Introduction

Two mothers. One missing daughter. One life-changing secret.

In 2019, Leslie Graham is within arm’s reach of her goal to become the news editor at the Dancing Hills Times. At thirty-five, she has it all—a promising career and a close relationship with her two teenage girls, Rhonda and Jillian. But when an old enemy from her past resurfaces, threatening to reveal life-changing information about one of her daughters, Leslie does everything in her power to keep her world from crashing down.

A decade earlier, in 2009, Barbara Morris’s seven-year-old daughter, Nancy, goes missing in Queens, New York. Barbara and her husband frantically search for her. But all is not as it seems in the disappearance of Nancy Morris, and Barbara may not be the innocent victim she’s painted herself to be. After ten years of her life spiraling out of control and Nancy still missing, Barbara decides to head to Dancing Hills, believing she’ll find the answers she’s looking for. Barbara and Leslie’s worlds will collide there, and the secrets of the past will finally be revealed.

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Excerpt

THEN

Saturday, March 7, 2009

Barbara

My left eye is almost swollen shut.

Standing in front of the mirror in our master bathroom, butt naked, I pass my hand over my eye and the black-and-blue marks on my chest. What a mess. If I hadn’t done the damage to myself, I could be the poster child for battered women. I snag my robe from behind the bathroom door and slip it on, wondering how long it’s gonna take for my eye to heal.

I leave the bathroom in a huff, slam the door shut, and flop down on our king-size bed. I’m tempted to jump back in and pull the covers over my head. My gaze travels to the nightstand, to the empty pill bottle, which seems to mock me. Hands trembling, I reach for it, wishing I hadn’t flushed the few pills I had left down the toilet. They keep me from doing things I regret later. Things I don’t want to do. But I need to have a clear mind to execute my plan, and my new meds put me in a fog. The doctor has yet to find something for anxiety that doesn’t make me sick to my stomach or turn me into a walking zombie.

I toss away both the bottle and the thought and walk to the dresser, surveying myself in the mirror once again. Dammit, my eye. I may have roughed myself up a little more than I should have.

I tug on my shoulder-length dreadlocks and wonder where my dark glasses are. I’m gonna need them when we go out. Edward doesn’t know it yet, but we’re going to be searching the neighborhood for our daughter. I know exactly where Nancy is, but I won’t tell him that—not now, maybe not ever.

I’m riffling through the nightstand drawers on both sides of the bed, looking for the glasses, when I run across a picture of Edward with Ronald Johnson, his old teammate. My mind flashes back to the conversation I’d overheard between them. It took everything in me not to confront the two bastards. I had come home early a week ago, and they were so busy drinking and venting about me, they didn’t even register that I was there. I stood in the foyer, taking it all in, every word piercing my heart like a poison dagger.

# # #

“Why’d ya marry her to begin with if you never loved her?”

“What else was I supposed to do? She was carrying my child.”

“Hell, ya didn’t have to marry her. You shoulda just let her have the kid and you coulda got visitation or something like that. You coulda saved yourself all the trouble of screwing chicks behind her back. Sneaking around, having me lie for you all the time. Hell, I’m tired.”

“No child of mine was going to be born a bastard!”

“No one cares about stuff like that anymore.”

“I care. My mother cared. That’s why I married Barbara. My mom’s cancer was terminal. The wedding and the baby gave her something to focus on other than dying.”

“You’re a better man than I am. Barbara’s a bitch on wheels.”

“I know. I’m married to her. But not for long.”

“Shut the hell up. What are you saying?”

“I’m leaving. I’m getting a divorce. I have to…. What I’m about to tell you is going to make you shit bricks.”

“What?”

“She’s been abusing Nancy. The bruises, the scars. Barbara claims Nancy gets them from playing in her treehouse castle, but something’s always been off about it. I’m not buying it anymore.”

“Did you ask Nancy?”

“I did but she just cries and clams up. She’s scared of Barbara. That’s how I know. The woman’s messed up, Ron. You know, her own mother abused her. I didn’t find that out until after Nancy was born.”

“Isn’t her mother in the loony bin?”

“Yep. She pushed her boyfriend down a flight of stairs. Guy broke his neck. Died on the spot. Her lawyer claimed she suffers from bipolar schizoaffective disorder. I think it’s all bullshit. An excuse to get her out of jail.”

“You think Barb has it?”

