Chapter 4 - WHAT MY SISTER STOLEThe second purple backpack had belonged to me.
It was the center of everything.
Detective Bennett obtained enough information for authorities to visit the property, but I was told repeatedly that I would not be included.
“You stay with the children,” she said. “That’s the most useful thing you can do right now.”
Useful.
I hated that word.
Useful meant waiting.
Useful meant making peanut butter toast while detectives searched for my sister.
Useful meant pretending everything was normal while Emily drew pictures of a house nobody understood.
Ryan spent most of the morning with his attorney.
Child services had interviewed him and apparently found no immediate reason to prevent contact, though the temporary placement remained with me until an emergency custody hearing.
Ryan accepted that better than I expected.
Maybe because he understood that fighting everyone would only make things worse.
Maybe because he had secrets of his own.
After breakfast, I asked him again about March 14.
This time, he told me everything.
Lily had dropped the children at his house that Friday afternoon for what was supposed to be his regular weekend.
She seemed nervous.
“She kept checking the street,” Ryan said.
“For Owen?”
“I didn’t know Owen existed yet.”
Lily left.
Then vanished.
No phone calls.
No texts.
Ryan eventually contacted police, but because Lily was an adult and there was no sign of danger, the response was limited.
Thirty-six hours later, Lily came back.
“She looked exhausted,” Ryan said. “Different clothes. No purse. But she had a paper grocery bag.”
“The money.”
He nodded.
“Forty thousand dollars.”
“You actually saw it?”
“She dropped the bag. Bundles came out.”
“What did she say?”
“That it belonged to a friend.”
“And you believed her?”
“No.”
Ryan investigated on his own.
He found strange deposits in an old joint account they had forgotten to close.
Small amounts.
Then larger ones.
All cash.
Lily told him to stop asking questions.
Two months later, their custody fighting intensified.
“She started saying I was stalking her,” Ryan said.
“Were you?”
“I was trying to figure out where my kids were going.”
That distinction mattered.
But Ryan had still hidden a tracker in Emily’s backpack.
Nothing about this family was clean anymore.
At noon, Detective Bennett called.
Nobody answered at the red house.
Owen’s vehicles were gone.
The property appeared recently emptied.
They were working on a warrant for a fuller search.
That afternoon, Emily asked if she could take a nap in my bed.
I tucked her beneath my comforter.
She watched me for a long time.
“Aunt Claire?”
“Yes?”
“Is Mommy bad?”
My chest tightened.
“No.”
It was the answer I wanted to believe.
So I changed it.
“Mommy has made some choices I don’t understand.”
“Is Daddy bad?”
“No.”
Another answer that felt too simple.
“Daddy loves you.”
She seemed satisfied.
Then she whispered, “Mommy said Daddy wanted to steal us.”
“When?”
“At the red house.”
“Who told her that?”
“Grandma.”
I went still.
“Our grandma?”
She nodded.
“What else did Grandma say?”
“Daddy wanted Mommy to have nothing.”
I stepped into the hallway and called my mother again.
Still no answer.
Then I called Dad.
He picked up.
“Claire?”
“Where’s Mom?”
A pause.
“At the store.”
“You’re lying.”
Another pause.
“What’s going on?”
“You tell me.”
“Claire—”
“I found a picture of Mom at a house owned by Owen Mercer.”
Silence.
“You know Owen?”
Dad exhaled.
“Your mother told me not to get involved.”
My knees weakened.
“How long have you known?”
“Not long.”
“Where is she?”
Another silence.
“Dad.”
“She left this morning.”
“With Mom?”
“No.”
“Then where did Mom go?”
“I don’t know.”
“You expect me to believe that?”
His voice cracked.
“I woke up and she was gone.”
My parents had been married forty-one years.
My mother, Susan, did not simply disappear.
I asked Dad to come over.
He arrived twenty minutes later looking ten years older.
Ryan stood when he entered.
Dad barely looked at him.
For most of their divorce, my parents had supported Lily automatically.
Ryan was the outsider.
Lily was family.
That loyalty now embarrassed me.
Dad sat at my kitchen table.
“I knew your mother had been helping Lily.”
“How?”
“Money. Watching the kids. Driving her places.”
“Owen’s house?”
Dad nodded.
“Once.”
“You said you barely knew anything.”
“I said I didn’t know what was going on.”
There was shame in his voice.
