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It was her smile. It was so stiff, so forced—but also so weak. Like she wanted to smile but at the same time wanted to cry.
But it didn’t seem like Disneyland, unless Mommy was lying about what it was really like. She did that sometimes.
Somebody was talking. Their voices were muffled, like how Mommy and Daddy sounded when they were in their bedroom with the door closed.
He needed his mommy. He’d never gone this long in his whole life without seeing her, and his stomach felt hard and painful. Mommy could fix it. She could always fix everything.
“I’m saying that Hugh killed all of those women and that I’m not Hugh. I’m Trent.”
A pretty exterior that distracts and hides a whole mess of crazy.”
“I love you so much,” she said softly and wrapped her arms around his neck. And she did. She wouldn’t have killed Hugh for them if she didn’t.
