Chapter 1
I opened the baby monitor and saw our babysitter drape a towel over the camera. Three seconds later, I heard my four-year-old son scream, and the sound of something striking his little hands.
I was still sitting at my desk at work.
“Ethan?”
I turned the volume all the way up.
“Please stop! I’ll be good!”
My blood went cold.
The camera showed nothing but darkness under the towel.
But I could hear our babysitter, Rachel.
“Hold your hands out.”
“No!”
Another sharp sound came through the speaker.
Then Ethan cried even harder.
I grabbed my purse and ran.
Rachel had been watching my son for almost six months.
She had perfect references.
She smiled every morning.
Ethan had recently started begging me not to leave for work, but Rachel kept telling me it was “separation anxiety.”
I believed her.
That thought made me feel sick as I drove home.
I called my husband, Mark.
“Get home now.”
“What happened?”
“Rachel is hurting Ethan.”
There was silence.
Then Mark said something strange.
“Sarah, don’t do anything until I get there.”
I nearly dropped the phone.
“What?”
“Just wait outside.”
“My son is being hit!”
I hung up.
When I reached the house, the front door was locked.
I used my key and ran inside.
“Ethan!”
Rachel stepped out of the living room.
She was smiling.
“You’re home early.”
I looked at her hands.
She was holding a thin wooden ruler.
I ripped it away from her.
“Where is my son?”
Her smile disappeared.
“He was misbehaving.”
“WHERE IS HE?”
Ethan crawled out from behind the couch.
His little hands were red.
He ran straight into me.
“Mommy!”
I dropped to my knees and held him.
Rachel folded her arms.
“You’re making this worse. Children need discipline.”
I stood up.
“You’re never coming near him again.”
Then Ethan whispered into my shirt.
“She does it when Daddy says I’m bad.”
Everything inside me stopped.
I looked down at him.
“What did you say?”
Rachel’s face suddenly went pale.
Ethan pointed toward the hallway.
“Daddy knows.”
Before I could ask another question, the front door opened.
Mark walked in.
He looked at Ethan.
Then at Rachel.
Then at the ruler in my hand.
And he didn’t look surprised.
“Sarah,” he said quietly, “give Rachel the ruler.”
I stared at my husband.
“You knew?”
Rachel stepped closer to him.
Mark wouldn’t meet my eyes.
That was when Ethan pulled something from his pocket.
A tiny memory card.
“I took this from Daddy’s room,” he whispered.
Mark’s head snapped up.
“Ethan, give me that.”
I closed my fist around it.
“What’s on this?”
May you like
Mark rushed toward me.
And Rachel screamed, “DON’T LET HER SEE THE VIDEOS!”
