Chapter 8
I felt like the floor disappeared.
“You have another child?”
Ryan shook his head quickly.
“No. Not now.”
“What does that mean?”
He looked around the room.
Deputies were still moving outside.
Lily was asleep in my parents’ bedroom with my mother beside her.
And somehow, in the middle of everything, my marriage had opened another door I never knew existed.
Ryan stared at his hands.
“My girlfriend in college got pregnant.”
I sat across from him.
“What was her name?”
“Claire.”
“And the baby?”
His voice broke.
“Madison.”
I couldn’t speak.
“Why have you never told me this?”
“Because she died.”
The anger inside me stopped.
Not disappeared.
Stopped.
“How?”
“She was eight months old.”
Ryan swallowed.
“Claire and I were barely functioning. We were kids. I worked nights. She was taking classes. My mom helped constantly.”
That last sentence made my stomach tighten.
“What happened?”
“One evening, Claire went to the pharmacy. Mom was watching Madison.”
I already knew I wasn’t going to like the next part.
“She fell down the basement stairs.”
I stared at him.
“The baby?”
He nodded.
“She died at the hospital.”
I covered my mouth.
“I’m sorry.”
His tears fell.
“I have spent sixteen years trying not to think about it.”
“Was Diane charged?”
“No.”
“What did she say happened?”
“That she was carrying laundry. She thought Madison was in the playpen. Somehow Madison got out. Mom left the basement door open.”
My skin prickled.
“How old was she?”
“Eight months.”
“Could she crawl?”
“Yes.”
“Claire believed her?”
“No.”
That answer came immediately.
“What happened to Claire?”
“She accused Mom of lying.”
My heart began pounding.
“About what?”
“Claire said Madison was terrified of Mom.”
I stared at him.
Ryan looked sick.
“She said my mother was too rough. That Madison cried whenever Mom picked her up. I told her babies cry.”
“Oh my God.”
“I know.”
“No, Ryan.”
I stood.
“Oh my God.”
“Emma.”
“You did this before.”
He looked like I had struck him.
“You let your mother explain another child’s fear.”
“I was nineteen.”
“And now you’re thirty-six.”
“I know.”
“What happened with Claire?”
“She left.”
“After Madison died?”
“Yes.”
“Did you stay with Diane?”
He closed his eyes.
“Yes.”
I walked toward the window.
The woods outside were dark.
Police lights moved between the trees.
“What did the investigation find?”
“Accidental death.”
“Did anyone question Diane?”
“Yes.”
“And?”
“No evidence of anything else.”
I turned.
“Why did she bring this up now?”
“I don’t know.”
“Think.”
Ryan rubbed both hands over his face.
“Because Claire blamed her.”
“For the accident?”
“For more than the accident.”
My stomach tightened again.
“What more?”
“Claire said Mom had been withholding bottles.”
The room went silent.
I heard the hum of the refrigerator.
Nothing else.
“What?”
Ryan’s eyes met mine.
“Claire said Madison would be starving when she picked her up.”
I felt physically sick.
“And you never connected that to Lily?”
“I hadn’t thought about those accusations in years.”
“How convenient.”
He flinched.
“I buried everything.”
“Your mother withheld food from an infant, then sixteen years later withheld food from your daughter.”
“We don’t know that she withheld bottles.”
“Claire said she did.”
“Yes.”
“And you didn’t believe her.”
He looked down.
“No.”
My anger came back stronger.
Not because Ryan had been nineteen.
Because I saw the pattern now.
Diane had spent his entire life teaching him that women who challenged her were unstable.
Overreacting.
Dramatic.
Claire had been first.
I had simply been next.
“Can we find Claire?”
Ryan looked up.
“I don’t know.”
“When did you last speak to her?”
“Fifteen years ago.”
“Do you know her last name?”
“Yes.”
“Then we find her.”
He hesitated.
“What if she doesn’t want to talk?”
“Then we respect that.”
“And if she does?”
“Then maybe we finally listen.”
The detective working Diane’s case agreed that the old incident could be relevant.
Not proof.
But a pattern worth documenting.
Megan helped search online.
Claire’s full name was Claire Donovan.
Within an hour, we found a woman with that name living in Wisconsin.
Same age.
Same university in her profile.
I stared at the screen.
“That’s her?”
Ryan nodded.
He looked terrified.
“You contact her,” I said.
He shook his head.
“I don’t think I should.”
“Why?”
“Because if I’m the last person she wants to hear from, I don’t want to make this worse.”
For once, I agreed.
The detective contacted her instead.
We waited.
By noon, Diane was still missing.
Police found tire tracks near the cabin but no vehicle.
They believed someone had dropped her off.
That meant she had help.
Patricia swore it wasn’t her.
I believed her.
Mostly.
At 2:30, the detective returned.
“Claire Donovan agreed to speak.”
Ryan stood.
“So it’s her?”
