Chapter 4 — Lauren’s First Lie
Chapter 4 — Lauren’s First Lie
Lauren's first lie had been simple.
Emma fell.
That was all it took.
One sentence.
One frightened expression.
One mother desperate to believe her daughter wasn't capable of hurting a baby.
And somehow, that one lie had grown into an entire wall of silence.
But now the wall was cracking.
And Lauren knew it.
She called me at 8:06 the next morning.
I stared at her name on my screen.
For several seconds, I didn't answer.
James was sitting across from me at the kitchen table.
He looked at the phone.
“Don't.”
“I want to hear what she says.”
“You already know what she's going to say.”
“No.”
I looked at him.
“I know what she said before.”
He understood.
I pressed answer.
“Hello?”
Lauren was crying.
Real crying.
Or at least, it sounded real.
“Rachel?”
“What?”
“I need to talk to you.”
“About Emma?”
Silence.
“Yes.”
“Then talk.”
“I know you're angry.”
“You should know.”
“I never meant to hurt her.”
I closed my eyes.
“You've said that before.”
“I was stupid.”
“You were angry.”
“I lost control.”
“You hit her.”
“I know.”
“You shook her.”
Silence.
Then Lauren whispered:
“Who told you that?”
My heart stopped.
I looked at James.
He immediately understood.
I had never mentioned the shaking.
Not to Lauren.
Not to my parents.
Not to anyone.
“How do you know I know that?”
Lauren didn't answer.
“Lauren.”
“I—I don't.”
“You just said you lost control.”
“I meant Christmas.”
“No.”
My voice became colder.
“I didn't mention Christmas.”
She started crying again.
“I don't know what you want me to say.”
“The truth.”
“I've told you the truth.”
“No.”
I stood.
“You told everyone a story.”
“What story?”
“That Emma fell.”
Silence.
Then Lauren said something that changed everything.
“She was crying.”
I froze.
“What?”
“She wouldn't stop crying.”
“That isn't an answer.”
“I was frustrated.”
“You shook her.”
“I didn't hurt her.”
“You hit her.”
“I said I was sorry.”
“Did you?”
“Yes.”
“To Emma?”
“She couldn't understand.”
“To me?”
“I was scared.”
I stared at the wall.
“You were scared of me?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because I knew you'd hate me.”
“You should have been afraid of what you did.”
She began sobbing.
“I am.”
“No.”
I whispered:
“You're afraid of being caught.”
She hung up.
I stared at the screen.
James stood.
“What did she say?”
“She knew.”
“Knew what?”
“That I knew about the shaking.”
He nodded.
“Then she wasn't surprised.”
“No.”
I looked at him.
“She was waiting for us to find out.”
Two hours later, Lauren appeared at my house.
I didn't invite her.
She simply arrived.
I saw her through the security camera.
She was standing on the porch.
Alone.
No flowers.
No gift.
No apology card.
Just Lauren.
James stood beside me.
“Do you want her inside?”
“No.”
“Good.”
He opened the door but stayed between us.
Lauren looked at him.
“I want to see my sister.”
“You can talk from here.”
“I'm not here to fight.”
James said nothing.
She looked at me.
“Rachel.”
I didn't answer.
Her eyes were red.
“I've made mistakes.”
“That isn't enough.”
“I know.”
“Do you?”
She looked down.
“I don't expect you to forgive me.”
“Good.”
She flinched.
“I deserve that.”
“No.”
I shook my head.
“You deserve consequences.”
Lauren looked at James.
“You've turned her against me.”
James's expression didn't change.
“She doesn't need anyone to turn her against you.”
Lauren's face tightened.
“You don't understand our relationship.”
“No.”
He looked at her.
“I understand enough.”
She looked back at me.
“Please.”
I crossed my arms.
“What do you want?”
“I want to see Emma.”
“No.”
“Just for a minute.”
“No.”
“She is my niece.”
“She is my daughter.”
Lauren's jaw tightened.
“I love her.”
“You hurt her.”
“I made one mistake.”
I stared at her.
“One?”
Her face went pale.
“You know about last summer.”
She said nothing.
“You know what happened.”
“I told you I was sorry.”
“You lied.”
