Chapter 2
The name blurred in my hands.
Claire Whitman.
Dead Claire.
Buried Claire.
The woman Ryan could barely speak about without lowering his eyes.
Except the prescription was current.
Filled last month.
I looked at him.
“Why is your dead wife’s medicine in our house?”
Ryan’s mouth opened.
No words came.
Diane moved again toward the door.
The officer blocked her.
“Stay where you are.”
Lily’s chest pulled hard with each breath.
I forgot Ryan.
Forgot Diane.
Forgot every lie.
I climbed into the ambulance with my daughter and held her foot because that was the only part of her the paramedics let me touch.
At the hospital, doctors moved fast.
They asked what she swallowed.
I gave them the bottle.
A doctor frowned.
“This is a sedating medication. It is dangerous for a child.”
My knees weakened.
A nurse caught my elbow.
“How much did she take?”
“I don’t know.”
“How often?”
I covered my mouth.
“I don’t know.”
That answer nearly killed me.
Lily slept with oxygen taped to her tiny face.
A social worker named Maren arrived.
Then a detective.
Then more questions.
Did Diane babysit often?
Yes.
Did Lily sleep heavily at night?
Yes.
Had I noticed unusual drowsiness?
I thought she was tired.
I thought she was growing.
I thought home was safe.
Ryan texted me before midnight.
Please don’t talk about Claire. It will only confuse things.
I showed Detective Alvarez.
His face hardened.
“Mrs. Bennett, do you know where Claire Whitman is buried?”
“No.”
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“Did you ever see a death certificate?”
“No.”
