Chapter 12 - Someone Had Been Watching Lily
Frank swore he had never contacted the school.
The phone number attached to his name was prepaid and already disconnected.
The address belonged to an empty rental house.
Someone had used the name of a missing grandfather as a backup identity around my daughter.
The question was why.
Officer Patel treated it like identity fraud.
I treated it like a threat.
"Whoever did this knew Frank existed," I said. "They knew enough to use a name I wouldn't recognize."
"Ryan knew," Rebecca said.
"So did Diane."
"And Matthew," Frank added quietly.
Matthew.
The brother nobody had discussed since the beginning.
Ryan's older brother had moved to Arizona years earlier, according to the family.
Claire laughed when I told her.
"Arizona? That's new."
"What do you mean?"
"Last I heard, Matthew was in Oregon. Before that, Nevada. The family changes his location depending on who's asking."
"Why?"
"Because Matthew doesn't want to be found."
"By Diane?"
"By anybody."
Claire sent me an email address Matthew had used during their divorce.
I wrote one sentence.
LILY IS SIX. DIANE HURT HER. I NEED THE TRUTH.
The reply came forty minutes later.
DO NOT CONTACT ME AGAIN.
Then a second email.
ASK RYAN WHY HE STILL HAS THE CABIN KEY.
I called Frank.
"What cabin?"
He went silent.
"Frank."
"There's a hunting cabin north of Marlow Creek. It belonged to my father."
"Who owns it now?"
"Technically Matthew and Ryan."
"Does Diane have access?"
"She shouldn't."
That word shouldn't had become meaningless.
Police checked the property.
No one was there.
But a neighbor reported seeing Ryan's truck two weeks earlier.
Then Officer Patel called me with another detail.
"We pulled traffic camera footage near the cabin. Ryan went there three times in the last month."
"Why?"
"We don't know."
"Was Lily with him?"
"On one trip, yes."
My vision blurred.
I had thought that Saturday they were at the science museum.
Lily had come home exhausted and wouldn't eat dinner.
I crouched beside her that evening and asked if she had fun.
She said, I don't want to talk about today.
I let it go.
That memory hurt worse than any accusation Ryan could make.
I went to Lily's room at Rachel's apartment.
She was building a house out of magnetic tiles.
"Sweetheart, did Daddy ever take you to a cabin in the woods?"
The tiles stopped moving.
"Yes."
"Was Grandma there?"
She nodded.
"What happened?"
"They asked me questions."
"What kind?"
"About you."
My skin went cold.
"What did they ask?"
Lily looked embarrassed.
"If you yell. If you drink wine. If you hit me."
"What did you say?"
"I said no."
"Then what?"
"Grandma got mad."
I closed my eyes.
They had been preparing a custody case before the party.
Before the bottle.
Before any public confrontation.
"Was anyone else at the cabin?"
Lily thought for a moment.
Then she nodded.
"Uncle Matthew."
I stared at her.
"You've met Matthew?"
"He told me not to call him that."
"What did he tell you to call him?"
Lily whispered the name.
"Mr. Mark."
I remembered the school emergency-contact form.
Frank Walker.
Prepaid phone.
Fake address.
Someone had been using false names around Lily.
And now the brother who supposedly wanted nothing to do with the family had been sitting in a cabin with my husband, my mother-in-law, and my six-year-old child.
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