Chapter 5 - THE BLUE NOTEBOOK

The next morning, Lily refused to go to school.

“Mom knows where I am.”

“She knows you’re with me.”

“No. I mean she knows where I am at school.”

I sat beside her on Megan’s couch.

“She can’t just take you.”

Lily gave me a look that belonged on someone forty years older.

“She’s my mom.”

That was the problem.

Legally, biologically, publicly—Claire was their mother.

To the outside world, she was the woman who made cupcakes for school fundraisers.

She volunteered at field day.

She remembered teachers’ birthdays.

She posted pictures of homemade lunches online with tiny heart-shaped sandwiches.

People loved Claire.

I had loved Claire.

By noon, my lawyer had helped me file for an emergency protective order.

By two, Claire’s attorney had responded.

By four, I understood what Lily meant when she said Claire knew how to make people believe things.

Claire claimed I had become “unstable.”

She said I had kidnapped the children after a marital argument.

She said I had manipulated them.

She said the frying pan slipped from her hand.

Then she added one sentence that made my lawyer go silent.

“She alleges you have an anger problem.”

I laughed.

Not because it was funny.

Because I finally understood the trap.

“She’s been building this.”

My lawyer looked at me.

“What do you mean?”

“Rule twenty-three.”

I played the recording from the night before.

He stopped taking notes.

When it ended, he said quietly, “Keep everything.”

That evening, Lily came into the kitchen.

“Dad?”

“Yeah?”

“I forgot something.”

“At home?”

She nodded.

“What?”

“My blue notebook.”

“School notebook?”

“No.”

Her face told me it mattered.

“What’s in it?”

She glanced toward Noah, who was watching television.

“Stuff Mom did.”

I stared at her.

“You wrote it down?”

“Not everything.”

“Why?”

“Because sometimes she told me I remembered things wrong.”

That sentence hit me harder than the pan.

“So you wrote them down so you’d know you weren’t imagining them?”

Lily nodded.

“Where is it?”

“My room.”

“I’ll get it.”

“No.”

“Why?”

“She knows about it.”

My heart stopped.

“How?”

“She found me writing once.”

“What happened?”

“She asked what I was doing.”

“What did you say?”

“I told her it was a story.”

“Did she believe you?”

Lily shook her head.

“She read one page.”

“What was on the page?”

Lily swallowed.

“The day she locked Noah outside.”

Megan looked up sharply.

“What?”

“It wasn’t long,” Lily said quickly. “It was just cold.”

I had to grip the counter.

“Where did you hide the notebook?”

Lily whispered, “Inside the wall.”

I stared at her.

“What wall?”

“In my closet. There’s a loose vent. I put it behind there.”

My phone rang.

Claire.

I didn’t answer.

Then a text came.

I HAVE LILY’S NOTEBOOK.

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