Mom had told Dad that Lily was preparing to leave Ohio because Ryan had become controlling.
Mom believed her.
“Did she see evidence?” Ryan demanded.
Dad looked at him.
“No.”
“Did she ask me?”
“No.”
“Did she ask Claire?”
“No.”
Dad stared at the table.
“She believed her daughter.”
Ryan laughed bitterly.
“She helped her daughter abandon my children.”
“We don’t know what Susan knew.”
I interrupted.
“Where could Mom be?”
Dad shook his head.
Then he remembered something.
“There’s a cabin.”
“What cabin?”
“Owen mentioned it.”
“When?”
“Christmas.”
My head snapped up.
“Owen was at Christmas?”
“No. Your mother took a call. I heard his name.”
He explained that Mom had later mentioned Owen owned property near Hocking Hills.
She described him as “a friend helping Lily rebuild her life.”
Ryan immediately started searching.
There were dozens of cabins.
Then Detective Bennett called again.
This time her voice was different.
“We’re inside the red house.”
“What did you find?”
“A basement room.”
My hand tightened around the phone.
“Children?”
“No.”
Relief hit first.
Then dread.
“What’s in the room?”
“Storage.”
“What kind?”
“Documents.”
She paused.
“Claire, I need you to answer carefully.”
“Okay.”
“Has Lily ever asked to use your identity?”
“No.”
“Your Social Security number?”
“No.”
“Copies of your driver’s license?”
“Not that I know of.”
“Tax returns?”
“No.”
“Why?”
Another pause.
“We found a file with your name on it.”
My blood went cold.
“What file?”
“Bank records. Employment records. Property information.”
I looked around my house.
“What for?”
“We don’t know yet.”
Ryan was watching me.
Dad too.
Then Bennett said, “There are files for several other people.”
“How many?”
“At least nineteen.”
“What kind of people?”
“That’s what we’re determining.”
The entire situation shifted again.
Maybe Owen was not just Lily’s boyfriend.
Maybe Lily had been helping him collect information.
Or maybe she was another victim.
Then Bennett asked the question that truly scared me.
“Claire, when did you buy your house?”
“Six years ago.”
“Did Lily help with anything?”
“She helped me move.”
“Did she ever have access to your paperwork?”
“Maybe.”
“Keys?”
“I gave her an emergency key.”
“And your spare?”
I stared toward the hook beside my garage door.
Empty.
I had assumed I misplaced it.
“Claire?”
“My spare house key is missing.”
Ryan stood.
“What?”
Then something clicked.
“The doorstep.”
I hurried outside.
The children had been placed directly beside my welcome mat.
No knocking.
No doorbell.
I checked the camera.
My porch camera had stopped recording at 3:58 a.m.
Restarted at 4:42.
Five minutes before I opened the door.
Someone had disabled it.
Ryan examined the device.
“This requires access to your Wi-Fi or breaker.”
I ran toward the electrical panel inside my garage.
The cover was slightly open.
Someone had entered my property.
Not simply dropped off children.
Entered.
Touched my electrical system.
Possibly entered my house.
Dad looked sick.
Then Jack began crying in the living room.
We rushed inside.
He stood near the couch pointing toward one of the children’s bags.
Something was vibrating.
Ryan unzipped it.
A cheap prepaid phone lay beneath a pile of diapers.
The screen showed an incoming call.
UNKNOWN.
We all stared at it.
I answered.
“Hello?”
For several seconds, there was only static.
Then my mother’s voice.
“Claire?”
“Mom!”
“Listen to me.”
She sounded terrified.
“Where are you?”
“I made a terrible mistake.”
“Are you with Lily?”
“No.”
“Where is she?”
“I don’t know.”
“Mom—”
“Claire, Owen knows where you live.”
My pulse accelerated.
“So did Lily.”
“No.”
Mom’s voice shook.
“You don’t understand.”
“He knew before Lily ever introduced us.”
Silence filled my kitchen.
“What?”
“Owen chose your sister because of you.”
I could barely breathe.
“Why?”
Mom started crying.
“Because your name was already in that basement.”
A noise sounded behind her.
A door.
Footsteps.
“Mom?”
She whispered quickly.
“Find the backpack.”
“It’s gone.”
“No.”
Her breathing grew faster.
“Not Emily’s backpack.”
“What are you talking about?”
May you like
“The other purple backpack.”
Then the line went dead.
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