"Someone came by the home a few weeks ago," he says. "Said he was a private investigator—former cop. He was looking for a girl who’d been separated from her sister. Said the older one ended up in the group home."
He glances at me, measuring his words.
"Asked me a few questions. Promised he wouldn’t share my name with anyone if I helped him out. Tried to give me a hundred bucks for information."
Cedric shakes his head. "I turned him down. Figured sharing a few memories is one thing. Getting paid for it? That didn’t sit right with me."
“So, you do remember Dani?”
“How could I forget her?” Cedric says, shaking his head slowly. “She was a good kid. In a lot of pain after losing her sister. I swear, that child landed square in Ms. Fletcher’s crosshairs… and the poor thing didn’t even realize it.”
I sit up straighter, every muscle tense. “What do you mean?”
“Ms. Fletcher disliked Dani from the moment she arrived,” he says. “And after you came along asking questions and showing interest, her dislike grew into pure disdain.”
“Did you share all this with the investigator?”
He shakes his head and fiddles with his napkin. “No, sir. It was clear he wasn’t looking for my opinion. He wanted facts.”
I adjust my approach—realizing now my questions need to be clear and specific. “Cedric, what exactly did he ask? And what information, other than your opinion, were you able to provide?”
“Well,” he says, lowering his voice, “I gave him half an hour with Dani’s file. Waited until everyone in the office had gone home for the night. Overnight staff doesn’t go near the admin area—they stay on the residential side. So I slipped him in and out without anyone noticing.”
"Any cameras?"
"The security guard was on break at the time."
I exhale slowly. "Okay. Thank you—for your honesty, and for trusting me.”
He hesitates. There's a shift in his posture, a ripple of unease. "There’s one more thing... I didn’t tell the investigator."
My attention sharpens. "What is it?"
"There’s a box in the attic," he says, his voice low. "It’s labeled with Dani’s name. Ms. Fletcher had me stash it up there years ago after Dani left. I always wondered why she didn’t take it with her... if it was really hers."
Chapter 13
Danielle
“Knock-knock,” Tina calls from the hallway.
“Come in,” I say, stepping back from the bed.
She walks in and stops short. “Wow. It looks amazing in here.”
The bed sits centered between two tall windows, just like Beth wanted—she said she likes waking up to sunlight on both sides. The walls are painted a soft lavender, the color she picked after twenty minutes of flipping through swatches. White sheer curtains hang loosely, pulled back with silver butterfly tiebacks. The same delicate butterflies are embroidered across the comforter in soft purples and pinks.
“Where’s Izzy?” Tina asks, walking over to the nightstand where a framed 5x7 photo of me and Beth sits.
“She left a few minutes ago,” I say, smoothing the comforter.
"I must've just missed her," she says, picking up the picture.
“That's one of the only pictures I have of Beth and me together," I say, glancing at the photo. Beth's arms are around my neck, both of us smiling. "She must’ve been about three.”
“Beth?” she says, meeting my gaze.
“We talked about her name and agreed I’d call her Beth from now on.”
