I pulled my chair closer to the bed and held Lizzy’s hand beneath the thin blanket.
Her fingers were warm now.
That small change felt enormous.
My mother finally texted late that morning.
Where is she?
There was no greeting and no question about whether Lizzy was safe.
Before I answered, another message appeared.
You ruined everything.
I stared at those words.
Not, Is she hurt?
Not, What happened?
Not, Please tell me she is okay.
You ruined everything.
Adam read the message over my shoulder.
“Don’t call her,” he said.
“I wasn’t going to.”
I took screenshots and added them to the growing collection of records.
Then I looked through the bank photographs again.
I wanted to make certain the dates were readable and that I had captured every page clearly.
One withdrawal caught my attention.
It had been made on the same day Lizzy called me from the closet.
