Chapter 2

The next morning, Aaron hadn't come home all night.

I dressed Libby and got her ready to take to the hospital for her follow-up.

We'd barely reached the gate of the complex when we ran into a few parents from her class.

The moment they saw me, they yanked their own kids close and steered them well away.

"That's her. The mother of that little delinquent who beats up other kids."

"Rotten branch off a rotten tree. What bad luck, running into people like that."

"Keep your distance. If her daughter loses it, she might start swinging at us too."

They pitched their voices just loud enough for me to hear.

An unleashed poodle came charging out of nowhere, barking straight at Libby.

She flinched all over and clamped her hands over her head, scrambling to hide behind me.

The dog's owner not only didn't leash it, she rolled her eyes at me.

"What's all the barking about? Even the dog knows your family's no good."

My eyes went cold. I pulled the pepper spray straight out of my bag, aimed it in front of the dog, and pressed down.

The sharp sting of it spread instantly.

The poodle yelped, tucked its tail, and bolted.

"What are you doing! You dare spray my dog!" the owner shrieked.

I looked at her, flat and cold. "Leash it next time, or it's your face I spray."

I didn't bother with the rest of their cursing. I took Libby's trembling hand and walked straight to the bus stop.

At the hospital, the doctor ran a full round of tests on Libby.

Looking over the latest EEG and psychological evaluation, his brow knotted tight.

"Ms. Pruitt, Libby's condition isn't good."

"Her autistic tendencies are getting more severe. She's shutting herself off completely, refusing to take in any information from the outside world."

"If she takes another strong external shock, she may lose the chance of staying lucid at all."

The words went into me like a knife.

I nodded and tucked the chart and the thick diagnostic report into my bag.

Back home, I started sorting out Libby's backpack.

The moment I unzipped it, my hand froze.

Inside were nothing but crumpled wads of paper and textbooks that had been cut to shreds.

Eyes stinging, I dumped the scraps into the trash and taped the textbooks back together page by page.

At the very bottom of the bag, my fingers found a hardcover notebook.

Libby's sketchbook.

It was the only way she had of talking to the world.

I opened it.

The first pages were nothing but chaotic blocks of color, black and gray, so heavy they made it hard to breathe.

But when I turned to the last page, my hand stopped dead.

The drawing showed a chubby boy.

He stood at the front of the classroom, his hand reaching into the teacher's drawer, and inside the drawer was something that glittered.

The next drawing.

The boy went bolting out of the classroom door in a panic and took a hard fall in the hallway.

A wide splash of red spilled from his head.

And in the corner of the picture was a little girl with no mouth and only a pair of big eyes.

She was hiding behind a pillar in the hallway, watching it all in silence.

I stared at that drawing for a long time, my heart beating faster and faster.

The chubby boy was obviously Herbert Whitney!

And that glittering thing, what was it? A watch? A necklace?

Whatever it was, the drawing proved one thing: Herbert had fallen on his own! And he'd been stealing!

I grabbed my phone right away and called the school security office.

"Hi, I'm Libby Dickerson's mother. I'd like to check the footage from the second-floor hallway last Wednesday afternoon."

The security guard on the other end sounded thoroughly annoyed.

"Check what footage? The cameras have been broken for a month. Nothing to check."

The cameras were broken?

There was no such coincidence. This was plainly the school currying favor with Mrs. Whitney.

Destroying evidence, or simply not wanting the trouble.

The lock rattled, and Aaron walked in reeking of liquor, eyes bloodshot, tie crooked.

He hadn't even cleared the doorway before he collapsed onto the couch, letting out an agonized moan.

"Irene, I'm finished. I've been suspended."

"Mr. Whitney's put out the word. Unless you take the eight hundred thousand and go apologize, I'm done in this industry in Riverton."

Then he scrambled up and lunged at me like a mad dog, grabbing my shoulders.

"I'm begging you, all right!"

"Go kneel and apologize to Mrs. Whitney! Pay the eight hundred thousand!"

"We'll sell this house and scrape the money together! Worst case, we buy another one later!"

I looked at this man and felt my stomach heave.

This was the husband I'd once thought I could give my whole life to.

For one client, for his career, he'd sell off my daughter and me without a second's hesitation.

Even the one house that kept a roof over our heads, he'd hand it over to please someone else.

I threw his hand off me.

"Aaron, dream on."

"This house is the property my parents left me before we married. You have no right to sell it."

"And the money, I won't pay a cent of it. Because Libby never hit anyone!"

He pointed at me, his eyes full of venom.

"You cold-blooded monster! You'd drive me to my death for that crippled daughter of yours!"

"How was I ever blind enough to marry a lunatic like you!"

He stumbled into the bedroom and locked the door behind him.

I carefully put Libby's sketchbook away, sliding it into a waterproof document envelope.

Then I took out Libby's disability certificate, the red booklet a little harsh to look at.

I laid it beside the sketchbook. Everything was ready.

My phone buzzed again. A text, from Mrs. Whitney's lawyer, Lawyer Finch.

"Ms. Pruitt, you should have received the court summons by now."

"On behalf of Mrs. Whitney, I'm giving you one last chance."

"I'd advise you to settle out of court before the hearing and wire the eight hundred thousand to this account, nice and quiet."

"Otherwise, once this goes to trial, your whole family will be ruined, and I'll file to force the auction of your property!"

I looked at the threat on the screen, and a cold smile tugged at the corner of my mouth.

"See you in court."

Three words back, then I silenced the phone and tossed it aside.

Libby had come to my side at some point without my noticing.

She reached out with her small hands, wrapped her arms around my leg, and pressed her face against my knee.

I gathered her into my arms and rubbed my chin against her forehead.

"Don't be scared, Libby."

"Mommy's here. Mommy will kill every last monster."