Chapter 9 - A New Incident

I forwarded the photograph to Lila and told Tessa not to take further risks for me. She replied with one sentence: TOO LATE. SHE FOUND OUT ABOUT THE VIDEO.

Then her phone went dead.

I drove to Celia's neighborhood but stopped two streets away. I didn't want anyone twisting my concern into another accusation. Instead I called Tessa's husband, Owen.

"She's fine," he said too quickly. "She's with Mom."

"Can I speak to her?"

"It's not a good time."

In the background I heard Celia say, "Hang up."

Owen did.

At four-thirty a police cruiser pulled into Dana's driveway. My stomach dropped until I saw the same officer I'd spoken with Sunday night.

"Mrs. Ellis, we received a report about a threatening message supposedly sent from your phone to Celia Ellis."

"What message?"

He showed me a screenshot: an ugly threat, time-stamped eleven-forty last night. According to the screenshot, I'd promised to come to Celia's house and make her pay.

"I didn't send that."

"Can you show me the conversation on your device?"

I did. There was no such text. I knew a screenshot by itself could be fabricated, but not whether the officer could prove that.

He documented what I showed him and asked where I'd been. Dana confirmed I was in her house with Lucy at that time.

After he left, I felt exhausted beyond tears.

"She wants you to lose control," Dana said, bringing me a glass of water. "Don't give her the satisfaction."

An hour later, a small package arrived by courier. Inside was a child's cardigan with a dark grease stain down the front and a printed note.

THIS WAS HOW LUCY ARRIVED AT MY HOME LAST WEEK. SOMEONE SHOULD ASK WHY.

It wasn't Lucy's cardigan. The tag read size eight; she wore size six. But photographed against a neutral background, it could have passed for hers.

I added it to the growing collection of evidence. I asked Dana to photograph the shipping label and the garment without altering anything.

Then Lucy appeared in the doorway holding Button.

"Mommy, that sweater belongs to Grandma's doll," she said.

"How do you know?"

"She made me put it on the doll when she took pictures."

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Before I could ask anything else, the doorbell rang again. This time it was Frank, Celia's husband, alone and shivering in the rain.

"Mara," he said, "I have to tell you what happened in that pantry."