Chapter 3
I thought I had misheard her.
“What did you say?”
Officer Ramirez pulled a chair toward me.
“Mrs. Hayes, I know this is difficult.”
“No. Say it again.”
She hesitated.
“There are photographs downstairs of a little girl who resembles your daughter.”
“How old?”
“In the photographs?”
“Yes.”
“Approximately five or six.”
My stomach turned.
“Lily is five.”
“I know.”
“Are they pictures of Lily?”
“We don’t think so.”
The room seemed to tilt.
I sat down.
Dr. Patel handed me water, but my fingers shook too badly to hold the cup.
“Why don’t you think it’s Lily?”
Officer Ramirez opened a small notebook.
“Some of the photographs appear old. The print quality, clothing, dates on the back.”
“Dates?”
“One photograph is dated nineteen ninety-eight.”
Daniel had been eleven years old in 1998.
Margaret would have been in her thirties.
I whispered, “Who is she?”
“We hoped you might know.”
“I’ve never seen those pictures.”
Officer Ramirez studied my face.
“Has your husband ever mentioned a sister?”
“No.”
“A cousin?”
“No.”
“A child who died?”
“No.”
She nodded slowly.
“We’ve detained your husband and mother-in-law while we process the house.”
“Detained?”
“They’re not under arrest at this time.”
“They drugged my daughter.”
“The investigation is active.”
I hated the careful language.
I wanted someone to tell me Daniel and Margaret were monsters and that the nightmare was over.
Instead, Officer Ramirez kept asking questions.
Had Daniel ever prevented me from entering the garage?
Yes.
Had he ever renovated it?
Yes.
Had Margaret spent time alone in the house?
Constantly.
Had Lily ever complained about headaches, sleepiness, strange dreams?
Yes.
For months.
I had blamed preschool germs.
Growth spurts.
Too much excitement.
Anything except the truth.
Then Lily came back.
She had a hospital bracelet around her wrist and a stuffed rabbit a nurse had given her.
The second she saw me, she ran into my arms.
I buried my face in her hair.
“Mommy?”
“Yes, baby?”
“Are we going home?”
My body stiffened.
“No.”
“Daddy will be mad.”
That sentence broke something in me.
I pulled back.
“Why would Daddy be mad?”
Her eyes immediately shifted toward the door.
“Lily.”
“He said I wasn’t supposed to talk about downstairs.”
Officer Ramirez stopped writing.
“What exactly did Daddy say?”
Lily looked frightened.
I stroked her cheek.
“You can tell the truth.”
She hugged the rabbit.
“He said Grandma gets sad when I ask about the girl.”
“What girl?”
“The girl who looks like me.”
My blood went cold.
“You saw the pictures?”
Lily nodded.
“Grandma showed me.”
Officer Ramirez leaned closer.
“Why?”
Lily stared at the rabbit.
“She said the girl was supposed to be my mommy.”
I stopped breathing.
“What?”
Lily looked at me.
Her face crumpled.
“But you’re my mommy.”
I pulled her against me.
“Of course I am.”
“She said you stole me.”
My head snapped toward Officer Ramirez.
“What is she talking about?”
“I don’t know.”
But her expression said she intended to find out.
I asked Lily, “What else did Grandma say?”
“She said Daddy made a mistake.”
“What mistake?”
“She said Daddy picked the wrong lady.”
I felt sick.
The wrong lady.
Me.
Officer Ramirez asked, “Did your grandmother tell you the girl’s name?”
Lily nodded.
“What was it?”
“Sara.”
The name meant nothing to me.
At least, I thought it meant nothing.
Then a memory surfaced.
A Christmas dinner four years earlier.
Margaret had been drinking wine.
She had stared at newborn Lily in my arms and whispered, “She has Sara’s eyes.”
When I asked who Sara was, Daniel had knocked over his glass.
Margaret had immediately said she meant “Sarah from church.”
I had forgotten about it.
Until now.
I told Officer Ramirez.
She wrote it down.
An hour later, my older sister Claire arrived.
I had called her from the hospital.
She ran into the room and grabbed me.
“What happened?”
I told her enough to make her face turn white.
“You’re coming home with me.”
“I can’t leave until they discharge Lily.”
“Then I’m staying.”
Around midnight, Officer Ramirez returned.
