Chapter 4 - WHERE IS MY DAUGHTER?
I called Chloe’s school so fast I nearly dropped the phone.
The secretary answered.
“Brookfield Elementary.”
“This is Audrey Mercer.”
My voice shook.
“I need to speak to my daughter’s teacher.”
A pause.
“Mrs. Mercer?”
“Yes.”
“Chloe was picked up forty minutes ago.”
Everything inside me stopped.
“By who?”
“Her father.”
I couldn’t breathe.
Dad took the phone from my hand.
“This is Thomas Bennett. Confirm the exact time.”
He listened.
His face hardened.
“Did anyone else accompany him?”
Another pause.
“Thank you.”
He disconnected.
I gripped the blanket.
“He took her.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Dad didn’t answer.
“Why would he take her passport?”
He picked up his phone.
“We’re going to find out.”
I wanted to climb out of bed.
My body reminded me that I couldn’t.
“Dad, bring her back.”
“I will.”
“No.”
I grabbed his sleeve.
“You don’t understand.”
His eyes softened.
“What?”
“Julian gets angry when people embarrass him.”
I hated how weak my voice sounded.
“He never hit Chloe. But he scares her.”
Dad’s face changed.
“What do you mean?”
“He shouts. Breaks things.”
I looked away.
“He punched a hole through the pantry door last year.”
“Did he hit you?”
Silence answered for me.
Dad sat down again.
“Audrey.”
“Not exactly.”
“What does that mean?”
“He shoved me once.”
Dad closed his eyes.
“Another time he grabbed my neck.”
My father’s breathing slowed.
That frightened me more than anger would have.
“I told myself it wasn’t really abuse.”
“Why?”
“Because he apologized.”
The words sounded pathetic now.
“He bought flowers.”
Dad looked toward the window.
For several seconds, he said nothing.
Then he called the police.
Within an hour, Julian’s photograph was circulating.
Dad contacted people whose names I had never heard.
Airport security.
Border contacts.
State police.
I suddenly understood that my quiet father still had doors he could open.
At 4:17 p.m., a detective entered my room.
Detective Melissa Grant.
She placed a recorder on the table.
“I need you to tell me about your marriage.”
So I did.
Not the version I told friends.
The real version.
Julian controlling the bank accounts.
Julian checking my phone.
Julian telling me my friends were bad influences.
Julian convincing me to quit my job.
Julian laughing when I said I wanted to work again.
“You’re a mother now, Audrey. Stop pretending you’re twenty-five.”
I described every moment I had minimized.
Detective Grant listened without interrupting.
When I finished, she asked one question.
“Did your husband know your route the day of the crash?”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“I texted him.”
“What did you say?”
I opened my phone.
The message was still there.
Taking Chloe’s project to school. Home in 30.
Julian had replied with a thumbs-up.
Grant photographed the screen.
Dad stood near the window.
His phone suddenly rang.
He answered.
“Yes?”
His posture changed.
“Where?”
I watched his expression tighten.
“Don’t approach him alone.”
He hung up.
“What?”
“They found Julian’s car.”
“Where?”
“Airport parking.”
My blood froze.
“And Chloe?”
Dad’s jaw tightened.
“The car was empty.”
Then Detective Grant’s phone buzzed.
She checked the alert.
Her eyes widened.
“Mr. Bennett.”
“What?”
“Your son-in-law bought two plane tickets this morning.”
I squeezed my eyes shut.
“To where?”
Grant looked at me.
“One ticket was for Julian.”
May you like
She paused.
“The other was for your daughter.”
