Chapter 3: The Texts That Were Never From Her
I carried Lily to the living room sofa and set her down gently.
"Stay here, sweetheart.
Daddy will be right back."
She grabbed my sleeve with both hands.
"Don't go near Grandma."
"I won't be long." I kissed her forehead.
"I promise."
I walked back to the hallway.
Diane had not moved far.
She was standing near the kitchen doorway with her arms crossed again, but the confidence was gone.
Her eyes were tracking me the way a person tracks a door they're not sure they can reach in time.
"Start talking," I said.
"Ryan, you're overreacting.
Children exaggerate—"
"She's four.
She doesn't know how to exaggerate a lock on a basement door." I held up my phone.
"Sarah has texted me every day.
Every single day.
Photos of Lily.
Little notes.
'Give her a kiss from me.' Who sent those, Mom?"
Diane's jaw tightened.
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"You have Sarah's phone."
"That is a ridiculous accusation."
"Then call her.
Right now.
Call her from your phone and put it on speaker."
She didn't move.
"Call her."
"Ryan—"
"Call her right now or I'm calling the police."
Diane's hand went to her own pocket.
Slowly.
She pulled out her phone and held it up.
Her contacts were already open.
I could see the screen from where I stood.
She scrolled past Sarah's name without stopping.
"I don't have her number memorized—"
I crossed the room in three steps and took the phone out of her hand.
She grabbed for it.
"You have no right—"
I found Sarah's name in Diane's recent calls.
The last outgoing call to Sarah was fourteen days ago.
But there were dozens of incoming texts.
I opened them.
They were all from Diane.
To herself.
Written as Sarah.
Sent from Sarah's number to Diane's number and then forwarded to mine, word for word.
*Miss you both.
Give Lily a kiss from me.*
*Thinking of you two.
Be home soon.*
*Tell Lily I love her.*
My hands were shaking so badly I nearly dropped the phone.
"You've had Sarah's phone for two weeks."
"It's not what it looks like."
"Where is she?"
"She left, Ryan." Diane's voice shifted.
Harder now.
Like she'd decided something.
"She left on her own.
She packed a bag and she walked out.
I didn't want to tell you because I knew you'd fall apart."
"That is a lie."
"Is it?
Is it really?
Because your wife has been unhappy for a long time.
You were never home.
You were always traveling.
She told me herself she felt like a single mother."
The words were designed to land, and they did.
For exactly two seconds, I felt the doubt she wanted me to feel.
Then I looked back at the basement door.
"A woman who is unhappy with her husband does not abandon her four-year-old daughter," I said.
"She takes her daughter with her."
Diane said nothing.
"Sarah would never leave Lily.
Not for a day.
Not for an hour." I looked at my mother.
"So I'm going to ask you one more time.
Where is my wife?"
Diane sat down at the kitchen table.
She folded her hands in front of her.
When she looked up, her expression had changed completely.
It was almost calm.
"You should sit down," she said.
"There are things about Sarah you don't know.
Things I've been protecting you from."
I did not sit down.
"What things?"
She reached into the kitchen drawer beside her and placed a manila envelope on the table between us.
May you like
"Open it," she said.
"And then tell me how much you trust her."