This time she had another detective with her.
Detective Mason.
He was older.
Quiet.
The kind of man whose silence seemed intentional.
“We found something else,” he said.
I tightened my arms around Lily, who was sleeping beside me.
“What?”
“A locked cabinet in the basement.”
My throat tightened.
“What was inside?”
“Medical supplies.”
I closed my eyes.
“What kind?”
“Over-the-counter sedatives. Prescription medication. Children’s dosing syringes.”
I looked at him.
“Prescription medication belonging to who?”
He glanced at Ramirez.
Then back to me.
“Some bottles were issued to a woman named Sarah Hayes.”
I whispered, “Hayes?”
Daniel’s last name.
My married name.
“Who is she?”
“We’re establishing that.”
“Did Daniel have a sister?”
Detective Mason did not answer immediately.
That terrified me.
“Your husband has refused to answer questions about Sarah.”
I laughed bitterly.
“Of course he has.”
“Margaret has asked for an attorney.”
“What about the pills on my kitchen floor?”
“We recovered them.”
“And?”
“Lab testing will take time, but the markings are consistent with a common sleep aid.”
I stared at Lily.
“How long have they been doing this?”
“We’re trying to determine that.”
Detective Mason then asked, “Mrs. Hayes, how did you meet Daniel?”
The question caught me off guard.
“At college.”
“Where?”
“Northwestern.”
“How long did you date?”
“Two years.”
“Did his mother approve of the marriage?”
I almost laughed again.
“No.”
“Why?”
“She thought I was too independent. Too career-focused. Too opinionated.”
“Did Daniel ever say why that bothered her?”
“No.”
Mason nodded.
“Did she ever compare you to another woman?”
I thought.
Then remembered.
A hundred small remarks.
“You don’t wear your hair long enough.”
“Daniel always liked softer women.”
“Some women understand that family comes before ambition.”
At the time they had felt like ordinary cruelty from a controlling mother-in-law.
Now they sounded like pieces of something planned.
“What are you thinking?” I asked.
Mason closed his notebook.
“I don’t have enough evidence to tell you.”
“Try.”
“I’d rather not speculate.”
I leaned forward.
“My daughter has been drugged in my house. There’s a hidden room with photographs of a girl who looks like her. My husband lied to me for years. Speculate.”
Mason looked at me for several seconds.
Finally, he said, “We believe Sarah was Margaret’s daughter.”
I stared at him.
“Daniel’s sister?”
“Yes.”
“You said believe.”
“We found a birth certificate.”
My skin prickled.
“Where is she?”
“We don’t know.”
“How can you not know?”
“There is no current record we’ve located.”
“What happened to her?”
Mason took a breath.
“According to the documents we found, Sarah disappeared when she was seventeen.”
I felt cold everywhere.
“When?”
“Nineteen ninety-nine.”
A year after the photographs.
“Was she found?”
“Not according to the preliminary records.”
“Then why has Daniel never told me he had a missing sister?”
That question remained unanswered.
At three in the morning, the hospital discharged Lily.
We went to Claire’s house.
I thought I would collapse the moment I reached the guest room.
I didn’t.
I sat beside Lily all night watching her breathe.
At six forty-two, my phone rang.
Unknown number.
I almost ignored it.
Then I answered.
“Hello?”
Silence.
“Hello?”
A woman whispered, “Is this Emily?”
My heart started pounding.
“Yes.”
Another pause.
Then she said, “My name is Rachel Cole.”
I waited.
“I knew Sarah Hayes.”
I sat upright.
“How did you get my number?”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“It matters to me.”
“I saw police at Margaret’s house. I knew something had finally happened.”
“What do you mean finally?”
Rachel breathed shakily.
“You have a daughter, don’t you?”
I stared at Lily.
“Yes.”
“How old?”
“Five.”
Rachel began crying.
“Oh God.”
“What?”
“You need to get away from Daniel.”
“I already did.”
“No.”
Her voice sharpened.
“I mean far away.”
“Why?”
“Because this happened before.”
I gripped the phone.
“What happened before?”
Rachel whispered, “Sarah had a daughter.”
My mouth went dry.
“When?”
“She was seventeen.”
“Where is the child?”
May you like
Rachel went silent.
Then she said, “That’s what Sarah was trying to tell everyone before she disappeared.”
