Chapter 2 - Thirty-Seven Days
Daniel sat on the edge of his bed with the notebook open across his knees.
Thirty-seven dates.
Some had only one sentence.
“Emma did not get dinner.”
“Rachel locked the playroom.”
“Emma cried for Mommy.”
Daniel’s chest tightened at that one.
Rachel had moved in six months ago after losing her apartment.
She cooked.
Picked the kids up.
Stayed late when Daniel worked.
Told him not to worry.
He had thanked her constantly.
Now Noah stood in front of him twisting the hem of his pajama shirt.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I tried.”
“When?”
“You said Aunt Rachel was stressed.”
Daniel remembered.
A month earlier.
Noah had said, “I don’t like when you work late.”
Daniel had answered, “Rachel is helping us. Be patient.”
“Buddy.”
Noah looked down.
“I’m sorry.”
Daniel’s heart broke.
“You are eight.”
Noah’s chin trembled.
“She pulls Emma when Emma doesn’t listen.”
Daniel closed the notebook.
“What else?”
Noah whispered, “She makes us practice what to say before you come home.”
Daniel froze.
“What do you mean?”
“If Emma cries, we say she missed Mommy.”
“If I get mad, we say I had a bad day at school.”
Daniel felt sick.
Rachel had not simply hidden bad behavior.
He asked, “Did she ever hurt you?”
Noah looked at the floor.
“Not like Emma.”
That was not an answer.
Daniel did not push.
He called Megan Holt, a child therapist Laura had once known.
Then he called his father.
Then his attorney.
Rachel.
He almost ignored it.
Then he read the message.
You need to check Noah’s room before you decide who the liar is.
Daniel looked toward the hallway.
Noah’s door was open.
His son was asleep.
Daniel stepped inside.
On the top shelf of the closet, behind a stack of board games, he found a sealed envelope with his name written on it.
May you like
Inside were four hundred dollars in cash.
And one of Rachel’s gold bracelets.
