Chapter 5
I stared at Ryan.
“My mother?”
He nodded slowly.
I almost laughed.
Not because it was funny.
Because nothing made sense anymore.
“My mother never knew Diane before we got married.”
“That’s what we thought.”
I grabbed my phone.
My mother, Margaret, lived two states away.
We spoke every Sunday.
She had met Diane at our wedding.
Or at least that was what I believed.
I called.
No answer.
Again.
Nothing.
Ryan paced across the kitchen.
“Emily, there could be another Margaret Reed.”
“There probably is.”
But I didn’t believe it.
Not after everything else.
Five minutes later, my phone rang.
Mom.
I answered immediately.
“Mom?”
Her voice was cautious.
“Emily, what’s wrong?”
“Do you know Diane Carter?”
Silence.
Not confusion.
Silence.
My heart sank.
“Mom?”
“Yes.”
Ryan stopped pacing.
I put the phone on speaker.
“How?”
My mother began crying.
“Emily, I wanted to tell you.”
“When?”
“When you got engaged to Ryan.”
“But you didn’t.”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because Diane threatened me.”
Ryan stepped closer.
“With what?”
Mom took a shaky breath.
“She said she would destroy Emily’s life if I interfered.”
I gripped the counter.
“How did you know her?”
“We grew up in the same town.”
“And Claire?”
My mother went quiet again.
“Mom.”
“I knew Claire.”
Ryan’s face hardened.
“Were you there when she died?”
“No.”
The answer came quickly.
“Then why is your name in Thomas’s statement?”
“Because I saw Diane punish Claire before.”
My mother’s voice cracked.
“She used closets. Cabinets. The cellar.”
I closed my eyes.
“Why didn’t you report her?”
“I did.”
Ryan leaned toward the phone.
“What?”
“I called child services twice.”
“And?”
“Diane convinced everyone Claire was lying.”
Mom began crying harder.
“Then one afternoon, Claire came to my house.”
“How old was she?” I asked.
“Eight.”
“She was barefoot. Terrified. She begged me not to send her home.”
My stomach twisted.
“What did you do?”
“I called the police.”
Ryan whispered, “Thank God.”
Mom didn’t respond.
“What happened?” I asked.
“The officer returned her to Diane.”
Ryan slammed his fist against the counter.
Mom continued.
“Three days later, Claire was dead.”
Nobody spoke.
Finally, I asked the question I feared.
“Did you know how?”
“I suspected.”
“Did you tell anyone?”
“Yes. Thomas.”
Ryan looked up.
“My father?”
“He came to me after the funeral. He was falling apart. He told me Diane had locked Claire inside the freezer.”
“Then why didn’t you go to police together?”
“We planned to.”
My mother’s voice grew smaller.
“But Diane found out.”
“What did she do?”
“She threatened Ryan.”
Ryan froze.
“What?”
“She said if Thomas accused her, she would tell police Thomas killed Claire.”
“How?”
“She had already planted evidence.”
Thomas had never mentioned that.
Mom continued.
“She kept one of Claire’s shirts in Thomas’s truck. She wrote things in a diary making him look violent. She had been preparing.”
Ryan whispered, “Even then.”
“Yes.”
Diane had been building stories around people for decades.
Just like the photographs of me.
Just like her notebook.
Just like the guardianship papers.
She didn’t simply hurt people.
She prepared explanations before she hurt them.
My mother said, “Emily, listen carefully.”
“I’m listening.”
“Diane will not accept losing control.”
My eyes moved toward the front window.
Police cars were still outside.
“She’s with the police.”
“For now.”
“Mom, what are you saying?”
“I’m saying she always has another plan.”
A crash came from upstairs.
Ryan and I ran.
“Lily!”
We reached the bedroom.
The window was open.
The curtain moved in the wind.
Lily was gone.
My scream ripped through the house.
Officers rushed upstairs.
I searched under the bed.
The closet.
Bathroom.
Nothing.
Then Ryan pointed.
On Lily’s pillow was a folded note.
The officer opened it.
Four words.
She belongs with family.
Ryan ran toward the hall.
“Mom escaped?”
An officer checked his radio.
Then his expression changed.
“No.”
“What?”
“Diane is still in custody.”
I stared at the open window.
“Then who took my daughter?”
The officer looked at the note again.
Before anyone answered, Ryan’s phone rang.
He answered.
A woman whispered:
May you like
“If you want Lily alive, stop asking about Claire.”
Then the call ended.
