One afternoon, Whitney was tugging Amelia around the pool, but Amelia kept trying to unhook her fingers from her mom’s.

“Mommy, let go,” she begged. “I can’t move my arms. Let go so I can swim.”

They’d been at it for a while. She’d shown her the strokes. And Amelia wasn’t wrong. She couldn’t do any of the strokes with Whitney holding her arms. As scared as she was, Whitney released her grip on Amelia. She didn’t move, though. She stayed right by her side, just in case.

But Amelia didn’t need her. Sure, she floundered a bit. Got water up her nose. Swam in a zigzag. But she made it to the other side without any help at all.

And as Whitney watched her in amazement, her daughter’s words rang out in her head:

Let go so I can swim.

SATURDAY, 11:00 P.M.

When she returned from her run, Natalie was on the couch watching TV. Whitney glanced around, wiped her damp forehead with the back of her hand.

“Bruce left?”

“Yeah, he wanted to get home. Rest. Drink a beer. You know. Guy stuff.” She chuckled. “How was your run?”

“Really good.” Winded, she headed into the kitchen to grab a water. Chugged it down swiftly. Then she set the empty bottle on the counter. “I’m gonna go take a quick shower and change. I’ll be right back.”

Afterward, emerging from the steamy bathroom, she cinched on her robe and went to her room. Heading straight to her dresser, she opened the top middle drawer, searching for her favorite pair of pajama pants. White-and-black-checkered, fuzzy material, elastic waistband. The mere thought of them gave her comfort. Her skin was still damp from the shower, and goose bumps rose on her flesh. Finding her jammie bottoms, she happily tugged them out with vigor, causing several other jammies and underwear to spill out as well, along with the envelope of money she’d been saving.

Bending down, she picked up the envelope—and found it was lighter than it should’ve been. Originally, there had been several thousand dollars in it, mostly in hundred dollar bills, and she’d only spent a couple of hundred on Amelia’s birthday shopping spree. When she peeked inside, her stomach plummeted. Empty.

Swallowing hard, she got down on her hands and knees, dug through the clothes that fell. No money. Standing up, she foraged through the drawer. It wasn’t there either.

The money she’d been saving for months was gone.

Who would’ve taken it? No one, not even Amelia, knew she had it.

Actually, that wasn’t true. There was one person.