“I was scared.”
“You lied to the doctor.”
“I didn't.”
“You told Mom what to say.”
“No.”
“You changed the story.”
“I didn't.”
I looked at James.
He handed me a copy of the medical record.
I held it up.
“Then explain this.”
Lauren stared at the page.
Her face changed.
“I don't know.”
“You were there.”
“I was.”
“You were holding Emma.”
“Yes.”
“She was injured.”
“She fell.”
“The doctor wrote that the injury wasn't consistent with a simple fall.”
Lauren's eyes moved toward James.
“Did he tell you that?”
“No.”
She looked back at me.
“Who did?”
I didn't answer.
She stepped backward.
“Rachel…”
“Tell me the truth.”
“I am.”
“No.”
I pointed toward the street.
“Leave.”
Her eyes filled with tears.
“You're really doing this?”
“Yes.”
“I am your sister.”
“And she is my daughter.”
Lauren stared at me.
For several seconds, neither of us moved.
Then she whispered:
“You'll regret this.”
James stepped forward.
“Is that a threat?”
“No.”
Lauren shook her head.
“I didn't mean it like that.”
“Then choose your words carefully.”
She looked at him with hatred.
Then at me.
And walked away.
I watched her get into her car.
She didn't drive away immediately.
She sat behind the wheel.
Her hands gripping it.
Then her phone came up.
She made a call.
James saw it too.
“Who is she calling?”
“I don't know.”
We watched.
Lauren spoke for less than a minute.
Then she looked directly at our house.
She had known we were watching.
Then she drove away.
James closed the door.
“We need to find out who that was.”
By noon, my father's attorney called.
I almost didn't answer.
“Mrs. Walker?”
“Yes.”
“My name is Robert Evans. Your father asked me to contact you.”
“Why?”
“He wants to meet.”
“About Lauren?”
“About everything.”
“I'm not interested in another family meeting.”
“This isn't a family meeting.”
“What is it?”
“A warning.”
My stomach tightened.
“From my father?”
“From me.”
I looked at James.
“What kind of warning?”
“Your father believes the situation is becoming dangerous.”
“Because Lauren is angry?”
“No.”
He paused.
“Because someone has been accessing your family's records.”
“What records?”
“Medical records. Security records. Financial records.”
My blood went cold.
“Why?”
“We don't know.”
“Who has access?”
“Your father.”
“Who else?”
“Several people.”
“Names.”
“I can't discuss that over the phone.”
“Then tell me where to meet you.”
He gave me an address.
A law office downtown.
Robert Evans was older than I expected.
He wore a dark suit and carried a thin leather folder.
James sat beside me.
Robert opened the folder.
“Your father has instructed me to tell you something.”
“What?”
“The incident last summer wasn't the only time Lauren was accused of inappropriate behavior around Emma.”
I stared at him.
“What?”
“There was another incident.”
“When?”
“Three months earlier.”
My stomach tightened.
“What happened?”
“Lauren was babysitting.”
“Who allowed that?”
“Your mother.”
“Of course.”
Robert continued.
“Your daughter was found crying in the nursery.”
“Was she injured?”
“No visible injury.”
“Then what happened?”
“She was locked inside.”
I couldn't breathe.
“Locked?”
“For approximately twenty minutes.”
“Why?”
“Lauren said Emma needed to learn to self-soothe.”
I closed my eyes.
That was not discipline.
That was cruelty.
“Why wasn't I told?”
“Your mother believed it was a misunderstanding.”
I laughed bitterly.
“Everything is a misunderstanding.”
Robert looked uncomfortable.
“There is more.”
I looked at him.
“Of course there is.”
He slid a document toward me.
It was an internal family report.
Lauren had been warned.
My mother had signed it.
My father had signed it.
And at the bottom was a statement:
Future childcare involving Lauren is prohibited without direct parental supervision.
I stared at the signatures.
“But they let her babysit again.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Robert didn't answer.
James did.
“Because nobody enforced the rule.”
Robert nodded.
“Correct.”
I felt something inside me harden.
“How many people knew about this?”
“Your parents.”
“Lauren?”
“Yes.”
“Anyone else?”
Robert hesitated.
“Her boyfriend knew.”
