Chapter 5 - WHAT REBECCA HAD BEEN TRYING TO DO
Rebecca died on a rain-slick stretch of Merritt Parkway at 10:42 p.m. on a Thursday.
For eleven months, Margaret had believed she was driving home.
She wasn't.
Phone-location records obtained during the reopened investigation showed Rebecca had been heading north toward Fairfield.
Toward Margaret.
She never arrived.
Detective Ortiz did not tell Margaret what to conclude from that.
“Direction isn't motive.”
But Margaret already remembered the last conversation she had with her daughter.
Rebecca had called at 9:51.
Her voice sounded tired.
Not slurred.
Just defeated.
“Are you awake?”
“Of course.”
“Can Chloe and I stay with you for a few days?”
Margaret had looked at the clock.
She had an early appointment the next morning.
She asked whether they could talk first.
Rebecca went quiet.
Then said, “Never mind. Tomorrow.”
Margaret had spent eleven months blaming herself for those two words.
Now she learned Rebecca had left anyway.
Without Chloe.
Chloe had been home with Julian.
That fact disturbed Margaret more than she could explain.
If Rebecca intended to leave the marriage, why hadn't she taken her daughter?
The answer came from Rebecca’s bank.
Two weeks before her death, she had opened an individual checking account and moved $18,000 into it.
She also rented a small storage unit in Norwalk.
Not secretly enough to suggest an affair or escape.
Quietly enough to suggest preparation.
With police permission, Margaret was present when the unit was opened.
Inside were winter clothes, Chloe’s baby photographs, tax records, a laptop charger, two suitcases and a cardboard box marked SCHOOL.
No dramatic confession waited inside.
No perfect piece of evidence.
Only the ordinary belongings of a woman planning to live somewhere else.
At the bottom of the box Margaret found a stack of Chloe’s drawings.
Several showed cups colored purple.
One showed Rebecca lying on a couch while Julian stood beside her.
On the back, in Rebecca’s handwriting, were four words.
Ask pediatrician about sleepiness.
Margaret closed her eyes.
Rebecca had noticed.
Before anyone else.
Before the school.
Before Margaret.
That evening Chloe was discharged into Margaret’s temporary care.
On the drive home she watched the houses pass in silence.
Then she asked, “Is Daddy mad at me?”
“No.”
Margaret hated the lie immediately.
She corrected herself.
“Daddy may be upset about a lot of things. But none of this is because of you.”
Chloe pressed her rabbit against the window.
“Mommy used to say that.”
Margaret looked over.
“Say what?”
“That things weren't my fault.”
A few seconds passed.
Then Chloe added, “She said it after Daddy made her sleep.”
Margaret nearly missed the turn.
Instead of asking more questions, she kept driving.
A trained interviewer needed to speak with Chloe.
Not an angry grandmother.
May you like
But Margaret now understood something Rebecca had been trying to tell her before the crash.
The problem had started long before anyone placed Chloe inside a casket.
