Chapter 2 - What Lily Had Seen
Judith’s face lost all color.
Reverend Collins lowered himself until he was level with Lily. “Tell me what you remember, sweetheart.”
Lily twisted her fingers together. “We were at Grandma’s house when Mommy and Daddy took the babies to the doctor. Grandma had bottles that looked like Mommy’s, and she poured white powder into them.”
A murmur spread through the chapel.
Judith stepped forward. “She is confused. She’s four years old.”
Lily shook her head urgently. “You were talking on the phone. You said the babies were keeping Daddy trapped and that you were going to fix everything.”
Ethan released my arms.
Judith tried to reach for Lily, but Reverend Collins placed himself between them. “Do not come any closer.”
Lily began crying. “Grandma gave me cookies and said it was our secret. She said Mommy and Daddy needed help because there were too many children.”
Someone called the police. Judith hurried toward the side exit, but several relatives blocked the aisle. Cornered, she turned toward me, and the polished dignity she had worn for decades fell away.
“Those children were consuming his entire future,” she shouted, pointing at Ethan. “He could have done something important with his life if you had not kept giving him reasons to stay!”
“They were his sons,” I said.
“They tied him to you.”
“They loved him.”
Judith’s expression hardened. “You were never worthy of this family.”
Two officers arrived moments later. While one took Judith aside, the other received a call from the team searching her home. His expression changed as he listened.
“They found a notebook,” he told us. “It contains names, dates, and handwritten observations.”
Judith suddenly screamed, “Don’t read it!”
Ethan turned toward her. “Why?”
She said nothing.
The officer continued cautiously. “Your name appears in the notebook, Mr. Whitmore. The entry dates to when you were about nine months old.”
Ethan swallowed. “What does it say?”
The officer hesitated before answering. “‘Too much. Reduce it next time.’”
Judith began shaking her head. “They are twisting everything.”
“Reduce what?” Ethan demanded.
“You were a difficult baby,” she said. “You cried constantly. Your father worked nights, and I was exhausted.”
The officer warned her to stop speaking, but Ethan stepped closer.
“What did you give me?”
Judith’s gaze moved toward the two small caskets. “I did what was necessary to hold my family together.”
When officers took her by the wrists, she no longer resisted. At the chapel doors, she looked back at Ethan with a strange, private smile.
“Ask your father,” she said.
May you like
“My father was lost in a construction accident when I was six.”
Judith tilted her head. “No, Ethan. That is merely what I told you.”
