Chapter 1 - THE NAME MY THREE-YEAR-OLD SHOULDN’T HAVE KNOWN
My mother-in-law ripped my daughter’s stuffed rabbit out of her hands and threw it across the living room.
Maisie screamed.
“She doesn’t belong in this family,” Lenora said.
My three-year-old reached for me so fast she nearly tripped over her pale-blue pajama legs.
I caught her and pulled her against my chest.
“She’s three years old!”
Lenora stood perfectly composed in her burgundy dress and pearls.
That was what made it worse.
This wasn’t an impulsive outburst.
She had driven forty minutes to our house carrying something in her pocket and apparently intending to say exactly what she had said.
I stood with Maisie behind me.
“Stay away from my daughter.”
The front door opened.
My husband came in carrying his laptop bag.
Evan took one look at his mother and stopped.
Not confused.
Afraid.
Lenora noticed.
“So,” she said. “You still haven’t told her.”
“Told me what?”
Neither answered.
Maisie whimpered into my blouse.
Lenora slowly removed a faded photograph from her dress pocket.
A blond little girl stood beside an old stone fountain.
Maybe six.
Maybe seven.
Around her neck hung a silver pendant shaped like a rabbit.
My stomach tightened.
Maisie wore the same pendant.
I had assumed it belonged to Evan’s grandmother.
He gave it to Maisie two months ago and said only that it was “family.”
Lenora held the photograph toward him.
“Ask your husband what happened to Abigail.”
Evan took it.
His face went white.
I looked from him to Maisie.
“What happened to who?”
Nobody answered.
Then Maisie lifted her head from my shoulder.
She stared at the photograph.
Her crying stopped.
She wriggled down.
“Maisie?”
She stepped closer.
Pointed directly at the little girl.
“That’s Abby.”
Lenora went completely still.
I looked at Evan.
My husband looked terrified.
I crouched beside our daughter.
“Sweetheart, how do you know Abby?”
Evan immediately said, “Tessa—”
“No.”
I held up one hand.
For once, I wasn’t letting him redirect me.
I asked Maisie again.
“Who is Abby?”
Maisie smiled faintly.
“Daddy’s friend.”
The room seemed to tilt.
I looked at my husband.
“How does our three-year-old know a woman you’ve never mentioned to me?”
Evan closed his eyes.
Lenora whispered, “You took Maisie to her?”
That was when I understood the first piece.
Whatever Abigail had done—
whatever had happened to her—
May you like
my husband knew she wasn’t just a dead girl in an old photograph.
He knew exactly where she was.
