Caleb begins speaking. “Look. I’m not trying to cause anything or create conflict, or whatever my ex-wife will tell you. I’ve been surprisingly happy with how you’ve been around the kids and they seem to love you, despite what they just said. But they haven’t seemed well the last couple of times I’ve come to get them.” His tone remains one I’d associate with a courtroom, a legal hearing. I hear Anneliese’s sharp intake of breath.

“What are you talking about? I assure you, I keep a close eye on them at all times.” There’s silence.

“Gabby and I came to an agreement when you moved in here; I decided that if she trusts you, I trust you. But when she dropped them off on Friday they seemed...different. Less excitable. Less willing to go out and do anything. They became more themselves as the weekend progressed, but no one had notified me that they were sick or anything. Were they? I know I’m away a lot, but I still want to be up-to-date about their health, and I don’t appreciate you keeping those kinds of things from me.”

A creak as Anneliese steps either closer or further away. “I always make sure that they’re as healthy as can be; if there were a bug going around their schools, I’d inform you, even if they seemed fine. There wasn’t, and they were perfectly well on Friday, no fever or anything, but I’ll be on the lookout for any symptoms and notify you right away. It may just be those damn screens. They’re taking over the kids’ lives, making them listless.” Anneliese sounds so sure of herself, so self-possessed. I’m impressed.

Caleb sighs in resignation. “Okay. They’re fine now, so it was probably nothing. Check up on Jordan’s schoolwork, though. I don’t want him falling behind. I’m traveling to Hong Kong and Tokyo the next two weeks, but tell them I’ll FaceTime.” And then I hear him descending the staircase without a goodbye.

I jump to the couch where Lola has been sitting, shame creeping up my neck like tiny knives. Anneliese’s face is placid, no sign of the conversation etched in her brow or temples. But she looks at me for a moment too long, a shared stillness as Lola tap-tap-taps at her game.

And then, “So, what movie should I see?” locking the door behind her.

16

September 1996

The morning after the incident with Mrs. Keller, Annie finds a few hundred dollar bills stacked on the kitchen table, held down by a vase of roses. A folded card sits by the vase, the money. Anneliese in tight cursive, each letter slanted as if running from the other, trying desperately to fall off the page.