Chapter 1 - The White Sneaker
The sneaker missed my stomach by three inches.
It hit the hardwood with a crack that made me jump, and my sister pointed at me as if I were the one who had thrown it.
"You always make everything about the baby," Brooke shouted.
I curled both arms around my seven-month belly. "Are you crazy? I'm seven months pregnant!"
Sunlight poured across our living room, catching the white shoe as it spun to a stop under my husband's chair. Six hours earlier I'd been folding tiny yellow onesies on that same floor. Now I was trying not to shake hard enough for our daughter to feel it.
Ethan came out of the kitchen. He saw the shoe, my face, and Brooke's raised fist. He didn't ask which one of us had started it.
"What the hell is wrong with you?" he said.
Brooke laughed. "Oh, here comes the hero. Ask your perfect wife what she did to me."
"I asked you to stop opening my mail," I said.
"I was looking for my paycheck."
"Your paycheck doesn't come to our address."
Ethan stepped between us. I had never seen him move that fast. "Mara, are you okay?"
"She threw it right at me." My voice sounded small. I hated that.
He offered his hand and helped me stand. A sharp tightening swept across my belly, then loosened. I said nothing. I didn't want to give Brooke another reason to call me dramatic.
Brooke dropped into the leather recliner, crossed her arms and smirked. "What are you going to do? Throw me out when I'm broke? Mom would love that."
"You've gone too far," Ethan said.
He took out his phone. Brooke watched him tap a number, and the smirk slipped.
"Hello," he said. "I need you to come here. Right now."
I knew exactly where Brooke had been standing because the floorboard near the entry squeaked under her left foot. It was the sound that woke me from my shock. I had heard that squeak a hundred times while she wandered down for cereal at midnight, and until that moment it had meant home. Now every familiar detail seemed to testify against the idea that we were safe. I wondered what our daughter would hear someday when she learned the story of this room. I wanted it to be more than the sound of someone screaming.
"Who are you calling?" she demanded.
May you like
Ethan met her eyes. "Someone who knows what you did with our daughter's money."
For the first time all morning, Brooke had nothing to say.
