Chapter 1 - The Girl Who Wouldn’t Wake Up
My six-year-old son was standing in the middle of his mother’s living room holding a pillow when he told me his little sister hadn’t eaten in three days.
I had come to Delaney’s East Nashville rental because my meeting in Atlanta ended early.
I wasn’t supposed to be back until Sunday night.
Their mother had texted me Thursday morning that she was taking Micah and Elsie to her mother’s place near Center Hill Lake.
Enjoy the quiet weekend, she wrote.
I almost went directly home.
Instead, I stopped at Delaney’s because Elsie’s stuffed rabbit was still in the back seat of my car.
She never slept well without it.
The front door was unlocked.
“Delaney?”
Nothing.
Then Micah appeared.
Barefoot.
Hair tangled.
A small pillow clutched against his chest.
His face changed when he saw me.
Not happiness.
Relief.
“Dad?”
I dropped my keys.
“Buddy, where’s Mom?”
He started crying.
Then he whispered:
“Dad… Elsie won’t wake up, and we haven’t eaten in three days.”
I ran.
Elsie was curled on the worn floral couch beneath a thin blanket.
Pink pajamas.
Messy blonde hair.
Her skin looked pale.
I touched her cheek.
“Elsie?”
Nothing.
I touched her shoulder gently.
Her eyelids fluttered but did not open.
My entire body went cold.
I lifted her carefully into both arms.
She felt frighteningly light.
Micah stayed beside me.
“Did she fall?”
He shook his head.
“Did she take medicine?”
“I don’t know.”
“What did you eat?”
“Cereal.”
“When?”
He looked toward the kitchen.
“The first day.”
I crossed the room with Elsie against my chest.
The refrigerator stood open.
Almost empty.
A bottle of mustard.
Half a carton of milk that smelled sour.
Two juice boxes.
No actual food.
Dirty children’s cups sat in the sink.
An empty cereal box lay on the counter.
“Where is your mother, Micah?”
His expression changed.
He looked toward the front door.
“She told us not to call you… no matter what happened.”
My knees almost gave out.
I called 911.
While I gave the dispatcher the address, Micah followed me through the house like he was afraid I might vanish too.
Then the front door opened.
Delaney stepped inside.
Expensive sunglasses on her head.
Cream travel jacket.
Designer handbag.
A glossy gold resort wristband around her wrist.
She stopped when she saw me holding Elsie.
For half a second, none of us moved.
Then she said, “What are you doing here?”
I stared at her.
Not:
What happened to Elsie?
Not:
Are the kids okay?
What are you doing here?
Micah pointed.
“Dad…”
Delaney instinctively hid her wrist behind her handbag.
A plastic hotel keycard slipped from the bag and hit the floor.
Micah looked at it.
Then at the gold bracelet.
“That’s the bracelet Mom wore when she said she was at the lake.”
Delaney’s face lost color.
Sirens were already coming down the street.
I looked from the keycard to my ex-wife.
Three days earlier, she had sent me a photograph of Center Hill Lake.
Blue water.
A dock.
The message underneath said:
Kids are having the best time.
Micah was staring at his mother now.
He looked confused.
May you like
I understood why before he did.
The photograph had been a lie.
