Chapter 4
Detective Ruiz had officers at my mother’s house within twelve minutes.
Thomas Mercer was gone.
But he had left something behind.
A small wooden rabbit.
It sat on the front step.
One ear broken.
My mother refused to touch it.
When Ruiz showed me the photograph, Maisie saw it from across the room.
Her reaction was instant.
She screamed.
Not cried.
Screamed.
She threw her stuffed rabbit and climbed into my lap.
“No old bunny!”
I held her tightly.
“What is it, baby?”
“No bad man bunny!”
Ruiz took the photograph away.
That was the first time I stopped believing Grant was the only danger.
Until then, I had built a simple story in my head.
Grant had frightened Maisie.
Grant had lied.
Grant had manipulated Vanessa.
Grant was the monster.
Simple stories are comforting.
Real monsters rarely come one at a time.
My mother arrived at the station under police escort.
She looked ten years older than she had the last time I saw her.
The moment she saw Maisie, she dropped to her knees.
“Oh, sweetheart.”
Maisie ran to her.
For thirty seconds, none of us spoke.
Then my mother looked at me.
“I’m sorry.”
I had waited decades for apologies I never knew I deserved.
Now I did not want one.
“I need the truth.”
She nodded.
Her name was Margaret Morgan.
Before she married my father, she had been Margaret Ellis.
Claire Ellis was her younger sister.
Claire had been four years old in the summer of 1997.
I frowned.
“That doesn’t make sense.”
“What?”
“You said she was your sister. I was nine in 1997. How was your sister four?”
My mother looked down.
“Because Claire was adopted.”
I stared at her.
“Our parents took her in late in life.”
“Why?”
“She was the daughter of a family friend who died.”
“Who?”
My mother’s hands started shaking.
“Daniel Mercer’s wife.”
The room went silent.
Ruiz leaned forward.
“So Claire was Daniel Mercer’s daughter?”
“No.”
My mother shook her head.
“At least, we didn’t think so.”
“Explain.”
“Daniel’s wife, Rebecca, had Claire before she married him. Nobody knew who Claire’s biological father was.”
“And when Rebecca died?”
“My parents became Claire’s guardians.”
“How did she die?”
“Car accident.”
Ruiz wrote something.
“And Daniel remained in Claire’s life?”
“Yes.”
“He said he loved her like his own daughter.”
My mother laughed bitterly.
“We believed him.”
“What happened in 1997?”
She looked at me.
“You and I were staying with my parents that summer. Your father had been dead three years. I was struggling. They helped me with you.”
I remembered pieces now.
A white porch.
Hot nights.
A swing.
A girl with yellow ribbons.
Claire.
My chest hurt.
“She played with me.”
My mother nodded.
“You loved her.”
Images came faster.
Two little hands holding mine.
Mud between bare toes.
A red bucket.
A song I could not remember.
“What happened?”
“Daniel came around constantly.”
“Why?”
“He said Claire should know him.”
“And Thomas?”
“Thomas was worse.”
“How?”
My mother stared at the table.
“He believed Rebecca had cheated on Daniel.”
“Had she?”
“I don’t know.”
“He blamed Claire?”
“Yes.”
My stomach turned.
“A four-year-old?”
“He called her a mistake.”
Ruiz’s jaw tightened.
My mother continued.
“One afternoon, Claire disappeared.”
“When?”
“July second.”
The date on the cassette.
“Who was there?”
“My parents. Me. You. Daniel. Thomas.”
“And Grant?”
My mother closed her eyes.
“Yes.”
I stared at her.
“Twelve-year-old Grant was there?”
“Yes.”
“What happened?”
“We searched for hours.”
“The well?”
“There was an old well behind the property.”
My skin crawled.
“Did you find her there?”
“No.”
“But the tape—”
“Daniel told police Claire had been playing near it. He suggested she might have fallen inside.”
“Did they search it?”
“Yes.”
“Nothing?”
“Nothing.”
“Then why was everyone talking about the well?”
“Because they wanted police looking there instead of somewhere else.”
“Where?”
“I don’t know.”
I slammed my palm against the table.
“You keep saying that!”
Maisie startled.
I immediately lowered my voice.
“Sorry, baby.”
My mother cried silently.
“I was twenty-eight. I was terrified. Daniel controlled half the town through his construction company. Thomas worked for the sheriff’s department.”
Ruiz looked up.
“He was law enforcement?”
“Deputy.”
That explained too much.
“What did you see?” Ruiz asked.
My mother hesitated.
“I saw Daniel carrying Claire toward the woods.”
“Alive?”
“Yes.”
“You’re certain?”
“She was crying.”
I felt sick.
“What did he tell you?”
“That he was helping search.”
“You believed him?”
“For ten minutes.”
“Then?”
“I found Claire’s shoe near his truck.”
Ruiz leaned forward.
“What did you do?”
“I confronted him.”
“And?”
“Thomas appeared.”
My mother rubbed her arms as though she could still feel his hands.
“He told me to forget what I saw.”
“Did he threaten you?”
“Yes.”
“With what?”
“You.”
My mother looked at me.
“He said children disappear easily.”
My throat closed.
“You never went to police?”
“I did.”
“To who?”
“Thomas’s supervisor.”
“And?”
“The statement disappeared.”
Ruiz asked, “Do you remember the supervisor’s name?”
“Yes.”
“Who?”
“Sheriff Walter Keene.”
