again.”
His phone buzzed while he held her.
A text.
From Rachel Monroe.
One sentence.
YOU’RE LISTENING TO THE WRONG WOMAN.
Then another.
ASK EMILY’S FATHER WHAT HE DID FOR VICTOR.
I stared at the message.
Then slowly turned toward my father.
May you like
His face told me before his mouth did.
He knew Victor Hale.