“I don’t know, and I don’t care. It doesn’t matter. I’m getting out. I took pictures of Nancy’s bruises, and I’ve been talking to a lawyer. I’m not only going to divorce her and get full custody, but I’m going to press charges, have her locked up.”

“When you filing the papers?”

“My lawyer said to give him a couple of weeks.”

“I can’t believe it took you this long.”

“I never wanted my kid to come from a broken home like me, but…I don’t have a choice now. I can’t let Barbara’s abuse slide. I have to protect my baby girl.”

# # #

The sound of the TV blaring downstairs snaps me back to the present. Trembling, I wipe away the tears trickling down my face. I’ve worked so hard to be a good wife and mother. Okay, I struggle, but I’ve given it my all. I just have highs and lows, like any twenty-five-year-old trying to raise a young child and keep a demanding husband happy.

To find out that Edward never loved me, that he’s been cheating on me all these years…it’s devastating. Maybe I could have handled all that, but to learn that he’s also making plans to take my baby away from me and have me locked up…it’s soul-shattering. That’s why I have to make the first move. God and I don’t always have the best relationship—if he even exists—but it seems like he’s looking out for me now. If I hadn’t overheard their conversation, I never would have known what he was up to. I shudder to think that one day I would have come home to an empty house—Edward and Nancy gone, my daughter ripped away from me without warning—and found the police waiting to drag me away in handcuffs.

The TV still blaring, I storm out of our bedroom, lean over the banister, and glare at Edward until he looks up at me.

“Can you turn the TV down, Edward?”

“It’s not that loud. If it was, it would have woken up Nancy. And even if it had, she wouldn’t be complaining—unlike somebody else I know.”

I turn toward our daughter’s closed bedroom door. My eyes fix on the sign that says PRINCESS NANCY’S ROOM. A fond smile spreads across my face when I think about how she’s always wanted to be royalty.

I turn my attention back to Edward, who’s ignoring my request, then march down the stairs, grab the remote from the coffee table, and click off the TV.

“What the hell happened to you?” Edward jumps up from the sofa, and the blanket featuring his former football team’s mascot falls onto the floor, revealing his brown muscular legs and his black silk boxers. Eyes wide with shock, he peers into my face. At twenty-five, he still has his boyish good looks—chestnut eyes framed by bushy brows, a perfect nose, full lips, and a dazzling smile.

He cups my chin to get a better look at the bruise, but I pull away from him. I can’t stand his hands on me. Not since I found out the truth.

“I got up to use the bathroom last night, and I ran into the door.”

“You look like you ran into Mike Tyson’s fist. You need to put some ice on that.” He follows me into the kitchen, hovering over me, watching my every move.

My forehead creases when I see flour on the floor and countertops. Egg shells and spilled milk cover the stove top. Dishes are stacked in the sink. “What happened in here?”

“I made pancakes. You know Nancy likes me to make her pancakes on Saturdays. Her stack’s in the oven.”

“Since we’ve been married, you’ve never once cooked for me,” I say quietly. “You never do anything for me.”

His brows draw together as he stares at me. “I bought you this damn house.”

“No, you inherited this house when your mother died.”

“Don’t try to start another fight so you can kick me out of the bedroom again. You know how much my back hurts,” Edward complains. “That lumpy couch nearly killed me last night. It’s a miracle I was able to go to sleep. And whether you believe it or not, being a coach takes a lot out of me, as much as playing ball ever did. I have to stay fit and rested. And speaking of houses, when is escrow supposed to close on your mother’s place? She’s gonna crap bricks when she finds out you sold it.”

Ignoring him, I pull open the freezer drawer and grab a package of frozen peas, then place the package over my eye. “Why are you staring at me?” I ask, pushing the drawer closed with my hip.

Leaning on the marble island, he says, “Seeing your eye reminds me of that bruise Nancy had on her back a month ago. And the one on her leg the month before that.”

I cringe inside, thinking about the bruises. I didn’t mean to hit her. God knows I didn’t. But I wasn’t going to tell him that, not when he was planning to steal my baby away from me. Instead, I shrug and just say, “She plays hard. You know that about her.”

“Right…” he says, his voice trailing off.

Even if I did tell him, he wouldn’t believe that it really wasn’t my fault. I had missed taking my meds both times, and Nancy wouldn’t listen to me. I begged her to mind me, but she wouldn’t stop screaming. I hate that I hit her. I wish I could take back what I did—I truly hate myself for it. And I promise myself that I won’t ever put my hands on my daughter again.

