Chapter 1
Ethan Monroe is born rotten, the son of Jessica Monroe, who is my husband's precious first love. The second I turn my back, he sweet-talks my daughter and vanishes with her.
When we finally tear open that wall, my baby girl is staring straight at me, concrete kissing her cheeks like some sick forever sleep.
My husband, David Collins, the detective, puts his badge between me and justice. He insists Ethan is just a minor, a child who doesn't know any better.
He then books the psycho twice-a-week therapy like it is summer camp.
A year later, that monster disappears. David loses his damn mind. He turns his investigation on me, tearing our lives apart to prove I am responsible.
When he is finally forced to rule me out, he doesn't apologize. Instead, he warns me, "Lily is gone forever, but Jessica's son still has a future. Stop coming after them!"
I just offer him a smile.
"Don't worry, honey," I whispered, patting his cheek. "He's not coming back. Not ever."
*****
I never trusted Jessica Monroe's son. There was always something sly and shifty in his eyes, a rat-like cunning that made my skin crawl.
My husband, David Collins, just said I was jealous because Jessica was his ex.
He always flashed that charming smile and ruffled my hair.
"She has her son, and I have you and Lily. It's not like that between us. Don't be so hard on the boy."
But every time I headed out to make deliveries for my restaurant, I would kneel down and look my daughter in the eyes. "Stay away from Ethan Monroe, Lily. Promise me."
That day, when I got home, Lily was gone.
Frantic, I called David, who was a policeman. He pulled the security footage, which showed Lily walking out of the neighborhood, trailing behind Ethan.
David's brow furrowed in that way he has when he's thinking. I slammed my hand on the table.
"It's him! It has to be him!" I screamed.
But David, ever the professional, decided to gently question the boy first.
Ethan was already at home, happily eating dinner with his mother.
When David and I burst in, Jessica leaped to her feet, arguing in an accusatory tone, "My son would never kidnap your daughter! If your girl likes to run off and play, that's your problem, not his!"
Despite David trying to stop me, I shoved my phone in her face, the video playing on a loop.
Only then did Ethan stammer, his eyes darting to his mother.
"We were just playing a game."
He looked up at us seriously. "Hey, kids don't go to jail for this stuff, right?"
My mind went blank. A high-pitched ringing filled my ears.
Ethan led us to an abandoned construction site.
When the cops tore down the brick wall, my daughter's body spilled out.
She had been stuffed into a coarse woven feed sack, a plastic bag pulled tight over her head. Her eyes were wide, fixed in a permanent state of terror. She had suffocated.
It started, Ethan explained, as a game of Pictionary by our community gate. He charmed her, earned her trust, and lured her here.
He told her he was going to teach her how to escape from any knot. He let her tie him up a few times, showing her how easily he could slip free.
When Lily was bouncing with excitement, desperate for her turn, he tied her up instead.
He used a dead knot, one that only gets tighter the more you struggle.
"I just love little girls," Ethan said, looking up at me with childish innocence. "They're so soft, and they smell so nice. Way more fun to play with than boys."
The police wouldn't let me touch her. I could only stand there, frozen, as they bagged her body, snapped photos, and collected evidence.
There were hickeys on her neck, trailing down her small chest.
She wasn't wearing any pants.
"I'll kill you!" I screamed.
I grabbed a discarded steel pipe and lunged at Ethan, but strong arms wrapped around me, holding me back.
It was David. He wrenched the pipe from my hands.
"Helen, are you out of your mind?" he yelled.
"Let me go! I'm going to kill that little demon!" I thrashed against his hold, like a wild animal caught in a trap.
Jessica shrieked, clutching Ethan to her chest as if he were the victim.
She turned to David. "Dave, do something! Stop her!"
"Helen Carter!" David roared, his voice cracking like a whip. "Look at me! Trust me. I'm a cop!"
He was one of the best police, a man with a reputation for closing every case.
With the last shred of sanity I possessed, I forced myself to go limp. I told myself to trust the system.
"You'll get justice for her, won't you?" I pleaded, my voice trembling. "For our Lily. I just bought her that pretty dress this morning..."
He pulled me into his arms, soothing, "Of course, baby. Of course. I'm her father."