Chapter 5 - THE FILE WITH MY NAME ON IT
We did not plug the drive into our home computer.
The detective took it to the station, made a forensic copy, and let us view the contents on an isolated machine.
There were eleven folders.
One carried my name.
Inside were screenshots of private text messages between me and my sister. Copies of emails I had sent my attorney years earlier while updating my will. Photographs of our bank statements. Even a picture of my passport.
"How did she get these?" I whispered.
Mark looked sick.
Then we opened the next folder.
LILY.
I stopped breathing.
There were notes.
Not photographs. Not videos.
Notes about my daughter's behavior.
CRIES WHEN DENIED FOOD.
AFRAID OF DARK HALLWAY.
BECOMES COMPLIANT AFTER ISOLATION.
TELLS CLAIRE EVERYTHING UNLESS WARNED.
My hands began to shake.
Rachel whispered, "Oh my God."
The detective immediately stopped us from opening more files until a child-crimes investigator could review them.
Mark slammed his fist against the table.
"My mother wrote this about my little girl?"
I remembered Lily saying, "Grandma said I wasn't supposed to celebrate with the family."
It suddenly sounded less like one cruel sentence and more like part of something practiced.
The investigator asked us a painful question.
"How often has Diane been alone with Lily?"
Too often.
I wanted to throw up.
Then the detective opened another folder.
MARK.
Inside were scanned copies of his signature in dozens of sizes and formats.
Practice sheets.
My husband sat down hard.
"She has been planning this."
The detective nodded. "For a while."
At the bottom of the drive was a spreadsheet labeled FAMILY LEVERAGE.
Rows of names filled the screen.
Mine.
Mark's.
Rachel's.
My parents'.
Even Lily's.
Beside each name was a weakness Diane believed she could use.
May you like
And beside Rachel's name was a note that made my sister turn white.
WEDDING PAYMENT — DO NOT LET HER DISCOVER SOURCE.
