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Back The Favorite Daughter Save as PDF
Chapters (57)
  1. Cover
  2. Back Cover Text
  3. Booklist
  4. Dedication
  5. Quote
  6. SUNDAY
  7. 1
  8. 2
  9. MONDAY
  10. 3
  11. 4
  12. 5
  13. 6
  14. 7
  15. TUESDAY
  16. 8
  17. 9
  18. 10
  19. 11
  20. 12
  21. 13
  22. 14
  23. 15
  24. WEDNESDAY
  25. 16
  26. 17
  27. 18
  28. 19
  29. 20
  30. 21
  31. 22
  32. 23
  33. 24
  34. 25
  35. 26
  36. 27
  37. 28
  38. 29
  39. 30
  40. 31
  41. 32
  42. 33
  43. 34
  44. THURSDAY
  45. 35
  46. 36
  47. 37
  48. 38
  49. 39
  50. 40
  51. 41
  52. 42
  53. EPILOGUE
  54. DEAR READER LETTER
  55. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
  56. READERS GROUP DISCUSSION QUESTIONS
  57. Best Day Ever

“I told you to ignore the note. Betsy was afraid you’d do this.”

She should be afraid, and I don’t listen to you anymore. “Well, I took it to the detective. And now there’s another one.”

David sighs. “Mary fell and that’s all there is to it. We need to leave it at that.”

No, that isn’t all. “What if Betsy does know something? God forbid, what if she saw something? Caused something? We have to consider it. It’s what someone believes, it’s what the note writer believes.”

David looks at me, shakes his head. “I just can’t imagine anything else but an accident. That has to be the truth. And besides, if this unnamed person really does have something on Betsy, he or she would call the police, right? Maybe it’s just another girl in her class who is jealous of Betsy?”

“No one is jealous of Betsy.” I mean, duh. I know, it’s hard, darling, but try to focus. “There was nobody on the trail that day who remembered seeing them, at least no one who has come forward. Maybe the note writer was afraid to come forward until now, or still is?” I slide back onto the bar stool, suddenly exhausted. Why can’t he see what I’m trying to show him?

“You think someone saw Betsy do something to Mary? You’re wrong.” He shakes his head.

More evidence. Men are clueless. “I just don’t know.” A tear works its way down my left cheek.

“I’m late for work.” David moves slowly through the kitchen. “Don’t push Betsy anymore. We need to just move on. If we talk to Branson we’re just going to cast suspicion on our own daughter. Why would we ever do that? This is her graduation week. She needs to enjoy the final day of high school, not be confronted by her unhinged parents. Enough.” He heads for the door. “I’m going to call Betsy and apologize. You should do the same.”

“But what about the truth?” I am pushing him.

He stops, hand on the front door, and stares at me. “Leave it, Jane. I don’t want to lose the only daughter we still have. I don’t think I could survive that.”

“I know.” That’s true.

That’s what makes all of this so fun.

19

10:00 a.m.

My phone rings and caller ID informs me it’s the school. A shot of adrenaline floods my system. Something has happened to Betsy or she has vanished.

“This is Jane Harris,” I sputter.

“Hello, Jane, it’s Angelica.” The counselor sounds happy.

“What’s wrong?” I’m on alert, I should be.