Eleanor sat under the patio umbrella in a floral dress, sipping iced tea, watching her son with the smile of a woman who thought she would die before consequence ever reached her.
Meline sat at the picnic table in a navy sundress. Calm. Controlled. The navy tote bag rested beside her leg. The binder was inside.
Colleen sat across from her with a bottle of water.
“Watch the side gate,” Colleen said under her breath.
Meline checked the time.
2:15.
Two days earlier, using a burner app that cloned Garrett’s number, Meline had texted Tanya.
I need you. I’m having a panic attack. I can’t do this anymore with my crazy sister. Come to the house at 2:15 on the 4th. I’m telling everyone the truth. I’m choosing you and our son. — Garrett
Reckless lie. Perfect bait.
At 2:17, Garrett’s real phone started vibrating on the prep table.
He looked down.
All the color left his face at once.
His beer slipped out of his hand and shattered on the patio stone.
“Garrett?” one of the neighbors said. “You okay?”
He didn’t answer. He was staring at his phone like it had started speaking.
Then the side gate clicked open.
The yard quieted in pieces.
Tanya walked in.
Eight months pregnant. Pale blue dress. Big belly. Small pale-blue gift bag hanging from one hand like she thought this was still a beginning.
She stepped into the yard and froze.