Ruiz’s face changed.
“You know him?”
She did not answer immediately.
“Walter Keene is still alive.”
My mother looked shocked.
“He’d be almost ninety.”
“Eighty-seven.”
“Where?”
“Briar County.”
I felt the old world reaching into the present.
The same names.
The same county.
The same silence.
“What about Grant?” I asked. “What did he see?”
My mother’s eyes shifted away.
“I don’t know.”
“You said he was there.”
“He was.”
“Did he talk to me?”
“Yes.”
I felt something inside me break open.
A memory surfaced.
A boy on the porch.
Brown hair.
Thin arms.
Blood on one knee.
Grant.
Not as my husband.
As a child.
He had given me a glass of lemonade.
He had told me not to go into the woods.
I stood.
“Oh my God.”
Ruiz watched me.
“You remember him.”
I nodded slowly.
“I knew him.”
My mother whispered, “Only for a few days.”
“But I knew him.”
“Yes.”
“Why didn’t I remember?”
“Trauma does strange things.”
“And you let me marry him.”
“I thought he didn’t remember you.”
I laughed.
“That was your plan?”
“I asked him privately after your engagement.”
My heart stopped.
“You confronted Grant?”
“Yes.”
“What did he say?”
“He claimed he had no memory of that summer.”
“Did you believe him?”
“I wanted to.”
Of course.
Everyone had wanted to believe.
Because believing was easier than opening the grave.
Detective Ruiz asked, “What happened after Claire disappeared?”
“My parents sold the house. We moved. Daniel moved his family six months later. The case went cold.”
“And you?”
“I changed our last name after I remarried. I stopped talking about Claire.”
“What happened to your parents?”
“My father died in 2001. My mother died in 2004.”
“And Daniel?”
“Vanished from my life until Evelyn’s wedding.”
A chill ran through me.
“He recognized me.”
My mother nodded.
“Yes.”
“Why didn’t he stop the wedding?”
“I don’t know.”
Ruiz did.
“Maybe he thought it was safer to keep you close.”
Nobody spoke.
Maisie was stacking plastic blocks in the corner.
She suddenly picked up the blue one.
“Pool.”
I looked at her.
“What?”
She placed the block inside a toy cup.
“Daddy water.”
My body stiffened.
Ruiz slowly moved closer.
“Tell me about Daddy water.”
Maisie shook her head.
“No.”
“That’s okay.”
Maisie put the toy rabbit beside the cup.
“Bunny swim.”
Vanessa, who had been silent near the wall, covered her mouth.
I turned.
“What?”
She looked at me.
“The water tank.”
“What water tank?”
“In the upstairs playroom.”
I remembered seeing a tall glass container when I ran toward Maisie’s bedroom.
I thought it was an aquarium.
Vanessa whispered, “Grant bought it two weeks ago.”
“For what?”
“He said it was for a sensory game.”
A sensory game.
My stomach twisted.
“How deep?”
“Too deep for Maisie.”
Ruiz stood immediately.
“Was it still in the house yesterday?”
“Yes.”
One detective left the room.
I turned on Vanessa.
“You knew?”
“I never saw him put her in it.”
“But you knew it was there.”
“Yes.”
“Why didn’t you call me?”
“I thought I could control him.”
“You thought wrong.”
“I know.”
Her eyes filled.
“I know.”
My mother suddenly said, “That’s what Claire used to call it.”
We all turned.
“What?”
“The well.”
She stared at Maisie.
“Claire called it the swimming hole because she couldn’t say well.”
My skin prickled.
Different child.
Different generation.
Same water.
Ruiz’s phone rang.
She answered.
Listened.
Then her face hardened.
“What?”
She walked to the far end of the room.
“Yes. Preserve everything.”
She ended the call.
I stood.
“What did they find?”
“The tank.”
“And?”
“Water.”
“Of course there’s water.”
Ruiz looked at me.
“And fingerprints on the outside.”
“Whose?”
“Grant’s.”
My breath caught.
“That proves he touched it.”
“Not enough.”
“What else?”
Her expression changed.
“Small fingerprints on the inside.”
The room disappeared around me.
I heard my mother gasp.
Vanessa began crying.
I walked toward the wall because my legs no longer felt trustworthy.
Ruiz continued carefully.
“They’re being processed.”
“You know they’re Maisie’s.”
“We need confirmation.”
I looked at my daughter.
She was humming.
Building blocks.
Trying to be three.
I whispered, “He put her in it.”
Ruiz said nothing.
My phone buzzed.
Unknown number.
I opened the message.
One photograph.
A forest.
An old stone well.
And a sentence.
YOU SHOULD HAVE LEFT 1997 BURIED.
Ruiz took the phone.
“Don’t touch anything else.”
Another message arrived.
THIS TIME THE CHILD WON’T COME BACK.
My blood froze.
Across the room, Maisie suddenly looked toward the window.
Her face changed.
She pointed.
“Old man.”
Everyone turned.
There was no one there.
Then a car engine roared outside.
Ruiz sprinted for the door.
Two officers followed.
By the time they reached the parking lot, the vehicle was gone.
But the security camera captured the driver.
When Ruiz returned, she held her phone in front of my mother.
“Is this Thomas Mercer?”
My mother stared.
Then slowly shook her head.
“No.”
I felt relief for exactly one second.
May you like
Then she whispered,
“That’s Daniel.”
