CHAPTER 2: THE SAFE PERSON
CHAPTER 2: THE SAFE PERSON
Thomas stared at the paper for several long seconds.
The ink had faded from being folded and unfolded countless times, but the words were still clear.
Catherine Mason.
Mom's friend. Safe person.
Someone had written it carefully, deliberately—as if they had known there might come a day when two frightened little girls would have no one else to turn to.
He looked at Lucy.
"Who gave this to you?"
The twins exchanged one of those silent conversations only they seemed able to have.
Finally Lily answered.
"Our mommy."
The room became impossibly still.
"You've seen your mother recently?"
Lucy slowly shook her head.
"No."
"When did she give you this?"
"Before she got sick."
Thomas felt a knot tighten in his chest.
"What happened to your mom?"
The girls' eyes dropped to the floor.
"She died."
Neither child cried.
They simply stated the fact the way children sometimes do after grief has become older than they are.
Lily rubbed the edge of the paper between her fingers.
"She told us that if anything ever got really bad... if nobody believed us... we had to find Miss Catherine."
Thomas sat down in the armchair opposite them.
"Did you ever try?"
Lucy nodded once.
"We weren't allowed."
The story came out in fragments.
Their mother, Rebecca, had been diagnosed with an aggressive autoimmune illness nearly two years earlier. As her health declined, she had relied more and more on her older sister, Patricia, for help.
At first Patricia had seemed generous.
She brought groceries.
She drove Rebecca to doctor's appointments.
She smiled whenever social workers visited.
Everyone praised her.
"Your sister is an angel."
Rebecca never believed it.
According to Lucy, their mother would wait until Patricia left before locking the front door and kneeling in front of the twins.
"If anything happens to me," she would whisper, "remember Catherine Mason."
She had written the address on a piece of notebook paper.
Then she folded it into a tiny square.
Lucy had hidden it inside the lining of her winter jacket.
"I never let Aunt Patricia find it," Lucy whispered.
Thomas carefully unfolded the paper again.
The address was only fifteen minutes away.
"What happened after your mother died?"
The question hung in the room.
Lily answered without looking up.
"We went to Aunt Patricia's house."
"Were there other relatives?"
"A grandma," Lucy said.
"But she lives in Florida."
"Anyone else?"
Both girls shook their heads.
Thomas's stomach tightened.
"So Patricia became your guardian."
Another nod.
"And that's when..."
He couldn't finish.
Lucy did.
"She said we cost too much."
The details emerged slowly.
Breakfast disappeared first.
"If you're hungry," Patricia would say, "drink water."
Then came the chores.
Cleaning bathrooms.
Scrubbing floors.
Washing dishes by hand.
Polishing furniture until midnight.
Any mistake meant punishment.
Standing outside in the cold.
Sleeping without blankets.
Going to bed without dinner.
Thomas clenched his jaw.
"And the bruise on your face?"
Lucy instinctively touched her cheek.
"I broke a plate."
"It slipped."
"I said it was my fault," Lily interrupted quickly.
"I dropped it."
"No," Lucy said firmly.
"You didn't."
The sisters looked at each other.
Each trying to take the blame.
Neither willing to let the other carry it alone.
Thomas had seen loyalty before.
He had never seen it survive abuse like this.
Then Lily quietly rolled up her sweater sleeve.
Thomas felt his breath catch.
Thin, pale scars crossed her forearm.
Not fresh.
Not accidental.
Small straight lines.
Parallel.
Deliberate.
"What happened?"
Lily hesitated.
Lucy answered.
"The ruler."
Thomas frowned.
"What ruler?"
"Aunt Patricia has a wooden ruler."
Lily whispered.
"If we forgot chores..."
Thomas couldn't speak.
Then Lucy reached toward her own shoulder.
"We have more."
She didn't remove her shirt.
She didn't need to.
Her expression told him enough.
"But..." Thomas asked carefully.
"...you said she marks you."
The twins froze.
For the first time that evening, genuine panic flashed across both faces.
Lucy looked toward the hallway, as though Patricia might somehow appear.
Then, with trembling fingers, she pulled down the collar of her oversized T-shirt.
Just enough.
Thomas saw it.
A tiny burn scar.
Round.
Perfectly circular.
Old.
He felt every muscle in his body lock.
"She used..."
Lucy swallowed.
"...the fireplace poker."
Lily squeezed her sister's hand so tightly her knuckles turned white.
"She said animals need brands."
Thomas looked away.
Not because he doubted them.
Because he suddenly couldn't trust his own expression.
His hands were shaking.
He stood and walked into the kitchen before the girls could see the tears filling his eyes.
He leaned against the counter.
His breathing came fast.
Elizabeth.
He thought of Elizabeth.
She had spent her career as a pediatric nurse.
More than once she had come home exhausted after reporting suspected abuse.
"People always ask why children don't tell," she'd once said.
"They do tell.
Adults just don't listen."
Thomas had listened tonight.
And now he carried the unbearable weight of knowing.
His phone vibrated.
Unknown number.
He answered quietly.
"Hello?"
A sharp female voice exploded through the speaker.
"Is this Thomas Grayson?"
"Yes."
"This is Patricia Wells."
Thomas's pulse spiked.
"Who gave you this number?"
"The police."
She sounded furious.
"You have my nieces."
Thomas said nothing.
"They ran away again," Patricia continued.
"They're troubled girls. Liars. Manipulative. Their mother spoiled them."
Still he remained silent.
"I'll be there in fifteen minutes."
"No."
The word came out calm.
Solid.
Patricia laughed.
"You don't understand."
"I understand enough."
"They belong to me."
Thomas looked toward the sleeping twins in the living room.
"No," he said quietly.
"They don't belong to anyone."
"You have no legal right—"
"And neither do you," Thomas interrupted.
"I've already called Child Protective Services."
That wasn't entirely true.
He had been trying to reach the emergency after-hours line.
No one had answered yet.
Patricia hesitated.
Only for a second.
Then her voice changed.
Colder.
"If you interfere..."
"I'll tell them everything."
Another pause.
"You think they'll believe two damaged little girls?"
Thomas remembered the burn scar.
The bruise.
The fear.
"Yes."
Patricia laughed again.
"You have no idea who you're dealing with."
The line went dead.
Thomas immediately dialed again.
This time he refused to stop until someone answered.
Within twenty minutes, an emergency CPS investigator and a sheriff's deputy were on their way.
While he waited, he looked once more at the folded paper.
Catherine Mason.
He couldn't shake the feeling that Rebecca had trusted this woman with her daughters' future.
If that was true...
Then Catherine might hold the key to everything.
Including the reason Patricia seemed so confident no one would believe the twins.
Outside, Christmas snow continued falling across Lakeside.
Inside the little rental house, three children finally slept beneath warm blankets.
Thomas remained awake.
Watching.
Waiting.
And silently preparing for a fight he had never expected to have.
Because something told him this wasn't simply a case of child abuse.
Rebecca had left behind a name for a reason.
May you like
And before Christmas was over, Thomas was going to find Catherine Mason—
—even if uncovering the truth destroyed everything Patricia had built.
