Chapter 5 - Sarah
Taylor arrived at the hospital shortly after six that evening.
She was taken through a separate emergency entrance under police guard.
I saw her only because Detective Collins asked whether I was willing to speak with her.
The question surprised me.
“She’s my daughter’s mother.”
“She is also part of an active investigation.”
“Do you think she hurt Lily?”
Collins didn’t answer immediately.
“I think Taylor knows more than she has told us.”
That hurt in a different way.
“Do you think she helped Evelyn?”
“I don’t know.”
“Then yes.”
Collins studied me.
“Yes what?”
“Yes, I’ll talk to her.”
Taylor looked nothing like the woman who had stood across from me in divorce court three weeks earlier.
Then, she had worn a charcoal suit and a controlled expression.
Her hair had been perfectly arranged.
She had barely looked at me when the judge declared our marriage dissolved.
Now she sat in a hospital bed wearing a gown, with bruises around both wrists and dried blood near her hairline.
When I entered, she started crying.
“Lily?”
“She’s okay.”
Taylor covered her mouth.
“She’s really okay?”
“She’s alive.”
“She’s warm.”
“She’s sleeping.”
Taylor closed her eyes and cried harder.
I stayed by the door.
Part of me wanted to hold her.
Another part wanted answers.
“Did you know?”
She looked at me.
“About the freezer?”
I asked.
Her face collapsed.
“Yes.”
The word nearly knocked the air out of me.
“How long?”
“Ryan—”
“How long?”
“The first time was three weeks ago.”
“The first time you knew about.”
She looked down.
“Yes.”
“How many times did you know?”
“Three.”
My jaw tightened.
“Lily says six.”
“I didn’t know about the others.”
“That’s supposed to make me feel better?”
“No.”
“Why didn’t you call me?”
“I tried.”
“When?”
“Tuesday.”
“You packed Lily’s suitcase.”
Taylor looked surprised.
“She told you?”
“Yes.”
“I was bringing her to you.”
“Why didn’t you?”
“My mother found the bag.”
“Then you call police.”
“She threatened Sarah.”
I stared at her.
“The sister you never told me existed.”
“I thought she was dead.”
“For how long?”
“Until six months ago.”
“Why did everyone think she ran away?”
“Because my mother told people she ran away.”
“And you believed her?”
“I was ten.”
The answer silenced me.
Taylor wiped her face.
“When Sarah disappeared, Mom said she hated us.”
“She said Sarah blamed me for Emily.”
“She said Sarah left because she couldn’t stand looking at us.”
“Did you see her leave?”
“No.”
“Did anyone?”
“I don’t know.”
“What do you remember?”
Taylor stared at the blanket.
“Not enough.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means there are years of my childhood that feel like broken glass.”
“Little pieces.”
“Images.”
“Sounds.”
“But not whole memories.”
I thought of Lily flinching.
I thought of the freezer.
“What did your mother do to you?”
Taylor’s eyes filled.
“She called it correction.”
“What did correction mean?”
“Whatever she decided.”
“Standing outside in winter.”
“Cold showers.”
“Locked closets.”
“The basement.”
“The freezer?”
She shook her head.
“Not the freezer we have now.”
“There was an old walk-in cooler at my uncle’s property.”
“Gordon?”
“Yes.”
My skin prickled.
“He knew?”
Taylor laughed bitterly.
“Everyone knew enough not to ask.”
I pulled a chair closer.
“Tell me about Emily.”
Taylor became very still.
“I loved her.”
“I know.”
“No.”
“You don’t.”
Her voice broke.
“I loved her more than anyone.”
“She followed me everywhere.”
“She copied everything I did.”
“She wore my sweaters even though they were too big.”
“She slept in my bed whenever there was thunder.”
Taylor covered her mouth.
“The night she died, Mom said Emily had lied about breaking a vase.”
“She took her outside.”
“In winter?”
“Yes.”
“Where?”
“To the lake.”
“Why?”
“To make her stand near the dock.”
My stomach twisted.
“The official story said Emily went skating alone.”
“It was a lie.”
“Did you see what happened?”
“I saw pieces.”
“What pieces?”
“Mom yelling.”
“Emily crying.”
“Sarah screaming.”
“Dad running from the house.”
“Then nothing.”
“Nothing?”
“I remember waking up in bed the next morning.”
“You don’t remember going back inside?”
“No.”
“Why?”
Taylor looked at me.
“I think Mom drugged me.”
I stared at her.
“Are you sure?”
“No.”
“But Sarah remembers.”
“What did Sarah tell you?”
Taylor swallowed.
“That Mom forced Emily onto the ice.”
My chest tightened.
“Why?”
“Punishment.”
“The ice was thin near the dock.”
“Dad had warned us.”
“Mom knew.”
“Emily fell through.”
I closed my eyes.
“And Evelyn didn’t help?”
Taylor’s face changed.