I know I can keep that promise. I’m going to be the best mother in the world.

“Do you know where my shades are? I searched both of the nightstands—”

“The last time I saw them, they were in that empty fruit bowl in the dining room.” He looks at the wall clock, and his face contorts. “Nancy should be up by now. It’s nearly ten.” He leaves me in the kitchen and heads upstairs.

Heart hammering in my chest, I toss the peas to the side and lean on the sink, telling myself to breathe. I have no idea how he’s going to react when he enters Nancy’s empty bedroom. I take a deep breath and start cleaning the kitchen to settle my nerves. My eyes travel to the refrigerator, which is covered in Nancy’s drawings and photos of her and Edward. Not one of me. My relationship with my daughter floods me with sadness. I love her more than life, but she doesn’t love me the way she loves Edward. She never has. Sometimes I wonder if it’s because I’d wanted an abortion at first. Maybe she felt that when she was inside me.

I got pregnant with Nancy when Edward and I were still in high school. He was the captain of the football team, and I was a nobody. If he hadn’t been drunk at my friend’s party, I don’t think he would even have talked to me. But he did, and we made out, and a month later, I missed my period. He had no idea I’d had a crush on him since our freshman year. And there I was, pregnant with his child. God knows I wanted him, but I was scared of having a baby. I didn’t think I could be a good mother, and I certainly didn’t want to put a child through what my mother had done to me.

I was shocked when Edward told me not to get rid of it. But I do understand why. From the moment my daughter was born, she stole my heart. I can still remember how soft her skin felt and her sweet scent. I wanted to hold her forever, protect her from the world. It breaks my heart to know that so far the only one she’s needed protection from is me.

But things are going to be different now.

Edward bellowing, “Barbara!” jolts me out of my head, and I jump from the noise.

It’s showtime.

I take another deep breath, this time for fortification. I hope I can do this. If I don’t, I could lose my daughter forever, and that is not an option.

Walking to the staircase, I say, “What?”

“Nancy’s not in her room.”

“What do you mean she’s not in her room?” On the inside, I’m a mess, but somehow my voice sounds calm, maybe slightly annoyed.

“She’s not here.”

“Did you check her bathroom?”

“Yes.”

“Hold on a minute.” I climb the stairs, wringing my hands, trying to keep it together. I have to feign innocence, but the closer I get to my little girl’s room, the more I doubt what I’m doing. I have no idea if I can actually pull this off, but it’s too late to back out now. When I get to the top step, I can see Edward standing in Nancy’s room, his face contorted with fear, swiveling his head like he’s expecting her to come out of one of the four walls.

I join him. “Stop playing. Where is she?”

The look he gives me is one of pure terror. “I’m telling you, she’s not here.”

I glance around the room decked out in princess décor, and my eyes lock on the unmade pink canopy bed. I drop to my knees.

“I already looked under the bed,” Edward says. “She’s not there.”

Getting up from the floor, I go to the closet and fling it open. The only things in there are the princess dresses I bought her, school uniforms, casual clothes, and shoes. Acting like I’m tired of playing hide and seek, I feign exasperation and ask Edward, “Where is she?”

He parts his lips as if to speak, but then he bolts, screaming her name. I run after him.

“Nancy. Nancy. Where are you?” He turns to me, frantic. “Barb, you check downstairs, and I’ll check up here.”

I nod and descend the stairs, craning my neck for any signs of our daughter in case he’s watching me. I run into the living room and from there into the dining room. I run to the guest bathroom. Of course, it’s empty.

“Nancy, where are you?” I scream, making a beeline for the laundry room. Then I hurry toward the back door. “Nancy? Nancy! Stop playing. You’re scaring me. Where are you?”

I walk outside to our snow-blanketed backyard and look around, shivering in my robe, pretending that I have no idea where she is. I look over my shoulder a few times, to see what Edward’s doing. Turning around, I fix my gaze on the treehouse he turned into a miniature castle and head that way. Before I can reach it, Edward, still in his boxers, brushes past me and sprints up the ladder. He sticks his head inside.

“She’s not up here, Barb, and she’s not upstairs.” His ragged breath is visible in the air. He jumps off the ladder onto his bare feet.

“She’s not downstairs, either.” I hold my hand to my chest, trying to calm my racing heart. At least my worry about my plan is working in my favor—it probably looks like I’m worried about Nancy too. I deserve an Emmy for this.

