Chapter 4
There were thirty-one letters.
Rachel had written to me almost every week after leaving.
I received none of them.
Police photographed everything before allowing Grace to show me copies.
The first letter began:
Daniel, I know you probably hate me, but Vanessa told me you wanted no contact.
I stopped reading.
“That’s a lie.”
Grace nodded.
The next letter was worse.
Vanessa says you’re already seeing someone. If that’s true, I understand. I just wish you had told me yourself.
I had not dated anyone.
Another letter:
Please tell Mia I love her. Vanessa says she cries whenever my name comes up, so maybe I should stop writing for a while.
I put the pages down.
Vanessa had been carrying messages between us.
Or pretending to.
She told me Rachel didn’t want contact.
She told Rachel I didn’t want contact.
Then she told Mia her mother didn’t love her.
Grace spoke quietly.
“She isolated all three of you.”
“Why?”
“We don’t know yet.”
I thought about the trust.
The forged paperwork.
The school visits.
“She wanted control of Mia.”
“Possibly.”
My phone rang.
Unknown number.
I answered.
“Hello?”
Silence.
Then a woman began crying.
“Daniel?”
I stood.
“Rachel?”
Mia looked up from the couch.
“Mommy?”
Rachel’s breathing broke.
“Oh God. Is Mia there?”
I put the phone on speaker.
“Mia.”
My daughter ran toward me.
“Mommy?”
Rachel sobbed.
“Baby.”
Mia started crying too.
“Why did you leave me?”
The question shattered the room.
Rachel struggled to answer.
“I didn’t leave because of you.”
“Aunt Vanessa said—”
“I know.”
Rachel’s voice hardened.
“I finally know what she told you.”
I sat beside Mia.
“Rachel, where are you?”
“Atlanta.”
“Why?”
“Vanessa convinced me you were filing for full custody.”
“What?”
“She showed me documents.”
Grace leaned closer.
“What documents?”
Rachel explained.
Vanessa brought her papers supposedly filed by my attorney.
They accused Rachel of being unstable and dangerous.
Rachel was already struggling emotionally after our separation.
She panicked.
Then Vanessa connected her with a lawyer.
A lawyer who advised her to leave temporarily.
Grace asked his name.
“Martin Cole.”
Grace immediately searched.
Her face changed.
“There is no family-law attorney licensed here by that name.”
Rachel went silent.
“What?”
“The person advising you may not have been a lawyer.”
I felt sick.
Vanessa had manufactured an entire legal threat to drive Rachel away.
“Why didn’t you call me directly?”
“I tried.”
Rachel started crying again.
“Vanessa said you blocked me.”
I checked old phone records.
My carrier showed Rachel’s number had been blocked from my account eleven months earlier.
I never blocked it.
Grace looked at me.
“Who had access to your phone?”
I already knew.
Vanessa.
She had helped me replace my device after I broke mine during the divorce.
Mia clutched the phone.
“Mommy, are you coming home?”
Rachel hesitated.
“I’m trying.”
Before she could say more, another voice appeared in the background.
A man.
“Rachel, hang up.”
I frowned.
“Who is that?”
May you like
Rachel whispered, “The person Vanessa told me was protecting me.”
Then the call ended.