“Sarah says she tried.”
“Mom held her back.”
For a few seconds, I could hear only the hospital ventilation system.
“What about Thomas?”
“Dad ran onto the lake.”
“He got Emily out.”
I frowned.
“But she died.”
“She was alive when he pulled her out.”
That shocked me.
“What?”
“Sarah says Emily was breathing.”
“Dad started CPR.”
“Then Gordon arrived.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know.”
“What happened?”
“Sarah heard Mom and Gordon arguing.”
“About calling an ambulance.”
My stomach dropped.
“They delayed?”
Taylor nodded.
“Emily died before help arrived.”
“Why would they do that?”
“Because if Emily lived, she could tell people what Mom had done.”
I turned away.
The horror of it felt endless.
“And Thomas?”
“Dad knew.”
“That’s why he reported the Explorer.”
“What did the Explorer have to do with it?”
“Sarah.”
I looked back.
“Mom and Gordon took Sarah away after Emily died.”
“In the Explorer?”
“Yes.”
“They told Dad she had run away.”
“Where did they take her?”
“A foster placement.”
I stared at Taylor.
“What?”
“Not officially.”
“Gordon knew someone.”
“A woman who took in children.”
“They changed Sarah’s last name.”
“Why?”
“Because Sarah was the witness.”
“And your father?”
“He found out.”
“That’s why he died.”
Taylor nodded slowly.
“I think so.”
The words were barely audible.
I sat down.
My anger had nowhere to go.
It was too large.
Too old.
Too tangled.
“Why did Sarah contact you six months ago?”
“Because she saw my name.”
“Where?”
“Your divorce filing.”
I froze.
“Court records?”
“Yes.”
“She had been searching for me.”
“When she saw my married name and Lily’s name, she knew she found me.”
“What did she want?”
“To warn me.”
“About Evelyn?”
“Yes.”
“She said Mom had found out she was alive.”
“How?”
“Gordon.”
“Why would Gordon tell her?”
“He was sick.”
“Cancer.”
“He started calling Sarah.”
“He said he wanted forgiveness.”
“Did Sarah forgive him?”
“No.”
“Did she trust him?”
“Not really.”
“But he told her Mom had never stopped keeping records.”
“The tapes.”
“The files.”
“Yes.”
“And the video?”
Taylor nodded.
“Dad gave it to Sarah?”
“According to her.”
“The night before he died.”
“How?”
“She said Dad found her.”
“Where Gordon had hidden her.”
“He couldn’t bring her home because he was terrified Mom would kill her.”
“So he gave her proof.”
“And told her to keep running.”
I leaned back.
For years, I had thought Taylor came from a difficult family.
That phrase now seemed insulting.
This wasn’t difficult.
This was calculated terror stretched across generations.
“Where is the tape?”
“Sarah never told me.”
“Does Evelyn know she has it?”
“Yes.”
“That’s why she’s hunting her.”
Taylor looked at the door.
“And now Gordon is dead.”
“You know?”
“Detective Collins told me.”
“Do you think Evelyn killed him?”
Taylor didn’t hesitate.
“Yes.”
“Could she?”
Another bitter laugh.
“You still don’t understand my mother.”
“I’m starting to.”
“No.”
“She doesn’t get angry and lose control.”
“That’s what everyone gets wrong.”
“Mom plans.”
“Everything.”
“She plans what people will remember.”
“She plans what witnesses will say.”
“She plans which person will look guilty.”
“She made you look dangerous before the divorce.”
“She made me look unstable.”
“She made Sarah disappear.”
“She made Emily’s death look accidental.”
“And she made my father look drunk.”
Taylor looked directly at me.
“If Gordon is dead, she already knows what story she wants police to believe.”
I thought of the custody affidavit.
The missing files.
The deleted camera footage.
“What story?”
“That Sarah did it.”
I felt a chill.
“Why Sarah?”
“Because Sarah has spent twenty-seven years angry.”
“She has reason to hate Gordon.”
“She has reason to hate Mom.”
“She has no official connection to us anymore.”
“And if police suddenly discover a secret sister with a traumatic past and a dead uncle…”
“She becomes convenient.”
Exactly.
Detective Collins entered before I could respond.
“We have a problem.”
Taylor closed her eyes.
“Sarah.”
Collins nodded.
“We found her vehicle.”
“Where?”
“Outside Silver Creek.”
“Is she there?”
“No.”
“Blood?”
“No.”
“Signs of struggle?”
“Nothing obvious.”
“Then what’s the problem?”
Collins held up a clear evidence bag.
Inside was a key.
An old brass key.
“It was on the driver’s seat.”
Taylor stared at it.
“What?”
Collins asked.
“I know that key.”
“To what?”
“Our old house.”
“The house where Emily died?”
“Yes.”
“I thought Evelyn sold it.”
“She did.”
“When?”
“Twenty years ago.”
