Chapter 13 - THE YELLOW ROOM
Police reopened part of the house for another search.
Behind shelves in the unfinished basement was a narrow door painted the same color as the wall.
Inside was a small room.
Yellow wallpaper.
One wooden chair.
A bare light bulb.
Scratches near the baseboard.
Aaron refused to enter.
He stood at the doorway and looked twenty years younger.
“I forgot this existed.”
Daniel put a hand on his shoulder.
Aaron stepped away.
“Don’t.”
Daniel immediately dropped his hand.
“Sorry.”
Aaron nodded.
The moment said more about Evelyn’s legacy than any courtroom testimony could.
Trauma didn’t disappear just because someone escaped the house.
Sometimes it waited behind a wall.
Investigators photographed everything.
Then they found initials scratched underneath the chair.
A.C.
Aaron Carter.
T.C.
Taylor Carter.
And near the bottom, written in newer, uneven letters, one single L.
Lily.
Taylor collapsed when she saw the photograph.
She had remembered the room.
But she had convinced herself Evelyn would never use it on Lily.
The same lie again.
She would never do what she did to me.
Except she had.
After the search, I went to my truck and sat alone.
I felt guilty for wanting someone to blame completely.
Evelyn deserved responsibility for what she did.
But I had been absent too often.
Taylor had failed Lily.
And I had missed signs because I was focused on surviving a marriage that was falling apart.
My attorney told me not to blame myself.
But parenting wasn’t a courtroom.
There was no verdict that erased regret.
That evening, I told Lily something I had never said aloud.
“I should have noticed sooner.”
She looked up from her coloring book.
“Noticed what?”
“That you were scared.”
Lily thought for a moment.
“I didn’t tell you.”
“You shouldn’t have had to.”
She climbed into my lap.
“Grandma was good at secrets.”
I held her close.
“Not anymore.”
The criminal trial was scheduled for January.
Then Evelyn sent Taylor a letter from jail.
It contained only six words.
May you like
You started this.
I will finish it.
