She was following them.
I sat frozen on the edge of the bed, replaying the video again.
7:42:16.
Grant walked through the daycare entrance holding Lucy’s hand.
The woman stayed several steps behind.
7:42:24.
Grant opened the door.
Lucy looked back.
The woman stopped.
Then the video ended.
I swallowed hard and replayed it.
Again.
And again.
There was something about the woman’s posture that made my stomach tighten. She wasn’t looking at her phone. She wasn’t walking toward the building. She wasn’t waiting for someone.
She was watching Lucy.
I turned the volume up.
The video had no sound at first, only the distant noise of traffic and children’s voices from inside the daycare.
Then, near the end, I heard something.
A man’s voice.
Very faint.
“She’s with me.”
I froze.
That wasn’t Grant.
I knew my husband’s voice better than anyone.
I rewound.
“She’s with me.”
I stared at the screen.
The voice came from somewhere behind the camera, probably one of the parents entering the building.
But then I heard another sound.
A woman’s voice.
“Not for long.”
My heart slammed against my ribs.
I stopped the video.
For several seconds, I couldn’t move.
Then I looked at Grant.
He was still asleep.
His face looked peaceful.
Too peaceful.
I quietly got out of bed and walked into the hallway.
My hands were shaking so badly that I almost dropped the phone.
I locked myself in the bathroom before calling Paige.
She answered on the second ring.
“Did you see it?”
“Yes.”
“Did you hear the voices?”
There was silence.
Then Paige whispered, “I heard them.”
“Who is that woman?”
“I don’t know.”
“Why did you send me this?”
“Because I wasn’t supposed to.”
My breath caught.
“What do you mean?”
“I found something else.”
My fingers tightened around the phone.
“What?”
“I need you to come here.”
“Now?”
“Yes.”
“Paige, it’s almost three in the morning.”
“I know.”
Her voice cracked.
“And Natalie… don’t tell Grant.”
I looked toward the bathroom door.
“Why?”
“Because when I checked the footage tonight, someone had already tried to delete it.”
I felt cold all over.
“Someone tried to delete the daycare camera?”
“Yes.”
“How do you know?”
“Because I was the one who restored it.”
I stared at my reflection.
My eyes were swollen from five days of crying. My hair was tangled. I looked nothing like the woman I had been before Lucy died.
Before grief.
Before guilt.
Before I started believing that maybe I had failed my own child.
“Paige,” I whispered, “what else did you find?”
She hesitated.
“Come here.”
The call ended.
I stood in that bathroom for almost a minute.
Then I heard the bedroom floor creak.
I quickly turned off the screen.
“Natalie?”
Grant’s voice came from the hallway.
I opened the bathroom door.
He stood there rubbing his eyes.
“What are you doing?”
“I couldn’t sleep.”
He looked at the phone in my hand.
“Who were you talking to?”
I stared at him.
“Paige.”
His expression changed.
Only for a second.
But I saw it.
Fear.
Then it disappeared.
“Why is she calling you at this hour?”
“She said she found something.”
“Found what?”
“I don’t know.”
Grant stepped closer.
“Natalie, you need to stop doing this to yourself.”
“Doing what?”
“Digging.”
His voice was gentle.
Almost loving.
But something inside me recoiled.
“Lucy is gone,” he said. “Nothing you find on some daycare camera is going to change that.”
I stared at him.
“How do you know what the camera shows?”
He blinked.
“I don’t.”
“You just said nothing on the camera would change anything.”
“Because that’s where she was when it happened.”
“No,” I said quietly. “That’s where you dropped her off.”
He frowned.
“What are you talking about?”
I walked past him.
“I need some air.”
“Natalie.”
I kept walking.
“Where are you going?”
“To see Paige.”
He grabbed my wrist.
Not hard.
But hard enough.
“Not tonight.”
I looked down at his hand.
Then at his face.
“Let go.”
He did.
Immediately.
But his eyes had changed.
The softness was gone.
“Natalie, you’re grieving.”
“I know.”
“You aren’t thinking clearly.”
“Maybe.”
I picked up my coat.
“But for the first time in five days, I think I might actually be thinking.”
His jaw tightened.
“Don’t go.”
I opened the front door.
“I’ll be back.”
He stood in the hallway watching me.
And just before I closed the door, he said something that made me stop.
“Paige doesn’t know what she thinks she knows.”
I turned.
“What does that mean?”
Grant stared at me.
Then he shook his head.
“Nothing.”
I left.
The drive to Little Pines felt endless.
Every street looked unfamiliar even though I had driven those roads hundreds of times.
At a red light, I pulled over and replayed the video.
This time, I zoomed in on the woman.