“Who owns it now?”
“We’re checking.”
Collins looked at me.
“The property has changed hands twice.”
“It is currently owned by a holding company.”
I knew that phrase.
I had heard enough financial conversations during the divorce to understand what it meant.
“Who controls the company?”
“We’re tracing it.”
Taylor started shaking her head.
“No.”
“What?”
“Mom.”
“You think she owns it?”
“I know she does.”
“How?”
“Because she once told me you should never sell the place where people owe you something.”
Collins stared at her.
“What does that mean?”
“I never understood.”
A deputy appeared in the doorway.
He handed Collins a phone.
She listened.
Her face tightened.
Then she looked at Taylor.
“The holding company traces to Diane Foster.”
“The notary?”
I asked.
“Yes.”
Evelyn’s cousin.
Another family connection.
“Is Diane there?”
“Her phone is off.”
“Her home is empty.”
“Do you have units going to the old house?”
“Already on the way.”
Taylor pushed off the blanket.
“I’m going.”
“No.”
Collins’s answer was immediate.
“She might be there.”
“You are a witness and a victim.”
“I don’t care.”
“I do.”
Taylor looked at me.
“Ryan.”
I knew that look.
I had seen it only a handful of times during our marriage.
It meant she was about to do something regardless of what anyone said.
Before I could answer, my phone rang.
Unknown number.
Everyone froze.
I answered on speaker.
“Hello?”
A woman spoke.
Not Taylor.
Not Evelyn.
Her voice was low and controlled.
“Is this Ryan Mercer?”
“Yes.”
“My name is Sarah.”
Taylor gasped.
I looked at her.
“Where are you?”
Sarah ignored the question.
“Is Lily safe?”
“Yes.”
“Is Taylor with you?”
I looked at Collins.
She nodded once.
“Yes.”
Sarah went silent.
Then she whispered,
“Put her on.”
Taylor took the phone with shaking hands.
“Sarah?”
Neither sister spoke for several seconds.
Then Taylor began crying.
“Where are you?”
“At the house.”
“The old house?”
“Yes.”
“Get out.”
“I can’t.”
“Why?”
“Because she’s here.”
Every person in the room went still.
“Mom?”
Taylor whispered.
Sarah’s breathing sounded steady.
Too steady.
“No.”
Taylor frowned.
“Then who?”
Sarah answered.
“Diane.”
The notary.
Evelyn’s cousin.
“What does she want?”
“The tape.”
“Do you have it?”
Another silence.
Then Sarah said,
“Yes.”
Taylor closed her eyes.
“Sarah, police are coming.”
“I know.”
“Then leave.”
“I said I can’t.”
A faint metallic sound came through the phone.
Chains.
I recognized it immediately.
“Are you tied up?”
I asked.
Sarah laughed once.
“No.”
“I locked myself in.”
“Where?”
“The room under the stairs.”
Taylor’s face went white.
“What room?”
“You don’t remember?”
“No.”
“Then Mom did a better job on you than I thought.”
A loud crash exploded through the phone.
Sarah inhaled sharply.
“Diane’s trying to break the door.”
Detective Collins motioned for the deputy to trace the call.
“Sarah, listen to me.”
Collins stepped closer.
“My name is Detective Mara Collins.”
“Officers are approaching the property.”
“Stay where you are.”
Sarah gave a strange little laugh.
“You still think Diane is the problem.”
Collins frowned.
“What do you mean?”
Another crash.
Wood splintering.
Sarah’s voice dropped.
“Diane is scared.”
“Of who?”
“You already know.”
Taylor whispered,
“Mom.”
“No.”
Sarah’s answer came instantly.
“She’s scared of the person Mom is working for.”
The room became silent.
Taylor stared at the phone.
“What person?”
Sarah began to answer.
Then we heard a gunshot.
Taylor screamed her sister’s name.
The phone hit something hard.
For several seconds, all we heard was static.
Then another voice came through.
A woman.
Calm.
Familiar.
Evelyn.
“Ryan.”
Every muscle in my body locked.
“Leave my family alone.”
I stepped closer to the phone.
“You put my daughter in a freezer.”
A soft sigh.
“You always were dramatic.”
Taylor started toward the phone.
Collins held her back.
“Where is Sarah?”
I demanded.
Evelyn ignored me.
“You should have picked up your boxes Friday.”
Then the call ended.
Thirty seconds later, officers entered the old Grant house.
They found Diane Foster unconscious in the kitchen with a gunshot wound to the shoulder.
They found a broken door beneath the staircase.
They found blood.
They found Sarah’s phone.
But they did not find Sarah.
And they did not find Evelyn.
The only thing left inside the room under the stairs was an empty videotape case.
Across the label, Thomas Grant had written a date.
January 14, 1999.
The night Emily died.
May you like
And beneath the date was one sentence.
If you are watching this, Evelyn finally found out I filmed her.
