Chapter 15 - The Laundry Room
I drove to the school so fast I barely remember the route.
The counselor met me at the office.
Lily was playing with blocks.
Safe.
Smiling.
That helped.
“Lily said there was one night she was told she could not sleep in the guest room.”
“When?”
“She thinks during summer.”
That was months ago.
“What happened?”
“She said Karen told her she had ‘ruined the bed’ because she spilled juice.”
I remembered the visit.
Karen had told me Lily fell asleep watching a movie.
Lily had been unusually quiet.
The counselor continued.
“She said she slept on a folded blanket near the laundry machines.”
My stomach turned.
“Alone?”
“Yes.”
“How long?”
“She doesn’t know.”
I wanted details.
Every detail.
The counselor stopped me.
She was right.
My daughter did not need her father turning memory into interrogation.
I sat with Lily later.
I asked, “Do you know you can tell me anything?”
“Yes.”
“And if you forget something and remember later?”
“I can tell you later.”
“And if someone says I’ll be mad?”
“You won’t.”
“Right.”
She hugged me.
That was enough.
But Karen’s hidden garage system had.
A hallway feed showed Karen carrying a blanket downstairs at 10:14 p.m.
At 6:03 the next morning, Lily walked upstairs wearing the same clothes.
No need.
Dad watched the clip once.
Not smart.
But human.
His knuckles bled.
I brought him ice.
“Yes.”
“In my house.”
“Yes.”
“I was asleep upstairs.”
“Yes.”
He looked at me.
“How do I live with that?”
He stared at me.
Then nodded.
That afternoon, prosecutors withdrew Karen’s plea offer.
New evidence meant new charges could be considered.
Her attorney blamed us.
Karen sent one message through counsel:
Lily lies for attention.
Dad read it.
His expression went dead calm.
May you like
Then he called Susan.
“I’m testifying.”