Her face was mostly hidden.
But there was something familiar about her coat.
I had seen it before.
Then it hit me.
Three weeks earlier.
At Lucy’s pediatric allergy clinic.
A woman had been sitting in the waiting room.
Beige coat.
Dark hair.
She had looked at Lucy.
I remembered thinking she was staring too long.
I had asked Grant about her afterward.
He had laughed.
“You see danger everywhere.”
I closed my eyes.
Was that the same woman?
When I reached Little Pines, the parking lot was empty.
One light burned inside the building.
Paige opened the side door.
She looked terrified.
She was twenty-eight, usually cheerful, always wearing bright sweaters and silly earrings that Lucy loved.
Tonight, she looked exhausted.
“Come in.”
I followed her.
The daycare felt completely different at night.
The colorful walls seemed dull.
The tiny chairs looked abandoned.
Lucy had sat in one of those chairs every morning.
Her name was still written on the little cubby.
LUCY PARKER.
I touched the letters.
My throat tightened.
Paige watched me.
“I’m sorry.”
I nodded.
“Show me.”
She led me into the office.
Two computer monitors were lit.
The security footage was open.
“Your husband arrived at 7:42,” she said.
“I saw.”
“But look at the next camera.”
She clicked.
The screen changed.
It showed the parking lot from another angle.
Grant’s car pulled in.
He parked.
Lucy got out.
But Grant didn’t walk directly inside.
He stood beside the car for almost thirty seconds.
Then he opened the rear passenger door.
I leaned closer.
“What’s he doing?”
Paige paused the video.
“There.”
I saw Grant reach into the back seat.
He pulled something out.
A small insulated bag.
My heart stopped.
“What is that?”
“I don’t know.”
“Can you zoom in?”
Paige enlarged the image.
The bag was white with a blue stripe.
I recognized it.
It had been in our kitchen.
My stomach turned.
“That’s Lucy’s lunch bag.”
Paige looked at me.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
I had packed it every morning.
But that morning, Grant had said he would handle everything.
I suddenly remembered something.
“Her lunch.”
“What?”
“She didn’t have it when she arrived at the hospital.”
Paige frowned.
“Are you sure?”
“I remember asking where it was.”
She stared at the screen.
“Maybe he took it back.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know.”
I watched the footage again.
Grant removed the lunch bag.
Then he looked around.
Not casually.
Carefully.
Like he was checking whether anyone was watching.
He opened the bag.
My hands went cold.
“Stop.”
Paige paused.
“What?”
“Zoom in.”
She did.
Inside the bag was a small plastic container.
The lid was red.
I knew that container.
I had packed Lucy’s allergy-safe crackers in it.
But there was something else.
A small white packet.
I stared at it.
“What’s that?”
Paige shook her head.
“I don’t know.”
“Can you get the footage from the entrance?”
She switched cameras.
Grant walked toward the building.
The woman followed.
Then something happened that made my blood run cold.
The woman caught up to Grant.
She said something.
Grant stopped.
They spoke for several seconds.
Then Grant handed her something.
A small object.
The woman put it into her coat pocket.
“What did he give her?”
Paige zoomed in.
The image became blurry.
But the shape was clear.
A key.
I whispered, “Why would my husband give that woman a key?”
Paige didn’t answer.
I looked at her.
“You said someone tried to delete this footage.”
She nodded.
“Who has access?”
“Only the director, the owner, and me.”
“Anyone else?”
“Technically the security company.”
I stared at the screen.
“Can you tell when the footage was deleted?”
Paige pulled up the system log.
“Here.”
There was a timestamp.
11:18 p.m.
Tonight.
My heart sank.
Someone had tried to erase the footage only hours ago.
“Why tonight?”
Paige shook her head.
“I don’t know.”
Then she pointed at another line.
“Wait.”
“What?”
“Look at this.”
The system showed the login.
I read the name.
GRANT PARKER.
I stopped breathing.
“That’s impossible.”
Paige looked at me.
“Why?”
“Because Grant doesn’t have access.”
“Apparently he does.”
I stared at his name.
“Could someone have used his account?”
“Maybe.”
“Can you find the IP address?”
Paige nodded.
She clicked through several screens.
Then her face went pale.
“What?”
She didn’t answer.
“Paige.”
She turned the monitor toward me.
The access came from a location less than two miles from our house.
I felt sick.
“That’s not enough,” I whispered.
“No.”
She opened another screen.
“This is.”
It showed the exact address associated with the login.
I recognized it immediately.
It was our own home.
Someone had accessed the daycare system from inside my house.
Tonight.
While I was sleeping.
While Grant was beside me.
I stepped back.
Paige grabbed my arm.
“Natalie.”
