CHAPTER TWENTY ONE
Riley was terrified by the sound of desperation in her daughter’s voice.
“What is it, April?” she asked.
“It’s Jilly. She’s locked up in her room. She won’t talk to anybody.”
Riley could scarcely breathe now. Less than a month ago, she’d found that her younger daughter had been cutting herself out of feelings of unworthiness. With the help of a therapist and good mother-daughter conversation, they seemed to have gotten past that.
She managed to gasp, “What happened?”
“I don’t know,” April said. “Neither does Gabriela. It started just a little while ago when we were all watching the news on TV in the family room. A reporter started talking about some murder case in Connecticut—something to do with a serial ice pick killer. And then—oh, Mom, I thought I’d gone crazy
