Chapter 2
The police asked Sophie questions while I sat beside her.
She would not let go of my hand.
Every time Rachel screamed outside, Sophie flinched.
One officer noticed.
His voice softened.
“Has Rachel hurt you before?”
Sophie looked at me.
I nodded.
“It’s okay, baby.”
Her lip trembled.
“When Daddy goes work.”
My stomach dropped.
“What does she do?”
Sophie whispered, “Closet.”
I stood so fast the officer followed me.
“Which closet?”
Sophie pointed down the hallway.
I opened the hall closet.
Inside, under coats, I found a blanket.
A plastic cup.
A granola wrapper.
And Sophie’s stuffed bunny.
The one I thought she had lost.
I could barely breathe.
Rachel had been locking my daughter in there.
In my own house.
While I sat in meetings.
While I answered emails.
While I believed my wife was “adjusting” to stepmotherhood.
The officer took photos.
Sophie whispered, “She says Mommy Laura left because I was bad.”
My knees almost gave out.
Laura was Sophie’s mother.
My first wife.
Dead three years.
Rachel had used my daughter’s dead mother as a weapon.
I wanted to run outside.
I wanted to scream.
Instead, I held Sophie.
Because rage had already done enough tonight.
The officer asked, “Do you have cameras inside?”
“No.”
Then Sophie pointed at the bookshelf.
“Bear sees.”
I turned.
A teddy bear sat near the picture frames.
Laura had bought it before she died.
I picked it up.
One eye had a tiny lens.
My blood went cold.
May you like
Laura had left a camera.
And Rachel never knew.
