Chapter 2 - The Woman at the DoorThe police officers didn't come inside immediately.
They asked me to step outside with Maisie.
I wrapped my daughter's blanket around her.
Her cheek was still red.
One officer crouched down.
“I'm Detective Harris.”
He didn't touch her.
He simply looked at me.
“Can you tell me what happened?”
I told him.
Everything.
The soup.
The slap.
Evan watching.
Margaret's words.
I expected him to interrupt.
He didn't.
When I finished, he asked one question.
“Has Margaret ever struck Maisie before?”
I hesitated.
“No.”
Then I remembered something.
Two weeks earlier, Maisie had come home from Margaret's house with a bruise on her upper arm.
Margaret had said she'd fallen.
I had believed her.
Because I wanted to.
“I don't know,” I whispered.
Detective Harris exchanged a glance with his partner.
“What does that mean?”
“I found a bruise.”
“When?”
“Two weeks ago.”
“Did you photograph it?”
“Yes.”
His expression became serious.
“Do you still have the photograph?”
I nodded.
Inside the house, Evan appeared at the doorway.
“Claire.”
I ignored him.
Detective Harris asked me to send him the photograph.
I did.
A few seconds later, his phone buzzed.
He looked at the screen.
Then his face changed.
“Mrs. Hale, I need you to understand something.”
“What?”
“This isn't the first complaint involving Margaret.”
My stomach dropped.
“What complaint?”
He glanced toward the house.
“There have been previous reports.”
I stared at him.
“About my daughter?”
“No.”
He paused.
“About children.”
I couldn't breathe.
“What children?”
He didn't answer immediately.
Instead, he asked:
“Does your husband know about Margaret's history?”
I looked toward Evan.
He was standing beside his mother.
Margaret was whispering something into his ear.
Then Evan looked directly at me.
His eyes were not angry anymore.
They were frightened.
Detective Harris noticed.
“Mrs. Hale,” he said quietly, “I think you need to leave this house tonight.”
I looked at him.
“Why?”
“Because whatever is happening inside that family is bigger than one slap.”
Before I could ask more, a woman stepped out of a black SUV parked across the street.
She wore a dark coat despite the warm evening.
She walked toward us slowly.
Margaret saw her.
And suddenly screamed.
“No.”
Everyone turned.
The woman's eyes locked onto Margaret.
“You remember me.”
Margaret stepped backward.
Evan stared between them.
“Mom?”
The woman stopped several feet away.
Her voice was quiet.
“My name is Rebecca Lawson.”
She looked at me.
“I knew your husband before he met you.”
Evan went pale.
Rebecca continued.
“I also knew Margaret.”
Margaret shouted:
“Get away from my family!”
Rebecca didn't move.
Then she looked at me.
“Claire, you need to hear what happened twenty years ago.”
Evan suddenly stepped between us.
“No.”
Rebecca smiled bitterly.
“You still protect her.”
I stared at my husband.
“What happened twenty years ago?”
He said nothing.
Rebecca reached into her purse.
She pulled out an old photograph.
Then she handed it to me.
I looked down.
My heart stopped.
The photograph showed Margaret standing beside a young Evan.
But there was another child in the picture.
A little girl.
Her face had been scratched out.
May you like
On the back of the photograph was one sentence.
She was supposed to be your daughter.