“Yes.”
My heart pounded.
“What did she say?”
“She remembers Diane.”
Ryan gave a broken laugh.
“I’m sure she does.”
The detective looked at him.
“She also remembers you.”
Ryan lowered his eyes.
“Did she say anything about Madison?”
“She asked to speak with you personally.”
Ryan went still.
“I don’t think—”
The detective handed him a phone number.
“It’s your choice.”
He stared at the paper.
Hours passed.
He didn’t call.
That night, after Lily fell asleep, I found him sitting on the porch steps.
The police had left a patrol car down the road.
“You should call her.”
“I’m scared.”
“Of what?”
“That she’ll tell me what I already know.”
I sat beside him.
“That you failed her?”
He nodded.
I understood that fear.
Because I felt it too.
Every time Lily asked permission for food.
Every time she flinched after making a mess.
I knew guilt could either make you hide or make you better.
“You don’t call Claire for yourself.”
Ryan looked at me.
“You call because she deserves to be heard.”
He stared at the paper.
Then dialed.
Claire answered.
I stood to leave.
Ryan caught my hand.
“Stay.”
I hesitated.
Then sat down.
“Claire?”
Long silence.
Then a woman’s voice.
“Ryan.”
His face crumpled.
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t start there.”
He swallowed.
“Okay.”
“I heard about your daughter.”
“Yes.”
“Is she safe?”
“Yes.”
“Good.”
Ryan closed his eyes.
“I should have believed you.”
Claire was silent.
“I know.”
The simplicity of her answer hurt more than anger.
Ryan started crying.
“I was nineteen.”
“I know how old you were.”
“That’s not an excuse.”
“No.”
“I’m sorry.”
This time she let him say it.
Then Claire asked, “Did she do it again?”
Ryan stopped breathing.
“What do you mean?”
“Food.”
I felt my entire body tense.
“Yes.”
Claire exhaled.
“I knew it.”
“Claire, what happened with Madison?”
A long pause.
Then she said something neither of us expected.
“Your mother didn’t leave the basement door open.”
Ryan stared ahead.
“What?”
“I did.”
He looked confused.
“I don’t understand.”
“Because there was a safety gate.”
My skin went cold.
Ryan whispered, “What safety gate?”
“The one I bought after Madison started crawling.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“I don’t remember one.”
“Because your mother removed it.”
Ryan stood.
“What?”
“I came home from the pharmacy. The gate was in the garage.”
“Why?”
“She said it was inconvenient.”
Ryan was shaking.
“Did you tell police?”
“Yes.”
“What did they say?”
“Your mother said I had removed it earlier that day.”
“Did they believe her?”
“They said there was no way to prove who removed it.”
Ryan pressed his fist to his mouth.
Claire continued.
“But that wasn’t why I blamed her.”
“What was?”
“Madison had bruises.”
I closed my eyes.
“On her arm.”
Ryan sat down again.
“Mom said the hospital caused them.”
“They were older.”
Claire’s voice shook now.
“I had photographed them two days before she died.”
Ryan whispered, “Why didn’t I know?”
“You did.”
He froze.
“No.”
“Yes, Ryan.”
His face went blank.
“I showed you.”
“No.”
“I showed you the pictures. You said your mother told you Madison bruised easily.”
I watched my husband break.
Not loudly.
Not dramatically.
His shoulders simply folded.
Claire’s voice softened.
“I’m not telling you this to destroy you.”
“I deserved it.”
“No. I’m telling you because your daughter is alive.”
Ryan cried harder.
“Protect her.”
“I will.”
“Believe her.”
“I do.”
“Then stop letting your mother decide what reality is.”
Ryan whispered, “I’m sorry.”
Claire was quiet.
Then she said, “I know.”
The call ended.
For several minutes, Ryan didn’t move.
I sat beside him.
I didn’t comfort him.
Not yet.
Then the porch light flickered.
Once.
Twice.
And went out.
I looked toward the driveway.
The cabin became completely dark.
Ryan stood.
“What happened?”
Inside, my father called out.
“Power’s out.”
My phone buzzed.
Unknown number.
One message.
Claire always hated me too.
I showed Ryan.
His face went white.
The next message came immediately.
Funny how women become brave when they think men will finally believe them.
A noise came from the back of the cabin.
Glass breaking.
Ryan ran inside.
I was right behind him.
My mother screamed.
“Lily!”
I reached the bedroom.
The window was open.
The curtains were moving.
The bed was empty.
For one second, the entire world disappeared.
Then I heard Lily crying from the hallway closet.
“Mommy!”
I ran to her.
She was curled behind a pile of coats.
I pulled her against me.
“Why are you in here?”
“Grandma knocked on the window.”
Ryan turned toward the open bedroom window.
On the pillow was a folded piece of paper.
He picked it up.
May you like
Three words were written in Diane’s handwriting.
YOU STOLE HIM.
