Gloria hesitated.
“Molly wanted me to pay someone who could help her get free.”
“How much?”
Marian asked.
“Twelve thousand dollars.”
The room went silent.
“Where did you send it?”
Mina asked.
Gloria showed us a payment confirmation for an account belonging to a consulting company called Northstar Family Services.
The company had no public office, no licensed counselor, and a mailing address at a commercial mailbox store.
Gloria had been told the money would fund a private rescue.
She had used part of the college savings account she had created when Molly was born.
I watched Marian close her eyes.
Neither sister said the thing they were both thinking.
The person who had convinced Gloria she was saving Molly might have been the person closest to her.
That evening I drove Tess to a diner that served breakfast until midnight.
The place had cracked red booths and a jukebox that hadn’t played a song in years.
Tess ordered waffles and waited until the waitress left before asking whether Gloria would go to jail.
“I don’t know,” I said.
“She apologized.”
“I know.”
“Are you still angry?”
“Yes.”
Tess considered that.
“Can you be angry and feel sorry for her?”
“I think that’s exactly what’s happening.”
She pushed a strawberry across her plate.
“The kids at school stopped talking about it after the principal sent a message.
But one of them saved the video.”
“I’m sorry.”
“You didn’t make the video.”
“No, but you still had to deal with it.”
She looked toward the rain sliding down the window.
“I wish people knew how to ask one question before they share things.”
I wanted to tell her that adults usually knew better.
Instead I admitted that many did not.
On the drive home, my phone rang through the car speakers.
It was Detective Ward.
“We have identified a second household receiving recordings that mention your address,” she said.
“The family lives ninety miles away.”
“Why would they know me?”
“That’s what we’re trying to determine.”
She paused.
“We’re asking you not to travel alone to the addresses connected with this case.”
I tightened my grip on the steering wheel.
“Am I in danger?”
“I can’t predict that.
But someone went to considerable effort to put a false accusation on you, and we don’t want you testing their intentions.”
Tess was looking straight ahead.
I could hear her breathing.
“Understood,” I said.
The second household belonged to a retired nurse named Hazel Quill.
