Chapter 3
Diane tried to speak.
Nothing came out.
For the first time since I had known her, she looked trapped.
Not angry.
Not offended.
Afraid.
Michael held Lily’s stuffed rabbit in one hand.
The officer stood beside him.
I could see Michael trying to make the pieces fit inside his head.
The mother he had defended his entire life.
The woman who had raised him.
The grandmother he had trusted alone with our child.
And the tiny word written inside a dark closet.
MOMMY.
“Why is Bunny in there?” Michael asked.
Diane swallowed.
“I took it away because Lily was misbehaving.”
“You told us it was lost.”
“I forgot.”
Michael’s jaw tightened.
“You forgot?”
Diane looked toward the police officer.
“This is ridiculous. Taking away a toy is not abuse.”
“No one said it was,” the officer replied. “We’re trying to understand the situation.”
Diane pointed at me.
“She is poisoning everyone against me.”
I almost laughed.
Not because it was funny.
Because it was so predictable.
Everything was always someone else’s fault.
Michael looked at Lily.
“Princess, did Grandma put Bunny in the closet?”
Lily nodded.
“Did she put you in there too?”
Lily’s eyes filled with tears.
“Yes.”
Michael closed his eyes.
I could tell that answer broke something inside him.
The officer crouched a few feet from Lily.
He didn’t move closer.
“Hey, Lily. My name is Officer Grant. You don’t have to talk to me if you don’t want to, okay?”
Lily watched him cautiously.
He pointed toward the closet.
“Do you remember being in there today?”
She shook her head.
“Yesterday?”
Another shake.
“Do you remember when?”
Lily whispered, “When Mommy goes to work.”
My stomach turned.
I worked Tuesdays and Thursdays at a dental office.
Diane had started coming over those afternoons because daycare had become expensive.
I suddenly remembered how proud Michael had been.
“My mom loves helping,” he had said.
“She wants more time with Lily.”
How many Tuesdays?
How many Thursdays?
How many times had I kissed my daughter goodbye while Diane stood behind me smiling?
The thought made me sick.
One officer asked permission to photograph the closet and the items inside.
I agreed immediately.
Michael said nothing.
Diane objected.
“This is my son’s home.”
The officer looked at Michael.
Michael finally spoke.
“Take whatever pictures you need.”
Diane stared at him.
“Michael.”
He didn’t look at her.
A second officer separated us to take statements.
I sat with Lily in the kitchen while Michael spoke outside.
Through the window, I could see Diane talking fast.
Her hands moved constantly.
Michael stood several feet away from her.
His arms were crossed.
His face was unreadable.
I knew what she was doing.
She was telling him I was dramatic.
That I hated her.
That Lily was repeating things I had planted in her head.
Diane had spent years creating that story.
At birthdays, if I disagreed with her, I was sensitive.
At Christmas, if I wanted Lily home by bedtime, I was controlling.
If I asked her not to feed Lily candy before dinner, I was disrespectful.
If I wanted boundaries, I was trying to destroy their family.
Michael usually told me to ignore it.
“That’s just Mom.”
Three words that had protected Diane from consequences for years.
That’s just Mom.
Now our daughter was paying for it.
Lily rested against me.
“Are the police taking Grandma?”
“I don’t know.”
“Will she be mad?”
I looked at her.
“No one is allowed to hurt you because they’re mad.”
She was quiet.
Then she asked the question that destroyed me.
“Even Grandma?”
I hugged her.
“Even Grandma.”
Officer Grant returned.
“Mrs. Carter?”
“Yes?”
“Do you have somewhere you and your daughter can stay tonight?”
I stared at him.
“This is our house.”
“I understand. I’m asking because emotions are high, and your husband may need time to process—”
“No.”
My voice came out firmer than I expected.
“I’m not taking my daughter out of her own home because someone else abused her.”
He nodded.
“That’s fair.”
Michael walked back inside.
His eyes were red.
Diane remained outside near her SUV.
“What did she tell you?” I asked.
Michael rubbed both hands over his face.
“She says you’ve hated her for years.”
“Of course she does.”
“She says you coached Lily.”
I stared at him.
“And what do you say?”
He looked at our daughter.
“I don’t know what to think.”
The words cut.
I stood.
“You don’t know?”
“Sarah, I’m trying.”
“Our daughter just told you your mother locks her in a closet.”
“I know.”
“And you found her missing toy inside that closet.”
“I know.”
“And you still don’t know what to think?”
He raised his voice.
“I just found out my mother may have been hurting my daughter. Give me a second!”
Lily flinched.
Michael saw it.
His anger vanished instantly.
He crouched.
“I’m sorry, princess.”
Lily looked down.
He whispered, “Daddy isn’t mad at you.”
She nodded but didn’t move toward him.
That hurt him.
I could see it.
Before either of us could say more, Officer Grant came inside again.
“Mr. and Mrs. Carter, we have a problem.”
My chest tightened.
“What?”
“The exterior camera footage has been deleted.”
“I know,” I said.
Michael looked at me.
“You checked?”
“Yes. And the indoor feeds went offline right after Diane used her spare key to come back inside.”
Officer Grant looked at Michael.
“Who has administrator access to your security system?”
Michael hesitated.
“Me.”
“Anyone else?”
He looked toward the driveway.
“My mother.”
I stared at him.
“What?”
He wouldn’t meet my eyes.
“You gave her access?”
“It was for emergencies.”
“When?”
“A few months ago.”
“You never told me.”
“I forgot.”
I laughed bitterly.
“Everyone seems to forget important things today.”
“Sarah.”
“No. She knew exactly how to delete the footage because you gave her access.”
Officer Grant lifted a hand.
