Chapter Nine
The woman steps into the room, her eyes a blizzard freezing me in place. In those few awful moments, I’m ten years old again. All that’s missing from this scenario is the stink of B.O. and gin, and the memory would be complete.
A few seconds later, the panic fades, and I see not my mother but Chrissy’s. She has blonde hair, the same shade as her daughter’s. There’s a tightness to the skin covering her cheeks that doesn’t look…natural. She’s had work done, that’s for sure.
“Whoever you are,” she seethes, “you get out of my daughter’s room right now, or God help me, I’ll—”
“Mrs. Marsh?” Natalie exits the closet, her credentials open and facing the incensed woman. “Detective Rojas, PPD.”
Mrs. Marsh stares at Natalie’s badge and identification, but her expression doesn’t soft
