Chapter 5: The House Behind the Office
I nearly dropped the phone.
"That was Lily," I said.
Denise was already reaching for her seat belt.
"Did you get a location?""
"No.""
"Did she say where she was?""
"Some house. Lazlo brought her somewhere.""
Denise grabbed the folder.
"We need the police.""
I started the engine.
"Call them.""
She dialed emergency services while I drove.
I gave the dispatcher Lily's name, age, description, and the details of the recording.
I told them my daughter had repeatedly become unconscious after being collected by my brother-in-law.
I told them my husband had been recorded discussing her condition.
I told them I believed she was being held somewhere against her will.
The dispatcher instructed me not to approach the suspected location alone.
I agreed.
But when Denise mentioned the business address printed on the email, I recognized it immediately.
Rick's consulting office.
A converted house on the edge of town.
He had taken me there once for a Christmas party.
There was a separate entrance at the back.
And a small guest room upstairs.
I knew because I'd helped Vonda carry decorations into it.
I turned toward the address.
"Claire," Denise said, watching me.
"The police are coming. Please don't do anything reckless.""
"I'm going to get my daughter.""
"Let them handle it.""
I tightened my grip on the steering wheel.
"She's seven.""
Denise went quiet.
A few minutes later, we saw two police vehicles approaching from the opposite direction.
They followed us to the office.
The building looked almost ordinary in the fading afternoon light.
A white two-story house.
A small parking area.
A blue sign beside the front door.
Nothing about it suggested that my daughter might be inside, frightened and unable to understand why nobody was coming to get her.
The officers instructed us to remain behind them.
One knocked.
No answer.
Another walked around the side.
Then we heard a door slam.
A man shouted.
"Hey! You can't come back here!""
It was Lazlo.
He appeared from behind the building wearing a black jacket.
His face changed when he saw me.
"Claire?""
"Where is Lily?""
He looked at the officers.
"This is a misunderstanding.""
"Where's my daughter?""
"She's fine.""
I stepped forward.
"Don't you dare tell me she's fine.""
One officer moved between us.
"Sir, we need to speak with you.""
Lazlo rubbed the back of his neck.
"Look, I can explain everything.""
"Then explain why she keeps coming home unconscious!""
He glanced at me.
For one brief moment, he looked almost ashamed.
Then he said:
"Rick told me you knew.""
I stared at him.
"Knew what?""
He didn't answer.
The officer asked him to step aside.
Lazlo refused.
"I need to call my brother.""
"You can do that later," the officer replied.
Another officer opened the rear entrance.
A woman's voice came from inside.
"Who's there?""
Vonda.
She appeared in the doorway wearing a cream sweater and holding a glass of water.
When she saw the police, the glass slipped from her hand.
It shattered against the floor.
"What's happening?""
I pushed past the officer before he could stop me.
"Where is Lily?""
Vonda stepped backward.
"Claire, you shouldn't be here.""
"Where is my daughter?""
"She's resting.""
"Move.""
Vonda blocked the doorway.
"Please. You're going to make things worse.""
I looked at her.
"You gave my child something that made her unconscious.""
Her expression hardened.
"That's not what happened.""
"Then why was my husband recorded telling you to give her more?""
Vonda's face went pale.
The officer moved her aside.
We entered.
The ground floor looked like a small office.
There was a desk, two computers, filing cabinets, and a kitchenette.
But the hallway smelled strongly of disinfectant.
At the end stood a closed door.
I heard something behind it.
A soft cough.
"Lily?""
Silence.
I moved toward the door.
An officer checked it.
It was unlocked.
Inside was a small bedroom.
There was a single bed, a television, a bedside table, and a pink blanket.
My daughter's shoes were beside the bed.
Her backpack was on a chair.
But Lily wasn't there.
I turned around.
"Where is she?""
Vonda looked at the floor.
"She's upstairs.""
I ran.
The officers followed.
At the top of the stairs, I found another door.
It was partially open.
And there she was.
My little girl.
Sitting on the edge of a mattress with a blanket wrapped around her shoulders.
Her hair was tangled.
Her cheeks were wet.
When she saw me, her face crumpled.
"Mommy!""
I dropped to my knees.
She ran into my arms.
I held her so tightly that she squeaked.
"I'm here, baby. I'm here.""
She buried her face in my neck.
"I thought you weren't coming.""
My heart broke.
"Why would you think that?""
She started crying.
"Because Daddy said you didn't want to know.""
I pulled back.
"What?""
She wiped her nose with her sleeve.
"Daddy said you were too busy to come.""
I kissed her forehead.
"No, sweetheart. Never.""
A paramedic arrived with the officers and began checking Lily.
They asked her questions gently.
She was awake, but extremely drowsy.
Her pulse and blood pressure needed monitoring.
They decided to take her to the hospital.
As they prepared to leave, Lily grabbed my hand.
"Mommy?""
"Yes?""
"Are we going home?""
"Yes, baby.""
She looked toward the doorway.
Then she whispered:
"Can we not go to Daddy's house?""
I couldn't answer immediately.
Because our house was the only home she'd ever known.
And her father was the person she'd once run to whenever she scraped her knee.
I brushed her hair away from her forehead.
"We're going somewhere safe.""
She nodded.
Then she asked:
"Is Uncle Lazlo going to be angry?""
I felt something cold settle in my stomach.
"Why would he be angry?""
Lily looked toward the hallway.
"Because I saw what he and Daddy did.""
I leaned closer.
"What did you see?""
She swallowed.
"That day when I woke up in the little room.""
My fingers tightened around hers.
"What little room?""
She looked at me with frightened eyes.
"The room where Daddy keeps the pictures.""
Before I could ask another question, an officer entered.
"Mrs. Bennett, we need to speak with you.""
I stood.
"What's happened?""
He looked uncomfortable.
"We've found some documents in the office.""
"What documents?""
He glanced toward the door.
"Files concerning your daughter.""
I followed him downstairs.
On the desk, somebody had placed a thick black folder.
My name was printed on the front.
*CLAIRE BENNETT — SUBJECT FILE.*
I stared at it.
Then I opened the cover.
The first page contained my photograph.
The second contained my work schedule.
The third listed the times I left the house, the places I visited, and the dates I had taken Lily to her doctor.
But it was the fourth page that made my knees buckle.
At the top was a heading.
*PARENTAL RESPONSE ASSESSMENT.*
Below it were several handwritten observations.
Mother appears increasingly suspicious.
Mother has questioned the pickup arrangements.
Mother may become emotionally unstable if confronted with evidence.
And at the bottom:
*NEXT STEP: ESTABLISH THAT CLAIRE IS AN UNRELIABLE WITNESS.*
I looked at the officer.
"Who wrote this?""
He turned the page.
There was a signature.
Vonda Pierce.
But beside her signature was another name.
A name I hadn't expected to see.
My own.
Someone had forged my handwriting.
And attached to the page was a photograph of me holding a bottle of prescription medication.
I had never seen that bottle before.
The officer spoke quietly.
"Mrs. Bennett, we need to ask you something.""
I looked up.
"Yes?""
"Has your husband ever accused you of being mentally unstable?""
I couldn't answer.
Because suddenly, I remembered something Rick had said three months earlier.
If you ever start imagining things, Claire, I hope you'll trust me enough to get help.
At the time, I had thought it was a strange joke.
Now I understood.
May you like
He hadn't been joking.
He had been preparing.
