Chapter 8
Vincent denied ordering anyone to starve the children.
Technically, I believed him.
Men like Vincent rarely gave ugly instructions that clearly.
They created incentives.
Other people supplied the cruelty.
“I told Rebecca to keep Sarah from creating chaos.”
“How?”
“I gave her money.”
“How much?”
He named a number that made Lily’s eleven dollars feel obscene.
Rebecca and Grant had been receiving enough each month to feed those children ten times over.
I looked at Vincent.
“So Lily wasn’t poor.”
He sighed.
“Sarah was difficult.”
I felt my jaw tighten.
“She had money sent for her children.”
“Yes.”
“And Grant controlled it.”
“I didn’t know that.”
“Did you care?”
Silence.
That was the answer.
Lily looked at him.
“Why couldn’t we buy milk?”
Vincent looked uncomfortable.
Good.
Adults like him preferred discussing strategy with adults.
Children destroy strategy by asking literal questions.
He crouched slightly.
“Sweetheart, I never wanted you hungry.”
Lily backed away.
“No.”
One word.
She did not want him close.
Vincent straightened.
His face hardened.
“She’s been taught to fear me.”
I stared.
“No.”
Then looked at Lily.
“She learned.”
That distinction mattered.
I asked Vincent where Sarah was.
He claimed he did not know.
Then I showed him Grant’s reaction when Lily handed me the memory card.
His eyes shifted.
Small.
“What?”
Nothing.
I stepped closer.
“Grant knows where she is.”
Vincent said nothing.
I understood.
“You had Grant move her.”
“No.”
“Rebecca?”
Silence.
“Where?”
Vincent finally exhaled.
“Old Carter farmhouse.”
Lily gasped.
I turned.
“You know it?”
She nodded violently.
“Mom said never go there.”
My eyes returned to Vincent.
Of course.
The place Sarah taught her child to avoid was the exact place Vincent used.
We left immediately.
Vincent came with us.
May you like
Not because I trusted him.
Because if Sarah was dead, missing, or hurt, I wanted the man who buried her existence to see what his silence had purchased.