I looked at her.
“There is more.”
She opened another file.
“This was recorded by the daycare’s audio system.”
A short clip played.
At first, there was static.
Then Grant’s voice.
“If she asks, you never saw her.”
A woman’s voice answered.
“What if she remembers?”
“She won’t.”
Then the woman asked:
“And Natalie?”
There was a pause.
Grant answered.
“She already thinks it was her fault.”
My knees nearly gave out.
Paige caught me.
I covered my mouth.
I couldn’t breathe.
My husband had said those words.
He had used my guilt.
My grief.
My love for Lucy.
He had counted on me blaming myself.
I whispered, “When was this recorded?”
“Two days before Lucy died.”
I stared at her.
“Two days?”
Paige nodded.
“There’s another recording.”
“Play it.”
She hesitated.
“Paige.”
She clicked.
Grant’s voice came through again.
“We have to keep the story simple.”
The woman’s voice answered.
“What about the child?”
Grant said nothing.
Then the woman whispered:
“She wasn’t supposed to die.”
My entire body went numb.
Paige stopped the recording.
I stared at the screen.
“What did she say?”
“She wasn’t supposed to die.”
I repeated the words silently.
Lucy wasn’t supposed to die.
That meant something had gone wrong.
Something they had planned had gone differently.
I looked at Paige.
“Who is she?”
“I don’t know.”
“You must know something.”
“I don’t.”
“Paige, please.”
She looked away.
Then she whispered, “I saw her before.”
“Where?”
“At Lucy’s allergy clinic.”
My heart pounded.
“When?”
“The week before Lucy died.”
“Did she speak to you?”
“No.”
“Did she speak to Grant?”
Paige nodded.
“Yes.”
“When?”
“The day before Lucy died.”
I felt the room spinning.
“What did they say?”
Paige swallowed.
“Grant asked me whether Lucy had ever been given anything by another child.”
I stared at her.
“What?”
“He said Lucy had been complaining about stomach pain. He wanted to know if she’d eaten something at daycare.”
“And what did you say?”
“I told him no.”
“Then?”
“He asked me about emergency medication.”
My stomach dropped.
“What emergency medication?”
“The epinephrine.”
“Why?”
“He said he wanted to make sure we had enough.”
I stared at her.
“We had two.”
“I know.”
“Then why would he ask?”
Paige’s eyes filled with tears.
“Because one was missing.”
I couldn’t speak.
“What?”
“The morning Lucy died, one of the injectors was gone.”
I felt a wave of nausea.
“I packed two.”
“Only one was found in her backpack.”
“Why didn’t anyone tell me?”
“Grant told us you had probably misplaced the second one.”
I shook my head.
“No.”
“What?”
“I never misplaced it.”
I remembered that morning.
I had checked the bag.
Two injectors.
One in the outside pocket.
One in the inner compartment.
I had touched both.
I was certain.
Then something even worse came back to me.
After Lucy died, Grant had emptied her backpack.
He had told me he couldn’t stand looking at it.
He had taken everything upstairs.
I had never seen the second injector again.
I whispered, “He took it.”
Paige looked at me.
“Maybe.”
“No.”
I looked at the screen.
“He took it.”
A sudden sound came from the hallway.
Footsteps.
Paige froze.
Someone was walking toward the office.
Slowly.
I turned off the monitor.
The footsteps stopped outside the door.
Paige grabbed my hand.
The doorknob moved.
Once.
Twice.
Then a man’s voice came through the door.
“Natalie?”
My blood turned to ice.
Grant.
I looked at Paige.
She looked terrified.
The door opened.
Grant stood there.
He wasn’t wearing the jacket from earlier.
He had changed clothes.
His eyes were fixed on me.
“Come home,” he said quietly.
I stared at him.
“How did you know I was here?”
He didn’t answer.
Instead, he looked at Paige.
Then at the computer.
Then back at me.
And for the first time since Lucy died, my husband didn’t pretend to be sad.
He looked angry.
“You should never have watched that video.”
I stepped backward.
“Why?”
His jaw tightened.
“Because now you’re going to start asking questions.”
“I already am.”
He took one step toward me.
“Natalie, listen to me.”
“No.”
My voice shook.
But I didn’t move.
“You lied to me.”
“I was trying to protect you.”
“From what?”
He looked at Paige.
Then at me.
“From the truth.”
I felt tears burn my eyes.
“What truth?”
Grant stared at me for several seconds.
Then he said something I will never forget.
“Lucy wasn’t the person they meant to kill.”
My heart stopped.
“Who was?”
He looked toward the dark hallway.
Then back at me.
“You.”
And before I could ask another question, the lights inside Little Pines went out.
