My Stepfamily Moved In… Weeks Later, My Cat Was Dead

Dad sat down hard on the shed floor.

"No."

I took the page from his hands.

"You knew Vanessa before Mom died?"

He looked stunned. "Barely. She worked with your mother for a few months at the clinic. That's all."

I stared at him. "You told me you met her two years ago."

"I did. I mean, really met her. Your mom introduced us once at a holiday party. I forgot."

Caleb leaned against the wall. "My mom never forgot."

Dad looked up. "What does that mean?"

Caleb swallowed. "She used to talk about this house before we moved in. She knew the layout. She knew which room had been your wife's office. I thought you told her."

Dad's face changed.

My mother, Rachel, had died in a highway collision when I was thirteen. Police said another driver lost control in bad weather and hit her car. The other driver was never identified.

For years, I had accepted the word accident because I had been a kid and adults had told me to.

Now I was holding a letter that made the word feel rotten.

"We need the police," I said.

Dad nodded.

Vanessa appeared in the shed doorway.

None of us had heard her approach.

Her eyes dropped to the page in my hand.

Then to Caleb.

"What did you do?"

Caleb stepped behind me.

Dad stood. "Vanessa, why did Rachel write your name?"

She laughed once, sharp and humorless. "Because your first wife was paranoid."