“Where is she?” His knees buckle, and he falls to the grass.

“I don’t know!” I say, gazing down at him. I frown, as if I’m thinking. “Could she have snuck out of the house last night to play with Debra—”

He shakes his head. “She and Geralyn Rose left already. The U-Haul was gone when I got up this morning. And I would have heard her if she’d left out the front door.”

“She could have gone out the back door and left the house through the side gate.”

“We need to check the block,” he says, rising to his feet. Now that he has a new plan of action, his face fills with determination.

But I have a different plan. Filling my voice with terror, I say, “What we need is to call the police. She’s only seven. And it’s freezing out here. She could get hypothermia.”

He runs a hand over his head, eyes wild. “I…the police…that…” he says, grimacing.

“What? What’s wrong with you?”

“That makes it so real…. Calling the police is like…I don’t know. It’s terrifying. I don’t want to believe she’s really missing. Can we just check the neighborhood? She may have left the house while we were sleeping this morning. Maybe she’s hanging out with one of the neighborhood kids.”

I feign reluctance, then agree with him, and we rush upstairs to get dressed before heading out to knock on doors.

Bundled up in our overcoats, we leave our house in Queens, New York and exchange worried looks. It’s 10:30 in the morning, and so quiet that if the leaves on the trees lining the street weren’t covered in snow, you’d probably be able to hear them rustling. If I didn’t know any better, I’d probably be worried about Nancy too, just from how eerie it is outside. When I was a kid, neither rain nor sleet could keep us from going outside to ride our bikes and skates on the weekends. Most of the kids nowadays are stuck indoors on their computers or playing video games, even when the sun is shining.

Edward pulls me into an awkward hug. Holding me, he whispers in my ear, “I’m scared, baby. What if our little girl has been taken?”

I scan the middle-class homes, as though I’m imagining my one-and-only child bound and gagged in somebody’s basement. “Don’t talk like that.” I pull out of his grasp, push my dark sunglasses up my nose, and take charge. “Let’s start on this side of the street.”

“Okay,” he says, and he follows me.

My stomach is churning as we walk to the house next door. I ring the bell, and we both jump at the sound of barking.

“Get down, Duke,” a baritone voice rings out from the other side of the door. We step back when it creaks open. Our neighbor, Larry O’Sullivan, looks at us, clearly surprised. “I figured you were Jehovah’s Witnesses.” He rubs his stubbled chin, waiting for us to tell him why we’re at his door.

Before Edward can say anything, I blurt, “Have your girls seen Nancy? Did she come over here last night or this morning?”

“Who’s at the door, Larry?” a female voice echoes from inside.

“It’s Ed and Barb,” Larry calls over his shoulder. “They’re looking for Nancy.”

Carol O’Sullivan comes to the door, wide-eyed and breathless. “You can’t find Nancy?” She plants her hands on her narrow hips, waiting for me to answer.

“She wasn’t in her room this morning,” Edward says. “We’ve looked all over the house.”

“Hold on a minute,” Carol says. She flips her long black hair over her shoulder as she turns and leaves us standing there.

“You guys don’t have to wait outside,” Larry says, opening the door wider. “Come on in.”

“That’s okay,” Edward says. “If she’s not here, we need to keep moving.”

Returning, Carol says, “The girls haven’t seen Nancy. Have you called the police?”

“We wanted to check the neighborhood first,” I say.

Carol’s blue eyes widen in disbelief. “No, you need to call the police now!”

I sigh, feigning frustration with my husband. “I wanted to, but Edward was afraid.”

“I wasn’t afraid,” he snaps.

I take my phone out of my jeans pocket and make the call. While I’m on the phone, Carol suggests that she, Larry, and Edward start knocking on doors. They put on their jackets and head out, asking me to stay with their girls. I nod, watching them walk away while I wait for my call to be answered. After a few rings, it is, and through manufactured sobs, I tell the 911 operator that my baby girl is missing. view abbreviated excerpt only...

Discussion Questions

From the author:

1) Do you think Leslie made the right decision the night everything changed and if not, why and if yes, why? What would you have done?

2) Although Barbara was clearly the antagonist, did you at any time feel sorry for her and why?

3) Do you feel individuals with mental illnesses should be given a pass in regard to criminal acts and if yes, why? And if no, why?

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