But after Ava received the lightest possible sentence, we slowly became a family.
Any mention of Chloe caused me unbearable pain, even though years had passed.
On the fifth anniversary of her passing, I made her favorite pie, just as I did every year.
After Daniel left for work, Ava waited until his truck disappeared from view and locked the door.
Then she brought me Chloe’s jacket — the one Chloe had been wearing that night, but the police never found it.
I dropped my glass when I saw it.
“Where did you get that?” I asked in shock.
Ava’s fingers were trembling.
“Is Daniel really at work?” she asked.
“Yes.
Why?”
She sank to the floor and burst into tears.
“I’ve wanted to tell you since you adopted me,” she sobbed.
“But I was afraid of your husband.”
My heart stopped.
“Tell me what?
What do you mean?”
Ava looked me straight in the eye.
I still can’t forget the expression on her face.
“Everything you know about the night Chloe d*ed is a lie,” she whispered.
“You’d better sit down.”
I sat down slowly, my legs no longer steady beneath me.
Ava pressed the jacket against her chest like she was holding something sacred.
“That night,” she said, “Chloe and I never made it to the movies.”
I stared at her.
“What do you mean?”
“Daniel called her.
He told her to come home.
Said it was urgent.” Ava’s voice dropped.
“She didn’t want to worry you, so she told you we were still going.”
My mouth went dry.
“Daniel knew you were out that night?”
Ava nodded slowly.
“He was the one driving.
Not me.”
The room tilted.
“That’s not what the police report said.”
“I know.” Her hands were shaking.
“He told me if I ever said anything, no one would believe me.