“Again.”
“Yes.”
“Who is he?”
Robert closed the folder.
“That is complicated.”
“I don't care.”
“You should.”
He looked at James.
“Because he is not simply Lauren's boyfriend.”
James's expression changed.
“Who is he?”
Robert finally answered.
“His name is Eric.”
I frowned.
“Eric what?”
“Eric Bennett.”
I knew the name.
I had seen it before.
On documents.
On business correspondence.
On an old photograph.
My father had once told me Eric was a family friend.
James looked at me.
“You know him.”
I nodded slowly.
“He works with Dad.”
Robert corrected me.
“He used to.”
“Why did he leave?”
“He didn't.”
My stomach dropped.
“What do you mean?”
“He was never an employee.”
“Then what was he?”
Robert's voice lowered.
“He was your father's private investigator.”
I felt dizzy.
“Why would my father need a private investigator?”
“To monitor financial threats.”
“Against whom?”
“Your family.”
“Did he monitor Lauren?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because your father suspected she was involved with someone who was taking money from the family.”
I stared.
“Lauren?”
“Yes.”
James leaned forward.
“How much?”
“Approximately $80,000.”
I shook my head.
“That's impossible.”
Robert opened another document.
Bank transfers.
Lauren's name appeared repeatedly.
Payments to an account belonging to Eric Bennett.
I looked at James.
“So they were working together.”
Robert shook his head.
“We don't know.”
“But money was transferred.”
“Yes.”
“And Eric was investigating her.”
“Yes.”
“And my parents knew.”
“Yes.”
“Then why did they allow her near Emma?”
Robert looked at me.
“That is the question your father has been trying to answer.”
That evening, I called Dad.
He answered immediately.
“Did Robert tell you?”
“Yes.”
“I should have told you.”
“You should have told me everything.”
“I know.”
“Why didn't you?”
“Because I thought I could handle it.”
“You couldn't.”
“No.”
His voice broke.
“I couldn't.”
I had never heard my father sound that defeated.
“What happened with Eric?”
“We lost track of him.”
“When?”
“Three months ago.”
“Before Christmas?”
“Yes.”
“Then how did Lauren know where he was?”
“I don't know.”
I looked at James.
“Dad.”
“Yes?”
“Did Eric have access to the security footage?”
Silence.
That was enough.
“Dad.”
“Yes.”
My heart sank.
“How much?”
“Everything.”
“Could he access our house cameras?”
“Yes.”
James stood.
I could see his expression change.
“Then the photograph…”
Dad whispered:
“Yes.”
“Eric may have taken it.”
That night, we changed every password.
The security company replaced the cameras.
James contacted the police.
I moved Emma's crib into our bedroom.
And for the first time since becoming a mother, I checked every window before going to sleep.
But the most frightening thing wasn't the possibility that Eric had been watching us.
It was what happened at 1:13 a.m.
My phone buzzed.
One message.
Lauren didn't tell you the whole story.
Another appeared.
She didn't hurt Emma because she was jealous.
I stared at the screen.
Then the final message.
Ask her what happened to the money.
I looked at James.
He was already awake.
“Who sent it?”
“I don't know.”
He took the phone.
Read the messages.
Then looked at me.
“She's hiding something.”
“Lauren?”
“Yes.”
“What?”
“I don't know.”
Another message appeared.
A photograph.
This time it wasn't Emma.
It was Lauren.
Standing beside Eric.
The picture had been taken outside a bank.
Lauren was handing him an envelope.
On the back was written:
This was three days before Emma was hurt.
My heart pounded.
James stared at the photograph.
“Now we know where to start.”
I looked at Lauren's face in the picture.
She wasn't crying.
She wasn't frightened.
She wasn't confused.
She was smiling.
And suddenly I understood something.
Her first lie had not been:
Emma fell.
Her first lie had been much bigger.
She had spent months telling us she was sorry.
But she had never been sorry.
She had been buying time.
And somewhere inside my family's secrets was the reason she had needed it.
The next morning, I was going to ask her.
Not as her sister.
Not as the woman she had spent her entire life manipulating.
May you like
But as Emma's mother.
And this time, I wasn't going to accept the word accident as an answer.
