Chapter 6 - The First Victim
Sarah Miller was 34, tall, with long brown hair and the same hard, tired look in her eyes I saw in the mirror every morning. She sat down at our table, sliding a thick manila folder across to me.
“I was 14 when he took me,” she said, her voice steady. “Everyone thinks it was just the assault. But it wasn’t. He kept me in that cabin for three days. Your mom brought me food. She told me if I told anyone, he’d kill my little brother.”
She opened the folder, pulling out old letters, handwritten in my mom’s loopy cursive. “Don’t worry, Derek,” one read, dated 2004. “I’ll make sure the Millers take the money. Sarah won’t talk. You just leave town for a while, and I’ll take care of everything. You know I’d do anything for my little brother.”
Another letter, dated a month later: “I found the perfect replacement for Sarah. Rachel’s 14 now, just like she was. She’s staying with her aunt for the summer, but when she gets back… she’s yours. To make up for all the years you lost.”
I felt sick. My own mother had planned to give me to Derek when I was 14. That’s why my dad had sent me to stay with my aunt in Ohio that summer—he’d found the letters, he’d tried to save me. And when that didn’t work, when Derek had left town, they’d waited 20 years, and then they’d given him Lily instead.
Sarah pulled out one more thing: a tape recording, old and scratchy. She pressed play.
My mom’s voice, clear as day: “She owes me. I gave her life. The least she can do is give Derek what he wants. One little girl, for all the years we took from him. It’s only fair.”
My dad’s voice, quiet, defeated: “What if Rachel finds out?”
“She won’t,” my mom said, cold. “We’ll say she wandered off. The cops will believe us. They always do.”
I looked at Megan, her face ashen. “Did you know about this?” I said, my voice shaking.
She shook her head, tears streaming down her face. “No. I swear. I had no idea she was gonna give you to him too.”
Jake, who’d been sitting quiet in the corner, leaned forward. “This is it,” he said. “This is the proof we need. The letters, the tape—this proves premeditation. Conspiracy. They’re not gonna walk. Not this time.”
That afternoon, we took everything to the attorney general. The next day, my parents were re-arrested, charged with conspiracy to commit kidnapping, human trafficking, and accessory to assault. The corrupt cops were picked up too, charged with obstruction of justice and racketeering.
For the first time since that night in the parking lot, I felt like we might actually win.
But that night, as I was tucking Lily into bed, she pulled something out from under her pillow. It was a small, silver locket, the kind that opens to hold a photo.
“The man gave this to me,” she said, quiet. “He said it was yours. That you were supposed to be his first, but Grandma messed up. He said now it’s mine, to remember him by.”
I opened the locket. Inside was a photo of me, 6 years old, grinning on the beach, holding a handful of seashells.
My hands shook. Derek had been planning this for 20 years. He’d never forgotten me. And if we hadn’t stopped him, he would’ve hurt Lily just like he’d hurt Sarah, just like he’d planned to hurt me.
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I threw the locket in the trash, holding Lily tight. “He’s gone, baby,” I whispered. “He can never hurt you again.”
The next morning, Jake called, his voice urgent. “We got a problem,” he said. “Your mom made bail. And she’s got a lawyer—one of the best in the state. He’s already filed a motion to suppress the letters and the tape, says they were ‘illegally obtained.’ The judge is gonna hear it tomorrow. If he throws it out, they walk.”
