They would describe the closet as a harmless punishment, if they admitted she had been there at all.
If I approached them with nothing but rage, they could turn the argument toward my behavior.
Lizzy could become an afterthought.
Worse, someone might eventually accept their performance and send her back.
I could not let that happen.
So while Adam stayed beside Lizzy’s bed, I returned to the house.
I did not return as Gloria and Walt’s daughter.
I returned as someone collecting the truth.
The rain had slowed, but water still ran along the curb when I pulled into the driveway again.
The house remained dark.
Inside, the family photographs looked different.
Their smiles no longer suggested warmth.
They looked arranged.
I began with the kitchen because my mother kept bills, receipts, and bank envelopes in a drawer near the refrigerator.
The drawer was crammed with unopened mail, folded statements, store receipts, and envelopes with handwritten notes across the front.
