“Jordan told me they remember the accident.”
My chest tightened.
“They were five. The doctors said—”
“They remember more than you think.”
Jordan gripped Annie’s skirt.
Justin whispered, “Mommy was scared before the truck hit us.”
I crouched in front of him. “Scared of what?”
His eyes filled with tears.
“The man following us.”
The hallway seemed to tilt.
Annie explained that during lunch, the twins had drawn pictures. Jordan’s showed Lauren’s SUV, a black car behind it, and a tall man standing beside the wreck.
Justin had drawn the same man.
My pulse thundered.
“Did someone tell you this?”
Both boys shook their heads.
Jordan suddenly ran into the bedroom and returned holding something small in his palm.
Lauren’s old silver locket.
I hadn’t seen it since the accident.
“Where did you get that?”
“Under Mommy’s bed,” he whispered.
Impossible.
The room had been cleaned dozens of times.
My fingers shook as I opened the locket.
Lauren’s photograph was still inside—but behind it was a tiny folded piece of paper.
Three words were written in her handwriting.
**DON’T TRUST DANIEL.**
I stopped breathing.
Daniel Mercer.
My closest friend.
My company’s chief financial officer.
The man who had identified Lauren’s body when I was too shattered to do it myself.
The man who had stood beside me at her funeral.
Then my phone rang.
Daniel’s name appeared on the screen.
Before I could answer, Justin screamed.
A shadow moved beyond the downstairs window.
Annie rushed toward the twins.
I stepped closer to the glass.
Outside, beneath the security light, stood Daniel.
And somehow, though I had never told him Annie existed, he was staring directly at her.
Then my phone buzzed with his message.
**GET THE MAID OUT OF YOUR HOUSE. SHE KNOWS WHAT HAPPENED TO LAUREN.**
