Chapter 6 - The Whisper in the Dark
Jill’s house was a warm, bright contrast to the horror on Sycamore Lane, but the tension inside was thick enough to choke on.
It was nearly 3:00 a.m. when I let myself through her back door. Jill had left the porch light on. The smell of cinnamon tea hung in the air.
Jill was sitting at her kitchen island, wearing an oversized fleece robe, clutching a mug with both hands. Her hair was pulled into a messy bun, and the dark circles under her eyes made her look ten years older.
“They’re in the spare bedroom,” she whispered immediately, standing up to pull me into a tight, fierce hug. “Eli cried until his nose bled, but he finally passed out around two. Lucy won't sleep. She’s sitting on the edge of the mattress like a sentry.”
I buried my face in Jill’s shoulder for three seconds, letting the horror of the last four hours crack my spine, before pulling back. I couldn't break down. Not yet.
“Derek cleared the accounts, Jill,” I said, my voice flat, deadened by shock. “The savings. The college fund. The home equity line. He took over a hundred thousand dollars.”
Jill’s hand flew to her mouth. “Oh my God. Mara... how?”
“He forged my name. He’s been planning this for weeks. Maybe months.” I ran a trembling hand through my hair. “He told me to ask you what to do next. He said I wouldn't even be able to pay the electric bill by Monday.”
Jill stared at me, her eyes wide with terror and rage. “He’s sick. Mara, that’s criminal. That’s grand larceny. You have to call the sheriff right now.”
“I will. But first... I need to see Lucy.”
I walked down the carpeted hallway of Jill’s guest wing, my boots making no sound. The door to the back bedroom was cracked an inch. A soft sliver of golden light from a bedside lamp fell across the floor.
I pushed the door open gently.
Eli was curled into a tight ball under the heavy floral quilt, his thumb tucked near his lips—a habit he had abandoned when he was five, now resurrected by pure terror. His breath was shallow, hitching occasionally in his sleep.
Lucy was sitting against the headboard, her knees pulled to her chest, her arms wrapped around her shins. She was wearing one of Jill’s college sweatshirts, three sizes too big, swallowing her thin frame. Her eyes were red-rimmed, staring blankly at the wall.
When she saw me, her chin trembled.
“Mom.”
I crossed the room in two strides, sitting down on the edge of the mattress, and pulled her into my arms. She stiffened for a second, then collapsed against my chest, her shoulders shaking with silent, desperate sobs.
“I’ve got you,” I whispered into her hair, kissing the crown of her head over and over. “I’ve got you, Luce. You’re safe. I’m right here.”
“He’s going to take Eli,” she wept, her fingers digging into the fabric of my sweater. “Mom, he told me. At the diner. He said if I made a scene, he’d tell the judge that you were crazy and that you abandoned us first.”
I pulled back slightly, holding her face between my palms. “What did he say to you, Lucy? Word for word. Tell me everything.”
Lucy swallowed, wiping her nose on the oversized sleeve of the sweatshirt. She glanced at Eli to make sure he was still sleeping, then leaned in close, her voice a fragile whisper.
“When he dropped us off at the diner at six forty... he wasn't alone, Mom.”
My heart stopped. “What do you mean?”
“There was a woman in the passenger seat,” Lucy said. “She had dark hair and big sunglasses, even though it was already getting dark outside. She stayed in the truck while Dad walked us inside.”
The floral perfume.
“Did you see her face?”
“A little bit. When Dad gave me the twenty-six dollars, he told me to order whatever Eli wanted. He said he had to go to a meeting with her. And then... and then Eli dropped his action figure under the booth, and when I bent down to pick it up, I heard Dad talking to her outside the diner window.”
“What did he say, Lucy?”
Lucy looked down at her hands, her fingers twisting the hem of the blanket.
“He told her, *‘The money’s already in the offshore account. Once I drop the kids, we have twelve hours before Mara even realizes she’s broke.’*”
The room seemed to tilt beneath me.
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“And then,” Lucy whispered, her eyes filling with fresh tears, “the woman laughed. She said, *‘Make sure the little pests don't have their phones, Derek. I don't want the police tracking us until we hit the state line.’* That’s why Dad took my phone, Mom. He told me the battery was swelling and he had to fix it in the truck. He stole my phone so I couldn't call you.”
***
