Chapter 10
Diane remained in custody.
The judge called her violation of the protective order “immediate and deliberate.”
For the first time since the barbecue, I slept for more than four hours.
Not because everything was fixed.
Because I knew where Diane was.
That realization made me feel guilty.
Then angry that I felt guilty.
My therapist told me fear didn’t make me cruel.
Yes.
I had one now too.
Her name was Dr. Harris.
Maya had practically pushed me into making the appointment.
At first, I told Dr. Harris I was there because Lily needed me strong.
She asked, “Who told you strength means handling everything alone?”
I almost laughed.
Then I cried for twenty minutes.
Lily also began seeing a child therapist.
Her therapist used drawings and dolls.
No porcelain ones.
Lily made sure of that.
One afternoon she came out of her appointment holding a picture.
Three people stood beneath a giant yellow sun.
Me.
Lily.
Jason.
Far away in one corner was a tiny gray figure behind a square.
I knew immediately who it was.
“Is that Grandma?”
Lily nodded.
“She’s far away.”
“How does that make you feel?”
“Safe.”
One word.
It mattered more than everything else.
Jason continued therapy.
He also moved into a small apartment ten minutes from our house.
Not his parents’ guest house.
Not Robert’s house.
His own place.
When he gave me the address, I asked, “Why there?”
“It’s close enough for Lily.”
Then he added quickly, “Not close enough to pressure you.”
I appreciated that.
I hated that I appreciated it.
The permanent protective-order hearing came the next week.
Diane appeared by video from jail.
She looked smaller.
Older.
Her attorney tried to make the barbecue sound like a family disagreement that got out of control.
Then the prosecutor played the neighbor’s security footage.
The courtroom went silent.
On the screen, Diane’s hand twisted into Lily’s hair.
My daughter stumbled.
Diane dragged her.
Shoved her.
Then the audio played.
You should have disappeared before your mother ever brought you home.
I stopped breathing.
Hearing it again was worse.
Jason covered his face.
Robert stared straight ahead.
Emily cried.
Even Diane’s attorney looked uncomfortable.
Then the video showed me running toward them.
It showed Diane swinging first.
The judge watched all of it.
When the lights came back on, Diane didn’t look at me.
The order was granted for five years, the longest period available under the circumstances without renewal.
No contact with me.
No contact with Lily.
No school.
No home.
No third-party messages.
No gifts.
No approaching us in public.
I should have felt relief.
Instead, Diane spoke.
“Your Honor?”
Her lawyer touched her arm.
She ignored him.
“I need to say something to my granddaughter.”
The judge’s expression hardened.
“No.”
“But—”
“No.”
Diane’s face changed.
She wasn’t used to being told that word.
The judge continued.
“You are specifically prohibited from communicating with the child.”
Diane looked at me then.
Pure hatred.
It frightened me.
But only for a second.
Then two deputies moved beside her.
She had no power in that room.
The investigation into the false DNA report expanded quickly.
Detectives interviewed the original laboratory.
The lab’s director confirmed Marlene Price had worked there seven years earlier.
She had been a senior technician.
She had also been fired two years later for unrelated recordkeeping violations.
No one knew where she was.
Until Detective Ruiz called me on a Thursday afternoon.
“We found her.”
My stomach dropped.
“Where?”
“New Mexico.”
“Did she confess?”
“Not yet.”
“What did she say?”
“That she wants a lawyer.”
I closed my eyes.
“Of course.”
Ruiz hesitated.
“There’s something else.”
“What?”
“The lab recovered archived access logs.”
I sat down.
“What do they show?”
“Marlene opened Lily’s case file three times after the official result was finalized.”
“Was that normal?”
“No.”
“She changed it?”
“We can’t prove that from the logs alone.”
I thought of Diane’s letter.
Make sure the probability says 0%.
“You have the letter.”
“Yes.”
“And the emails.”
“Yes.”
“And Karen’s confession.”
“Yes.”
Ruiz sounded almost satisfied.
“The walls are getting smaller.”
That evening, Robert asked to meet me.
We sat outside a small restaurant.
He looked exhausted.
“I filed for divorce.”
“I heard.”
He nodded.
“Diane’s attorney says I’m abandoning her in a crisis.”
“What do you think?”
“I think the crisis is finally making me see my marriage clearly.”
I studied him.
“Why did you let her control everything?”
He smiled sadly.
“Because surrender is quieter than conflict.”
That stayed with me.
He continued.
“She made every decision sound temporary.”
Where we lived.
Who handled money.
Which relatives we saw.
What business choices they made.
Then suddenly forty-one years had passed.
“I’m not asking you to forgive me for missing what she did to Lily.”
“I know.”
“I just want to help fix what I can.”
He handed me a folder.
Inside were financial records.
One account was labeled T.C. BENEFICIARY HOLDING.
Transfers went from it to Diane-controlled companies.
Hundreds of thousands.
Then I noticed one transaction from only six months earlier.
$125,000.
Recipient:
M. PRICE CONSULTING.
I looked up.
“Marlene Price?”
Robert nodded.
“That’s what I thought.”
My heart pounded.
Diane hadn’t just paid Marlene seven years earlier.
May you like
She had still been paying her.
Which meant the conspiracy might not be finished.
