Chapter 3 - THE DAUGHTER WHO DROWNED
By morning, Patricia and Robert had been released pending further investigation.
Sarah learned about it from Detective Lena Torres, the lead investigator assigned to Lily’s case.
Sarah did not scream.
She had gone beyond screaming.
“They admitted it.”
“They made cruel statements,” Torres said. “But neither directly admitted assaulting Lily.”
“My daughter named Patricia.”
“And that matters.”
“Then why is she walking around?”
“Because a six-year-old with a concussion gave a partial statement while medicated, and because the physical evidence is still being processed.”
Sarah stared through the hospital window.
Lily slept behind the glass.
“What about the marks on her arms?”
“Documented.”
“The photograph?”
“Daniel gave us a copy.”
“A copy?”
Torres studied her.
“He kept the original.”
Sarah turned.
“What?”
“Your brother did not surrender the original photograph.”
“Why?”
“He said he didn’t trust your parents’ attorneys.”
“That makes no sense.”
“It makes some sense.”
Sarah folded her arms.
“You think my parents can make evidence disappear.”
Torres did not answer.
That was answer enough.
“What about the list?”
“Also a copy.”
Sarah looked down the corridor.
Daniel was gone.
He had left twenty minutes earlier, claiming he needed coffee.
Sarah pulled out her phone.
No answer.
She called again.
Straight to voicemail.
Torres watched her.
“He’s afraid.”
“Of them?”
“Maybe.”
Sarah remembered the last line.
TRANSFER NOT COMPLETED.
“My sister drowned when I was ten.”
Torres waited.
“Her name was Emily.”
“I know.”
Sarah looked at her.
“How?”
“Daniel mentioned her.”
“My parents said she died at Camp Willow Ridge.”
“Was there a body?”
Sarah’s instinct was immediate.
“Of course.”
Then she stopped.
She remembered a closed casket.
Patricia crying without tears.
Robert telling everyone Emily had been in the water too long.
Sarah remembered begging to see her sister.
She remembered being told no.
She remembered a funeral.
But not a body.
“I don’t know,” she whispered.
Torres pulled a chair closer.
“Tell me what you remember.”
Sarah sat.
“We were told she drowned during an overnight camp. The camp director called. Dad drove there. Mom stayed with us.”
“How long until the funeral?”
“Three days. Maybe four.”
“Did you attend?”
“Yes.”
“Was the casket opened?”
“No.”
“Did police speak to you?”
“I was ten.”
“That isn’t what I asked.”
Sarah tried to remember.
Nothing came.
Then something did.
A woman in a green jacket sitting at the kitchen table.
Patricia standing behind Sarah with one hand resting on her shoulder.
The woman asking whether Emily had ever talked about running away.
Sarah saying no.
Patricia squeezing hard enough to hurt.
Sarah blinked.
“There was a woman.”
“A police officer?”
“Maybe.”
“Do you remember a name?”
“No.”
Her phone rang.
Daniel.
Sarah answered immediately.
“Where are you?”
His breathing was uneven.
“In the car.”
“Come back.”
“I can’t.”
“Why?”
“Because they’re watching the hospital.”
“Who?”
“I don’t know.”
Sarah stood.
“What happened?”
“I went to Dad’s office.”
“You went back to Hawthorne Crest?”
“No. His downtown office.”
“Why?”
“To get the rest.”
“The rest of what?”
“The files.”
“Daniel, stop doing this alone.”
“I found Emily’s death certificate.”
Sarah gripped the phone.
“And?”
“It’s fake.”
The corridor seemed to tilt.
“How do you know?”
“The issuing doctor didn’t exist.”
“How can you know that?”
“Because I checked.”
“You checked in twenty minutes?”
“I’ve been checking for two weeks.”
Sarah closed her eyes.
“You knew.”
“I suspected.”
“You knew this might involve Emily and you said nothing.”
“I needed proof.”
“Where are you?”
There was a pause.
Then Daniel said, “Someone is following me.”
Torres stood.
Sarah put the call on speaker.
“Daniel, Detective Torres is here.”
“Good.”
“Tell us where you are.”
“Westbound on Franklin.”
Torres was already reaching for her radio.
“What vehicle is following you?”
“Black SUV. No front plate.”
“Can you get to a police station?”
“I’m trying.”
A horn blared through the phone.
Daniel cursed.
Sarah heard tires.
Then impact.
The call filled with noise.
Metal.
Glass.
A second crash.
“Daniel!”
Nothing.
“Daniel!”
The line remained open.
Sarah could hear a car alarm.
Then footsteps.
Slow.
Approaching Daniel’s phone.
A man’s voice spoke.
Calmly.
“Sarah Collins?”
Sarah stopped breathing.
Torres motioned to a nearby officer.
Sarah whispered, “Who is this?”
The man chuckled.
“You don’t remember me.”
“Where is my brother?”
“Alive.”
“What did you do?”
“Nothing your family hasn’t been doing for generations.”
Sarah looked at Torres.
“Who are you?”
The man’s answer came softly.
May you like
“Ask your mother who took Emily to the lake.”
The call disconnected.
