Chapter 6 - Tessa Finally Told Her Mother What Happened at NightThey returned home after Kai was discharged.
Celeste almost turned around when she reached the driveway.
The house looked unchanged.
Desert evening light.
Pale stucco walls.
The mesquite tree Nolan planted.
Tessa’s bicycle near the garage.
Nothing outside reflected what had happened inside.
Police had removed Opal’s belongings for evidence.
She was no longer permitted on the property.
Still, Celeste checked every room.
Every closet.
Every door.
Tessa followed while carrying Kai’s stuffed elephant.
“You think she’s here?”
“No.”
“You keep looking.”
Celeste stopped.
Children noticed everything.
“I’m getting used to the house being ours again.”
Tessa looked toward the hallway.
“It wasn’t ours when she was here.”
Celeste turned.
“What do you mean?”
Tessa immediately looked as though she regretted speaking.
Celeste crouched.
“I’m not mad.”
“I know.”
“Then tell me.”
Tessa stared at the floor.
“At night, Ms. Opal made rules.”
“What rules?”
“If Kai cried, I couldn’t go into his room.”
Celeste’s skin prickled.
“Why?”
“She said babies learn faster if nobody comes.”
Celeste closed her eyes briefly.
“What else?”
“If I got out of bed after nine, I had to stand in the laundry room for ten minutes.”
“What?”
“She called it resetting.”
Celeste felt anger spread through her chest.
“Did she lock you in?”
“No.”
“Did she touch you?”
Tessa hesitated.
“Sometimes my arm.”
“How?”
“She squeezed it.”
“Hard?”
Tessa shrugged.
Again.
Children used shrugs when the truth felt too large.
Celeste sat on the hallway floor.
“Tessa, why didn’t you tell me?”
Her daughter started crying.
“Because you were already sad.”
Celeste’s chest broke.
“Sweetheart—”
“After Dad died, you cried all the time.”
“I know.”
“Ms. Opal said if we made more problems, you might have to go somewhere.”
“What somewhere?”
“A hospital.”
Celeste went cold.
“She said that?”
Tessa nodded.
“She said grown-ups can break after someone dies.”
The guardianship documents.
The fake messages.
The medical narrative.
Opal had been preparing the children too.
“If I told you she was mean, she said you would get upset and then people would think you were sick.”
Celeste pulled Tessa into her arms.
Her daughter cried against her shoulder.
“I’m sorry.”
Celeste whispered:
“No. Don’t apologize.”
“I should’ve told.”
“You’re telling now.”
“I let her give Kai the bottle.”
“You are ten.”
“But I knew he didn’t like it.”
“You are ten.”
Celeste repeated it until Tessa looked at her.
“You are not responsible for stopping an adult.”
Tessa sniffed.
“Even when I know something’s wrong?”
“You tell.”
“Like the camera?”
“Yes.”
“You stopped her.”
Tessa looked uncertain.
“Police stopped her.”
“You turned the camera on.”
That mattered.
Tessa wiped her face.
Then said:
“There was another bottle.”
Celeste froze.
“What?”
“In Ms. Opal’s bathroom.”
“What did it look like?”
“Blue cap.”
“Who was it for?”
“I don’t know.”
“Did you see her use it?”
Tessa shook her head.
“She put it in her purse when you came home.”
“When?”
“Lots of times.”
Celeste’s anxiety spiked.
Police had searched Opal’s room.
No blue-capped bottle was listed.
“Anything written on it?”
Tessa thought.
“Your name.”
Celeste’s heart stopped.
“My name?”
Tessa nodded.
“It said Celeste.”
Celeste immediately called Detective Keene.
The next morning, officers returned.
They searched areas previously overlooked.
The bottle was found behind a removable panel beneath Opal’s bathroom sink.
Alongside it were empty pharmacy bags with Celeste’s name.
Celeste stared at the evidence photographs.
She had been prescribed medication after Nolan’s death.
Nothing unusual.
A low-dose medication to help with severe anxiety and panic during the worst months of grief.
She had taken it exactly as directed.
At least she believed she had.
Keene asked:
“Did Opal ever pick up prescriptions for you?”
Celeste felt sick.
“Yes.”
“How often?”
“When Kai was newborn, several times.”
“Did you ever notice pills changing appearance?”
“No.”
“Missing?”
“I wasn’t counting them.”
Her pulse increased.
There had been weeks when her anxiety suddenly worsened.
Weeks she blamed on grief.
Sleep deprivation.
Motherhood.
What if—
Keene interrupted her thought.
“We don’t know what happened.”
Celeste nodded.
But the blue-capped bottle had her name.
The label had been partially removed.
And tucked beside it was a handwritten page.
C — reduce for 4 days before appointment.
Celeste stared.
“What appointment?”
Keene turned the page.
At the bottom:
Dr. Harlan — capacity evaluation.
Celeste looked up.
“I’ve never seen a Dr. Harlan.”
Keene’s face became grim.
“No.”
“But Opal had already booked one for you.”
“When?”
“Next month.”
“For what?”
“A psychiatric capacity assessment.”
Celeste could barely breathe.
May you like
Opal wasn’t merely trying to make Kai look sick.
She had been preparing Celeste to look unstable too.
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