Chapter 2

"I wish I never met you." The sheer venom in her tone made me flinch. "I don't even want to hear your voice. You are a disgusting, sick monster."

"Valerie, wait—"

The call ended. I tapped her name to call back. It went straight to voicemail.

I scrambled out of the bathroom. Desmond was tearing my clothes from the dresser, shoving them into a duffel bag.

"Desmond, stop!" I grabbed his arm. "Tell me what I did!"

He spun and backhanded me. My head cracked against the doorframe.

"Even animals protect their young. But you?"

"I swear to God I don't know—"

He didn't care. He dropped me, grabbed the packed bag, and dragged me down the hallway.

He threw me hard into the dark attic. The heavy bag flew in right after me, slamming into my ribs.

The door shut. The deadbolt clicked.

I scrambled to the wood, pounding my fists against it. Downstairs, through the floorboards, Desmond's voice drifted up. Gentle. Soothing.

"It's okay, Maeve. Daddy's here. I won't let her hurt you."

I slid to the floor, pulling my knees to my chest. "Why?" I screamed into the dark. "Just tell me why!"

No one answered.

I waited until they were asleep, then crawled to the air vent by the ceiling.

I kicked the grate hard. It buckled. I kicked again and again until the screws finally gave way.

Minutes later, I slipped through the hallway into Maeve’s room. She was asleep, shivering slightly over her covers.

I grabbed her jacket, pulled her into my arms, and slipped out the back door into the freezing night.

I held Maeve tight against my chest. My mind raced with Desmond's hateful eyes, Valerie's venomous insults, the antique dealer's violence.

I needed to know if I was losing my mind, or if this nightmare was real.

A woman stood at the upcoming bus stop. She wore a trench coat, taking a long drag from a cigarette.

I approached her, out of breath. "Excuse me."

She turned, raising an eyebrow at my disheveled state.

"Do you like this choker?" I asked, pointing to the ruby resting on Maeve's neck.

The woman leaned in. She didn't flinch. She even smiled. "It's beautiful. That’s a lovely stone."

My pulse hammered in my throat. I forced the next words out, watching her face closely.

"I bought it for her. I put it on her myself."

The cigarette slipped from the woman's lips, hitting the pavement in a shower of sparks.

Without a word, she lunged. Her hands slammed hard into my shoulders.

I stumbled backward off the curb.

Blinding headlights flashed in my periphery. A horn blared. A night delivery truck swerved, its tires screeching on the asphalt, missing my back by inches.

The rush of wind knocked me to the ground. Maeve cried out.

"You filthy bitch!" the woman screamed from the sidewalk. "You deserve to die for what you did to that kid!"

She turned and marched away into the darkness.

My chest heaved. I stared at the truck's fading taillights.

I pulled Maeve up and ran.

We burst through the double doors of the local police precinct.

Sheriff Callahan sat behind the front desk. He had kind, tired eyes and graying hair.

He immediately stood up when he saw my scraped knees and my crying daughter.

"Christ, ma'am, come sit down." He guided us to a wooden bench. He handed me a paper cup of water and patted Maeve's shoulder. "Who did this to you?"

I gripped the cup, my hands shaking so badly the water spilled over the brim.

"Everyone. My husband. Strangers on the street. They've all lost their minds."

Callahan pulled up a chair, sitting knee-to-knee with me.

"Nobody is going to hurt you here. Tell me exactly what happened."

For a second, the knot in my stomach loosened. I had found sanity. I pointed to the red stone on Maeve’s neck.

"I bought her this ruby choker. But whenever I tell anyone..." I paused.

"Tell them what, Rosalind?" he asked gently.

"Whenever I say I put it on her myself. That I fastened it. They attack me."

Callahan stopped breathing.

He didn't blink. He just stared at me.

He slowly placed his notepad on the desk. He stood up. He took three steps away from me, putting distance between us.

"Sheriff?"

He looked at a female deputy at the next desk. "Officer Miller. Take the child to the examination room. Strip her down. Check for injuries."

"Wait, what?" I jumped up. "No, she hasn't been hurt!"

Miller grabbed Maeve’s hand and pulled her down the hallway.

"Mommy!" Maeve reached back for me.

"Let her go!" I tried to follow, but Callahan blocked my path. His hand rested on his gun belt.

"Sit down," he ordered.

The next hour was pure agony. I paced the waiting area. Callahan watched me with a fixed, hateful glare.

Finally, the exam room door opened. Officer Miller walked out.

"Well?" Callahan asked.

"Nothing," Miller said, shaking her head. "No bruises, no cuts. The kid is perfectly fine."

I let out a massive breath.

"See? I told you. I haven't done anything wrong. Please, just give me my daughter back."

Callahan didn't relax. He sneered.

He marched toward me, grabbed my arm, and twisted it behind my back.

Pain flared through my shoulder socket. He shoved me through an open door into a small interrogation room.

"What are you doing? She said there are no injuries!" I screamed.

"You disgust me," Callahan spat. "I don't care what the physical exam says. You are a sick, twisted animal. What you did to that child is unforgivable."

He slammed me onto a metal chair against the wall and pulled out handcuffs. One cuff clicked around my left wrist, the other looped through the radiator pipe with a final click.

"Are you deaf? I didn't hurt her!" I pulled against the metal. It dug into my bone.

"You belong in a psych ward," Callahan said, looking down at me with utter contempt. "We're holding the girl. Child Protective Services will pick her up in the morning."

"You can't do this! I am her mother!"

Before I could say something, Callahan had left to make a call.

I yanked the handcuffs blindly. I pulled until my wrist bled, screaming at the door. Nobody answered.

Exhausted, I collapsed onto the cold tiles, gasping for air.

My cheek rested against the floor, inches from the peeling baseboard. Tears blurred my vision.

Except... a small sparkle caught the fluorescent light above.

I blinked, focusing on the narrow gap beneath the radiator pipe.

A diamond earring.

I stopped breathing.

I recognized that custom-cut setting. Valerie had bragged about it for weeks. She bought the pair at an exclusive auction last month and never took them off.

My best friend's earring. Hidden in the dirt of a police interrogation room.