“I escaped because the men they hired got careless,” she said. “One of them left the back door unlocked when he went out to talk on the phone. I ran. I stayed in the woods. I watched the smoke. I heard the sirens.”

She lifted her eyes to mine, desperation and pain swimming in them.

“I watched them hold a service for me, Dad,” she choked. “Today, I watched you stand by a stone with my name on it.”

Her voice broke.

“I wanted to run to you, but they were there too. After you left, they drove out to the lake house. I followed, staying in the trees. I heard them talking on the deck. They were laughing.”

My chest burned.

“Laughing?” I repeated.

“They said the first part of the plan was done,” she said. “They said now they just had to ‘handle you.’”

The Bitter Taste

The words hung in the air between us.

“Handle me how?” I asked quietly, afraid of the answer.

Chloe’s hands twisted the edge of the blanket until her knuckles turned white.