Chapter 4: What Serena Left Behind
Diane arrived at the hospital forty minutes later, still in her coat, her hair not fully brushed.
She took one look at Madeline and sat down on the edge of the bed and took both her hands.
"Tell me everything," she said.
So Madeline did.
From the warm milk to the bottle to Preston walking out the door.
Diane listened without interrupting, which was unusual for her.
When Madeline finished, Diane sat very still for a moment.
"How long has Serena been working for you?"
"Eight months."
"And Preston hired her?"
Madeline paused.
"He recommended her.
I did the actual hiring.
She came with references."
"Did you check them?"
"I — yes.
I called one.
The woman said she was wonderful with children."
Diane's expression didn't change, but something behind her eyes did.
"Which woman?"
"Her name was Carol.
Carol Briggs.
She said Serena had worked for her family for two years."
Diane took out her phone.
"Spell the last name."
"Diane—"
"Spell it."
Madeline spelled it.
Diane typed.
A long silence followed, filled only with the sound of the hospital corridor outside and Poppy's slow breathing.
"There's no Carol Briggs in this city with a child under twelve," Diane said.
"There's one in Millhaven, but she's seventy-three and lives alone."
The room felt smaller suddenly.
"Preston gave me the reference list," Madeline said.
Her voice was very quiet.
"He said he'd already vetted them."
Diane set her phone down.
She didn't say anything.
She didn't need to.
Madeline stared at the ceiling.
"He planned this."
"We don't know that yet."
"Diane.
He had the bottle in his pocket.
He lied to the detective.
He gave me a fake reference for the woman who—" She stopped.
"He planned this."
Diane reached over and took her hand again.
"Okay.
Okay.
Then we need to think."
"What is there to think about?"
"Whether you're safe.
Whether Poppy is safe.
Whether Preston knows that you know." Diane's voice was steady and low.
"He thinks you're confused.
He thinks you're going to rest and take his word for it.
That's the only advantage you have right now, and I need you to hold onto it."
Madeline looked at her daughter asleep in the chair.
"What do I do?"
"First — do you have access to your own accounts?
Separate from Preston?"
"We have joint accounts."
"Do you have anything in your own name only?"
"My mother's savings.
She left it to me directly.
Preston doesn't have access."
Diane nodded.
"Good.
Don't touch the joint accounts.
Don't let him know you're thinking clearly." She paused.
"Is there anything in the house that he might want to get rid of?
Documents, a computer, anything?"
Madeline thought.
"My laptop.
It has emails.
Preston and I used to share a calendar — I can see his appointments."
"Can you access it from here?"
"If I log in through the browser, yes."
Diane handed her phone over.
"Do it now.
Before he gets home and thinks of it first."
Madeline's hands were unsteady as she typed.
The calendar loaded slowly.
She scrolled back three months, then four.
She almost missed it.
A recurring appointment.
Every second Thursday.
Labeled simply: *S.*
It had started nine months ago.
One month before Serena was hired.
Madeline turned the phone so Diane could see.
Diane looked at it for a long time.
"Screenshot everything," she said.
"Every entry.
Every month."
Madeline was already doing it.
She was on the seventh screenshot when her phone buzzed with a text from Preston.
*Hope you're resting.
I'll sort things out in the morning.
Don't worry about anything tonight.*
She read it twice.
Then she set the phone face-down on the blanket and kept going through the calendar.
There were fourteen entries in total.
Fourteen Thursdays.
May you like
Fourteen times Preston had written only one letter.
The last one was dated three days ago.
