Chapter 2 - The Night Rachel Died
I carried Sophia out of the ballroom.
My mother followed.
“Daniel, don't do this here.”
I turned so sharply she stopped.
“Do what?”
“Confuse a frightened child with questions she can't understand.”
“You haven't answered mine.”
Guests were beginning to watch from the ballroom doors.
Victoria lowered her voice.
“Rachel's death was investigated.”
It had been.
Rachel had died at my mother's Clayton home after falling down a narrow rear staircase.
I was in Chicago that night for work.
Sophia was sleeping over.
Victoria told investigators Rachel had arrived unexpectedly to pick up something she'd left after Sunday dinner. According to my mother, Rachel went upstairs alone, slipped, and fell.
Sophia had supposedly slept through everything.
I believed it because the alternative required believing my mother capable of something I couldn't imagine.
Sophia buried her face against me.
“Sweetheart, what did Grandma wash?”
Victoria interrupted.
“She needs rest.”
“Stop answering for her.”
Mrs. Palmer, my mother's sister, appeared behind Victoria.
Her expression made me pause.
She wasn't confused.
She looked frightened.
That frightened me more.
I took Sophia upstairs to my hotel suite.
Once she'd eaten slowly and washed her face, I asked when she'd last had a proper meal.
“Yesterday.”
I stared at her.
I sent my mother $2,400 every month while Sophia stayed with her during my busiest work periods.
Food.
Clothes.
Childcare.
Whatever Sophia needed.
“Why didn't Grandma feed you?”
“She said I was bad.”
“What did you do?”
Sophia looked toward the door.
“I asked about Mommy's bracelet.”
I knew the bracelet.
A thin silver chain with a small blue stone. Rachel wore it almost every day.
It had never been recovered after her death.
“What about it?”
Sophia leaned closer.
“I know where Grandma put it.”
And now two things were missing from the story I'd accepted for eleven months.
May you like
My wife's bracelet.
And whatever my daughter had watched my mother wash away.
