Chapter 13: Give Me the Keys

I called my father that night from the professor's kitchen, with the phone flat on the table and Flynn across from me.

The professor stood at the stove with her back to us, stirring a pot that did not need stirring.

Dad picked up on the second ring.

"Saskia?" His voice was thin and fast. "Is somebody hurt? Are you hurt?"

In nine years it was the first time he had asked.

"Nobody's hurt," I said. "I remembered something."

"It's late. Your mother and I are..."

"Mr. Daley stood at the car window with his hand out. He said, 'Lawrence, give me the keys.'"

The line went so quiet I could hear the refrigerator.

"There was a glass in the cup holder," I said. "You told him you were fine. He said there were children on the lawn."

"Saskia."

"I was on the porch with Gran. I was never in the driveway. There wasn't a balloon."

"You were nine years old." His voice had gone strange and flat. "Children remember things that never..."

"Then tell me which part I made up."

He didn't answer.

Flynn hadn't moved, but he had put his hand on the table next to mine, not touching it.

"Who have you told?" Dad said.

"That's your question?"

"Who have you told? Chloe? Your brother?"

"Nobody in the family."

"Good." I heard him swallow. "Don't. Please. Not Chloe, not your mother. Give me a week and I'll..."

Keep reading free with an account. Start The Daughter They Sacrificed Chose a New Life from Chapter 1, then sign up free to read the rest of this chapter.