“Because of my mother.”
“Then prove it.”
Mary’s eyes filled with tears.
“You want me to be a monster.”
“No,” Andrew said. “I want you to tell the truth.”
Betty left a few minutes later.
Mary and Andrew stood in the kitchen alone.
“I didn’t know,” Mary whispered. “I swear I didn’t.”
Andrew wanted to believe her.
A part of him still wanted the world to go backward.
Back to before the maple tree.
Before the basement.
Before the photos.
Before Harry flinched at his mother’s hand.
But the truth had a weight to it.
And once Andrew felt it, he could not pretend it was not there.
“The police will find out,” he said.
Mary’s voice went cold.
“If you push this, you’ll destroy us.”
Andrew looked at her.
“No,” he said. “I’m finding out who already did.”
The break came two weeks later.
By then, Officer Dennison had phone records showing frequent calls between Mary and Betty during the five years Harry was supposedly dead.
Neighbors had seen Mary’s car at Betty’s house.
Bank documents showed repeated transfers after the insurance money arrived.
Mary had hired an expensive lawyer from Madison.
Her lawyer began building a new story.
Andrew was unstable.
Andrew was obsessive.
Andrew was trying to punish his grieving wife because he needed someone to blame.
It might have worked.
Then Harry had the nightmare.
Andrew woke to screaming.
He ran down the hall and opened Harry’s door.
Harry was sitting upright in bed, drenched in sweat, eyes wide and unfocused.
Mary stood in the opposite doorway in her nightgown.
Andrew went straight to his son.
“You’re safe,” he said. “I’m here.”
Harry clutched his arms.
Then his eyes moved past Andrew.
They landed on Mary.
His face changed.
“You,” Harry said.
Mary froze.
