Page 47 of The Perfect Nanny

“What?” I slap my hands down on my legs. “That’s not fair. You have no clue what I’m thinking.”

He chuckles and pulls the turn signal down to make a left at the next street. “You’re thinking this could somehow work against you and what if…what if…and…what if. Can you tell me I’m wrong?”

I huff out a lungful of air because there is no way to sway my thoughts in any other direction. Every decision I make will have a consequence and if everything isn’t thoroughly thought out, I could… “What will they do if they find out a nine-year-old girl is responsible for the death of her sister?”

“There are child correctional programs and psychiatric facilities that specialize in helping children who have conditions that need to be addressed. If one of the girls did do something to her sister, it does need to be handled. You can’t spare her of what trouble lies ahead because you wouldn’t be helping her in any way.”

“What if it wasn’t really her who took the baby into the ocean?”

“The evidence says otherwise,” Liam argues valid points.

“Which is why I’m worried that she could be the dad’s scapegoat maybe.”

“Or the mother could be too. That’s true. But that’s not your trial and case. That will be theirs to determine. Right now, you need to clean your hands of this situation because you had nothing to do with it and you shouldn’t be involved, regardless of how awful this all is.”

“All I can ask is ‘why’ to everything. Why weren’t there pictures of the baby? Was Fallon even their baby?” I’ve gone from questioning the existence of a baby to wondering if the poor thing was kidnapped and drowned by these rich gold diggers. Maybe it’s another ploy to suck someone dry of their money just like Lara’s family did to mine.

Our conversation carries us into the parking lot of the police station, and I can’t believe I’m back here for the third time in three days.

I wonder what they’re thinking when they see me walk through the front doors again. I still haven’t gotten an answer on the unknown caller, and I know nothing about the suspect they have in custody.

“Back again?” the dispatcher at the front desk says as a greeting. She’s middle aged with blonde hair tied up into a coiled bun with bangs that must be held firmly in place by a lot of hair spray since each strand sways together side to side as she speaks.

“Yes, ma’am. I—I have evidence, or what I believe to be evidence regarding the Smith baby. Is Detective Straton in by any chance?”

Her brows arch as she glances down at her computer screen and types something out. “No, he’s off for the night. Someone else can help you,” she says before radioing an officer to come out to the front.

Another detective steps out from the double doors. He is older than Detective Straton, has salt and pepper dark hair, a golfer’s tan, and age lines that tell me he’s been here a while and is around the same age as my parents.

“Haley Vaughn?” he asks.

“Yes, sir.”

“I’m Detective Ray. You were here the other night for questioning, correct?”

“Yes, sir.”

“And you are?” he says, turning his attention to Liam.

“Liam Gellar, a friend of Haley’s.”

“Okay, why don’t you come back into a room with me so we can discuss what you’ve found.”

We follow the detective through the steel door frames and barren walls and the nerves in my stomach are already preparing for the unknown. I’m sure the question of why I was there in the first place is going to be forefront before we even get to the video, but I have no choice.

The room is identical to the one I was questioned in the other night, empty with a table and a few chairs. I wish I could be on the other side of the table, asking what I think might help get to the bottom of this case because then I might be calm and relaxed, sipping from a steaming hot Styrofoam cup of coffee.

“I have video footage of the Smiths confessing that one of their daughters was responsible for the baby drowning in the ocean. They were by the shore behind their house, she with aflashlight and he in diving gear.” The words are hard to get out in just a couple of flowing sentences without running out of air. My heart is racing like I just sprinted up a steep hill and I’m shaking. I don’t know if I’m worried this will work against me or if this is the key to letting me be free of this nightmare.

Detective Ray places his coffee cup down and presses his elbows down against the table to lean in closer to my side of the table. “You have this on video?” he asks, disbelief flaring his nostrils.

I swallow hard and place my unlocked phone on the table with the video ready to play. “Yes, sir.”

He runs his hand through his hair and leans back against his seat. “Wait a minute. Why were you on the Smith’s property tonight?”

My face scorches with heat. “With all due respect, sir, I’ve been blamed by the family, stalked by an unknown contact, and attacked on the street. I know the police department is doing everything possible to get to the bottom of this but it’s hard to sit in my apartment like a squatting duck, waiting to be targeted again. My gut told me something isn’t right with that family, and I wanted to see if?—”

“They happened to be outside, talking about the death of their child?” Detective Ray tilts his head to the side, questioning my actions, which I knew would happen.

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