Chapter 5 - Eleven Years
Margaret had a master key.
So did Harris, though his stayed sealed in the security office unless there was an emergency.
I had given Margaret hers years earlier.
I couldn’t remember the occasion.
That was how easily I had handed her access to everything.
At the house, officers photographed the pantry before removing anything.
Harris sent me no pictures until I asked.
When I opened the first one, I wished I hadn’t.
The pantry was narrow.
Shelves crowded one side.
A folded cleaning cloth sat on the floor beside a packet of crackers.
Near the lower hinge were the scratches.
Beside them, faint marks in the paint where something had rubbed repeatedly against the wall.
I locked my phone.
Ruiz sat across from me in the hospital family room.
“We need a full timeline,” she said.
“When did you first notice changes?”
“They slept more.”
“How much more?”
“I thought they were growing.”
“What else?”
“They stopped crying when I left.”
I had told colleagues things were getting easier.
My children had gone quiet, and I had called it progress.
“When was Lena hired?”
“Seven weeks ago.”
“Any concerns before that?”
I remembered Caroline’s sister visiting.
Asking why the nursery door was closed in the middle of the afternoon.
Margaret explaining that stimulation upset the boys.
I had defended Margaret.
I rubbed both hands over my face.
“Yes.”
Ruiz let the silence sit.
Then she asked about the lock.
“Margaret said the pantry latch was broken.
She said the lock was temporary until a carpenter came.”
“How long ago?”
“A month.
Maybe longer.”
The words tasted filthy.
Ruiz wrote them down.
Later, I found Lena by the vending machines, staring at a coffee she hadn’t touched.
“I believed her,” I said.
Lena nodded.
“She knew you would.”
“I’m not asking you to make me feel better.”
“Good.”
The word landed hard.
Then she set down the coffee.
“There’s something else.
The notebook wasn’t the only record.”
I looked up.
“Where?”
“I took pictures of some pages.
And I saved the emails.”
“On your phone?”
She shook her head.
“Margaret broke my phone yesterday.”
May you like
My chest tightened.
“But,” Lena said, “she didn’t know where the pictures went afterward.”
