Chapter 9
The police reopened questions surrounding Ryan’s death.
They didn’t call it a murder investigation.
Officer Collins was careful about that.
She said old accusations could be wrong.
Memories could change.
People could lie.
Dad repeated all of that before telling Lily anything.
He didn’t tell her about the keys.
He only said investigators wanted to learn more about the accident.
Lily asked one question.
“Was Mom there?”
Dad nodded.
“Yes.”
That was enough to upset her.
She ran upstairs.
I followed.
She sat inside her closet with the door open.
I sat on the floor outside it.
“Go away.”
“No.”
“I hate everybody.”
“Okay.”
“I hate you too.”
“Okay.”
She looked at me.
“That’s what Daddy says.”
“I know.”
She threw a stuffed rabbit at me.
I caught it.
“You’re annoying.”
“You gave me chicken.”
“What does that have to do with anything?”
“Everything.”
Her face crumpled.
I crawled into the closet.
We barely fit.
She leaned against me.
“What if Mom did something bad to my first dad?”
“I don’t know.”
“Then half of me is bad.”
“No.”
“She’s my mom.”
“You’re not her.”
“You’re like your mom.”
I stiffened.
Lily realized immediately.
“I mean your nice mom.”
I knew.
But the words stayed.
You’re like your mom.
Amanda had said I inherited bad things from mine.
Now Lily was afraid she had inherited bad things from hers.
I thought about what Dad told me.
“Maybe parents give us stuff.”
“What stuff?”
“Eyes. Hair. Maybe being tall.”
“You’re short.”
“So are you.”
She almost smiled.
I continued.
“But I don’t think they get to choose who we become.”
“Who does?”
“We do.”
It sounded smart.
I was seven.
I had probably heard something similar from Dr. Harris.
Still, Lily believed me.
The reopened accident investigation didn’t produce a quick answer.
Ryan had died four years earlier.
His blood alcohol level had been above the legal limit.
He had crashed alone.
Amanda had told police they argued before he left.
Nothing in the old report suggested she forced him to drive.
Nicole’s claim was disturbing.
But disturbing wasn’t proof.
Rachel made sure Dad understood that.
“We cannot build our current case around this.”
“I know.”
“And you cannot mention it publicly.”
“I know.”
“Daniel.”
“I know.”
Dad was angry.
Not because he wanted Amanda accused of something without evidence.
Because every new secret made him wonder what else he had missed.
Then the school called.
I had been cleared to return after our temporary absence.
Dad drove me himself.
I didn’t want to go.
Kids knew.
Of course they knew.
Their parents had seen Amanda’s posts.
Some had seen the news.
During recess, a boy named Mason walked up to me.
“My mom says your dad kidnapped your sister.”
I stared at him.
“No, he didn’t.”
“She says your stepmom got arrested because your dad is rich.”
“My dad isn’t rich.”
Mason shrugged.
“My mom says he paid the police.”
“That’s stupid.”
Mason pushed me.
I pushed him back.
A teacher separated us.
I ended up in the counselor’s office.
Mrs. Green was the counselor who had contacted Dad months earlier.
She handed me tissues.
“I’m not crying.”
“You don’t have to be crying to need tissues.”
That made no sense.
She sat across from me.
“Your dad knows what happened.”
“Am I in trouble?”
“We’re more concerned about whether you feel safe here.”
I stared at my shoes.
“Did you tell him?”
“Tell who what?”
“My dad. Before.”
She understood.
“You mean when you told me you didn’t like being home while he traveled?”
I nodded.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because I was worried.”
“Did I tell you Amanda hurt me?”
“No.”
“Then why were you worried?”
Mrs. Green opened a folder.
She didn’t show me everything.
But she told me.
I had started asking classmates for extra snacks.
I fell asleep during morning reading.
I once cried when the cafeteria ran out of chicken because I thought I wouldn’t be allowed dinner.
I told Mrs. Green I was clumsy when she saw a bruise on my arm.
She had documented all of it.
“I should’ve said more,” I whispered.
She shook her head.
“You were a child.”
“I’m still a child.”
She smiled sadly.
“Yes.”
“Then why does everybody keep saying I should’ve told?”
“Who says that?”
“People online.”
Mrs. Green leaned forward.
“People online were not in your house.”
That became another sentence I remembered.
The school changed its pickup rules.
Dad or Susan only.
Nobody else.
For several days, everything stayed quiet.
Then on Friday afternoon, Lily’s teacher called Dad.
Lily attended a different elementary school.
Her dismissal line had already started.
A woman had arrived claiming to be her aunt.
Monica.
The office refused to release Lily because Monica wasn’t authorized.
Monica argued.
Then left.
Dad called her immediately.
She swore she had never gone to the school.
Officer Collins checked the security video.
The woman had sunglasses and a baseball cap.
It wasn’t Monica.
It was Amanda.
Nobody understood how.
Amanda was supposed to be in custody.
Rachel called the jail.
Then called Dad back.
Her voice was tight.
“Amanda was released this morning.”
Dad nearly dropped the phone.
“Released?”
“Her attorney got bond reduced yesterday. The system notification went to the wrong email address.”
Dad went white.
I was standing beside him.
Lily was still at school.
Amanda had already tried to get her.
Dad grabbed his keys.
Officer Collins called at the same moment.
“Daniel, do not go alone.”
Dad ignored her.
He looked at me.
“Get in the car.”
I did.
We raced toward Lily’s school.
Three blocks away, Dad’s phone rang.
It was the principal.
Lily was safe.
But Amanda wasn’t gone.
May you like
She was standing across the street from the school.
Waiting.
