[CHAPTER 11]
We moved the next morning.
Not publicly.
Not dramatically.
Sophie thought we were taking a trip.
I hated lying, so I told her the simplest version of the truth.
“We're staying somewhere safer for a while.”
“Because of Miss Vanessa?”
“Yes.”
“Can Winston come?”
“Absolutely.”
“Can Bear come?”
She held up the giant teddy bear.
“He has his own seat.”
That made her smile.
The safe house belonged to an old friend of mine outside the city.
No staff.
No publicity.
Minimal technology.
Police knew the location.
Marcus knew.
Emily knew.
Almost no one else.
For the first time in my adult life, I made my own breakfast three mornings in a row.
The pancakes were terrible.
Sophie ate them anyway.
“They're crunchy.”
“They aren't supposed to be.”
“I like crunchy.”
I knew she was protecting my feelings.
“Liar.”
She giggled.
Then her smile faded.
“Is lying always bad?”
I sat beside her.
“No.”
She looked surprised.
“Rachel says secrets can be unsafe.”
“She's right.”
“But you lied about my pancakes being food.”
I laughed.
“They are technically food.”
Sophie looked pleased with herself.
I explained that some lies were meant to hurt or control people.
Others were jokes.
Others came from fear.
She listened seriously.
“Why did Miss Vanessa lie?”
“To control us.”
“Did it work?”
“For a while.”
“Does it work now?”
“No.”
She nodded.
That answer seemed important.
Meanwhile, Graham continued talking.
He implicated six Brighton employees.
Two lawyers.
A private investigator.
A doctor who had written questionable evaluations.
The network was larger than anyone expected.
News broke nationally.
BRIGHTON FAMILY CONSULTING INVESTIGATED IN MULTISTATE FRAUD SCHEME.
My name appeared in every article.
Claire's name followed.
Then Sophie.
I demanded media outlets stop identifying her.
Some complied.
Others didn't.
I learned another painful lesson.
Money could hire lawyers.
It couldn't erase the internet.
Then Detective Bennett called.
“We found the person who leaked Sophie’s school information.”
“Who?”
“One of Vanessa's former assistants.”
“Arrest her.”
“We did.”
“Did she know where Vanessa is?”
“No.”
“Anything useful?”
“She said Vanessa has a friend named Caleb Ross.”
I frowned.
“Who is he?”
“Former Brighton driver.”
“Criminal record?”
“Burglary. Stalking. Assault.”
My skin went cold.
“Where is he?”
“Missing.”
Police believed Caleb was helping Vanessa move between locations.
For the first time, she wasn't operating alone.
That increased the danger.
It also created a weakness.
Partners made mistakes.
Two days later, Caleb used a stolen credit card at a gas station.
Camera footage showed Vanessa in the passenger seat.
They were heading north.
Police circulated alerts.
Then the trail disappeared.
I tried to focus on Sophie.
Her nightmares decreased.
She stopped asking permission before opening the refrigerator.
The first time she did it, I watched from the doorway.
She took yogurt.
Closed the door.
Sat at the table.
No fear.
No apology.
I had to look away so she wouldn't see my face.
Rachel later told me, “That's progress.”
“It feels absurd that yogurt is progress.”
“For Sophie, it represents access.”
“To food.”
“To choice.”
I nodded.
Rachel studied me.
“How are you doing?”
“Fine.”
She waited.
I sighed.
“Terrified.”
“Of?”
“Everything.”
“Specific.”
“Vanessa finding us.”
“Reasonable.”
“Sophie never trusting me again.”
“Possible, but not inevitable.”
“Claire's death.”
“That already happened.”
I looked at her.
“Knowing someone may have caused it changes the grief.”
“Yes.”
“And knowing I ignored her—”
Rachel raised a hand.
“We are not making your therapy Sophie's therapy.”
“I know.”
“Do you have someone?”
I didn't.
She gave me a name.
A therapist named Dr. Samuel Rhodes.
I almost refused.
Then I remembered Emily's warning.
Don't make Sophie carry you.
So I went.
I hated the first session.
Dr. Rhodes asked what I felt.
I told him what happened.
He repeated the question.
“What do you feel?”
“Angry.”
“Under that?”
“More angry.”
He didn't laugh.
I finally said, “Ashamed.”
There it was.
The word I avoided.
“I built everything except the one thing Sophie needed.”
“What?”
“A father who was present.”
Dr. Rhodes leaned back.
“Can you become one now?”
“Yes.”
“Then shame is useful only if it changes behavior.”
I didn't enjoy therapy.
Which probably meant I needed it.
That evening, Sophie asked me to braid her hair.
I had no idea how.
Claire used to braid it before school.
I watched three instructional videos.
My first attempt looked like a knot.
Sophie examined herself in the mirror.
“It's weird.”
“I know.”
“Can we leave it?”
“Why?”
“Because you did it.”
My throat tightened.
“Yes.”
We left it.
At dinner, Marcus received an urgent call.
His face changed.
He stepped outside.
I followed.
“What?”
“Police found Caleb Ross.”
“Where?”
“A rest stop near Albany.”
“Vanessa?”
“No.”
My stomach tightened.
“Is he alive?”
“Yes.”
“Talking?”
“He asked for a lawyer.”
I called Bennett.
She sounded tense.
“Caleb had blood on his jacket.”
“Whose?”
“We don't know.”
“Was he injured?”
“No.”
My heart sank.
“Vanessa?”
“Possible.”
“Eleanor?”
“She's protected.”
“Then whose blood?”
“We're testing.”
Caleb eventually admitted he had been driving Vanessa.
He claimed they fought.
He said Vanessa cut herself breaking a window.
Police didn't believe him.
Then investigators searched the vehicle.
In the trunk they found rope.
Sedatives.
A child's winter coat.
Pink.
Sophie's size.
I stared at the evidence photograph.
“She was coming for Sophie.”
Bennett nodded.
“Looks that way.”
“Did Caleb know our location?”
“He says no.”
“Do you believe him?”
“Mostly.”
I exhaled.
Then Bennett's phone buzzed.
She read the message.
Her expression changed.
“What?”
“The blood isn't Vanessa's.”
My stomach tightened.
“Whose?”
“We got a database match.”
She looked directly at me.
“It belongs to a man named Thomas Reeves.”
“Who is that?”
Bennett paused.
“Claire's former driver.”
I stared at her.
Claire's driver had disappeared three weeks after her death.
We assumed he moved overseas.
Now his blood was in the car of a man helping Vanessa.
“Why would Vanessa know Thomas?”
Bennett's voice was quiet.
“That's exactly what we're going to ask.”
But Thomas wasn't missing overseas.
Police found his financial records.
For fourteen months, someone had been paying him monthly through a Brighton shell company.
Then the payments stopped two weeks ago.
The same week Vanessa ran.
Thomas hadn't disappeared after Claire's death.
He had been hidden.
Paid.
Silenced.
And now someone had hurt him.
The next morning, police found his body.
But inside his apartment, taped beneath a drawer, they found a flash drive.
On it was a video recorded the night Claire died.
Thomas looked terrified.
He stared into the camera and said:
May you like
“My name is Thomas Reeves. If anything happens to me, Vanessa Cole killed Claire Sterling.”
Then he explained exactly how.