“We may still be able to recover deleted recordings through the provider.”
Diane heard that from outside.
I saw her head turn.
Just slightly.
But I noticed.
So did the officer.
He stepped outside.
Diane immediately headed toward her SUV.
“You’ll need to remain here a little longer, ma’am.”
“I have nothing else to say.”
“We may need additional information.”
“I’m leaving.”
“You are currently part of an active investigation.”
That stopped her.
Michael looked sick.
I turned toward him.
“Did your mother ever ask about the cameras?”
He thought.
“She complained about them.”
“When?”
“A few weeks after we installed them.”
“What did she say?”
“That having cameras inside made her uncomfortable.”
“Did she ask you to turn them off?”
His silence answered me.
“Michael.”
“Yes.”
“And did you?”
“Sometimes.”
My stomach sank.
“On Tuesdays and Thursdays?”
He looked at me.
I saw the answer before he said it.
“She said she didn’t like feeling watched while she babysat.”
I covered my mouth.
Diane hadn’t simply found opportunities.
She had created them.
She had asked for the cameras to be disabled on the exact days she was alone with Lily.
Then something occurred to me.
“Wait.”
I ran upstairs.
Michael followed.
“What?”
I opened the drawer beside our bed.
Inside was an old tablet.
We had used it as a baby monitor when Lily was younger.
I charged it occasionally because it still connected to our cloud account.
“What are you doing?”
“The security system isn’t the only camera.”
I turned on the tablet.
The screen took forever to load.
My hands shook.
Months earlier, after Lily started climbing out of bed at night, I had set an old baby camera on the bookshelf in her room.
We stopped checking it once she began sleeping better.
But I had never unplugged it.
I opened the monitoring app.
There were no recordings.
Only live video.
I almost threw the tablet down.
Then I noticed a notification folder.
Motion snapshots.
The app automatically saved still images when movement was detected.
Hundreds of them.
Most were useless.
Lily sleeping.
Lily playing.
Me changing sheets.
Michael reading bedtime stories.
Then I reached Tuesday afternoon.
Three weeks earlier.
My breath stopped.
There was an image of Diane standing in Lily’s room.
She was holding the stuffed rabbit.
Another image thirty seconds later.
Diane walking toward the door.
Lily following her.
Crying.
Michael leaned closer.
I swiped.
Another image.
Another.
Then one from the following Thursday.
Diane stood over Lily.
Her finger was pointed toward the little girl’s face.
Lily was backed against the wall.
Then came an image that made Michael stumble backward.
Diane was holding the wooden hairbrush.
Lily had both hands over her head.
“Oh my God,” Michael whispered.
I kept swiping.
More Tuesdays.
More Thursdays.
Lily crying.
Diane grabbing her arm.
Diane taking toys.
Diane dragging her toward the bedroom door.
Then one image was different.
It showed another person.
A man.
Standing in Lily’s doorway with Diane.
I zoomed in.
Michael leaned over my shoulder.
His face changed.
“No.”
I looked at him.
“You know him?”
He took the tablet from my hands.
The man was older.
Gray hair.
Heavy build.
I had seen him only twice before.
At Christmas.
And at Michael’s father’s funeral.
Michael whispered his name.
“Uncle Robert.”
My pulse quickened.
“What was he doing here?”
Michael didn’t answer.
I checked the date.
Thursday.
2:14 p.m.
I had been at work.
Michael had been downtown.
Diane had never mentioned having a visitor.
I swiped to the next image.
Robert was holding Lily’s stuffed rabbit.
The next snapshot showed Diane and Robert arguing.
Then Robert pointed toward the camera.
The following image was black.
I looked at Michael.
“Your mother knew about this camera too.”
He stared at the dark screen.
Then downstairs, Diane suddenly shouted.
“I want my lawyer.”
Officer Grant answered calmly.
“That’s your right.”
But Diane’s voice rose.
“And nobody touches my phone.”
I looked at Michael.
He looked at me.
For the first time, we had the exact same thought.
Her phone.
If Diane had been taking Lily somewhere.
If Robert had been visiting.
If she had planned when cameras were disabled.
There might be messages.
There might be photos.
There might be something much worse than what we already knew.
Officer Grant came upstairs.
I showed him the snapshots.
His expression became serious.
“We need copies.”
“You can have everything.”
Michael sat on the edge of the bed.
He looked destroyed.
Officer Grant studied the image of Robert.
“Who is this?”
“My uncle.”
“Full name?”
“Robert Keane.”
“Does he live nearby?”
“About fifteen minutes away.”
Officer Grant made a note.
“Has he ever babysat your daughter?”
Michael immediately said, “No.”
Then he stopped.
He looked at me.
I understood.
We had assumed no.
But we had also assumed Diane was safe.
Officer Grant went downstairs.
Michael remained seated.
“I’m sorry.”
I stared at him.
“For what?”
“For not listening.”
My anger wanted to explode.
But looking at him, I saw a father realizing his trust had helped put his child in danger.
“Don’t apologize to me yet,” I said.
“Apologize to Lily by believing her.”
He nodded.
Then a police officer shouted from downstairs.
“Officer Grant!”
We ran out.
Diane was standing near the front door.
Her purse was open.
Her phone was gone.
Officer Grant looked toward the driveway.
Robert’s truck had just disappeared around the corner.
Diane folded her arms.
“I told you nobody was touching my phone.”
My stomach dropped.
Michael stared at her.
“You gave it to Uncle Robert?”
Diane said nothing.
Michael stepped toward her.
“Mom, what is on that phone?”
For one second, fear flashed across her face.
May you like
Then she whispered words I would never forget.
“You don’t understand what that child has already ruined.”
