Chapter 1 - The Question Lucy Wasn’t Supposed to Ask
The first time Lucy mentioned the cold, Hannah almost missed it.
It was Friday afternoon, and the sky above Maplewood had already turned the dull silver-gray that came before the first serious snow of winter. Hannah Mercer was driving home from preschool with the heater humming and an untouched coffee cooling in the cup holder.
Four-year-old Lucy sat quietly in the back seat.
She was usually full of questions.
Why did birds know where south was?
Did the moon follow their car?
Could stuffed animals dream if nobody was looking?
But that afternoon, Lucy had said almost nothing.
She traced circles through the fog gathering on the window while the radio announcer warned that a winter storm would arrive sometime Saturday night.
“Could be eight inches by Sunday evening,” the announcer said cheerfully. “So get those shovels ready.”
Lucy’s finger stopped.
“Mommy?”
“Yes, sweetheart?”
“Will Daddy’s door still work if it snows?”
Hannah glanced into the rearview mirror.
Lucy was staring down at Mr. Buttons, the battered stuffed rabbit she carried almost everywhere.
“Which door?”
“The one that beeps.”
Hannah frowned.
Their house had an alarm system. The side entrance from the garage beeped whenever it opened.
“Of course it’ll work.”
Lucy nodded.
But something in her expression bothered Hannah.
It wasn’t exactly fear.
Fear would have made sense.
This looked more like caution.
Like Lucy already understood that some questions could cause trouble.
Hannah waited.
“Why are you asking?”
Lucy immediately returned to drawing on the window.
“No reason.”
Four-year-olds weren’t supposed to say no reason like that.
Hannah felt something tighten inside her chest.
She almost asked again.
Then her phone rang through the car speakers.
Owen.
Her husband had been working late all week, supposedly preparing for an important presentation at the financial firm where he was a senior partner.
Hannah answered.
“Hey.”
“Hey. I’m probably going to be late again.”
Lucy’s head lifted at the sound of his voice.
“How late?”
“Ten, maybe eleven.”
Hannah sighed.
“Owen, that’s four nights this week.”
“I know.”
“We hardly see you.”
“I’m doing this for us.”
There it was.
The sentence that ended every argument.
Hannah looked at Lucy in the mirror.
The little girl had lowered her eyes again.
“Okay,” Hannah said. “Drive carefully.”
Owen paused.
“Is Lucy there?”
“Yes.”
Another pause.
“Tell her Daddy loves her.”
Hannah expected Lucy to smile.
She didn’t.
After the call ended, Hannah said, “Daddy says he loves you.”
Lucy squeezed Mr. Buttons.
“I know.”
Nothing more.
That evening, Hannah made macaroni and cheese and let Lucy watch a movie before bed.
Everything seemed normal.
Almost.
At seven thirty, Hannah helped her daughter into pajamas.
Lucy climbed beneath her blankets while Hannah placed Mr. Buttons beside her pillow.
“Mommy?”
“Yes?”
“Is ten minutes a long time?”
Hannah smiled.
“Depends.”
“How?”
“Well, ten minutes at the playground feels really short. Ten minutes waiting for cookies feels forever.”
Lucy considered this.
“What about outside?”
“Outside where?”
Lucy pulled the blanket toward her chin.
“When it’s cold.”
Hannah’s smile disappeared.
“Why are you asking me that?”
Lucy looked toward the bedroom door.
Then she whispered, “I’m sleepy.”
“Lucy.”
The little girl closed her eyes.
Hannah sat beside her for several minutes.
Eventually Lucy’s breathing slowed.
Hannah walked downstairs.
Owen didn’t arrive home until nearly eleven.
He came through the garage carrying his briefcase, brushing tiny flakes of snow from his shoulders.
“You’re awake?”
“We need to talk.”
He stopped.
Hannah was sitting at the kitchen island.
“About?”
“Lucy.”
That changed something in his expression.
Only for a fraction of a second.
“What about her?”
“She keeps talking about being outside in the cold.”
Owen loosened his tie.
“Kids say weird things.”
“She asked if ten minutes was a long time to be outside.”
“So?”
“So three nights ago she crawled into our bed freezing.”
Owen opened the refrigerator.
“She kicks her blankets off.”
“She said, ‘Ten minutes is long when you’re cold.’”
His hand stopped.
Hannah noticed.
Then he took out a bottle of water.
“You’re reading too much into it.”
“Does Lucy ever spend time outside alone?”
He looked at her.
“Of course not.”
“Never?”
“Why would she?”
Hannah studied him.
Owen smiled, but it wasn’t his normal smile.
“Hannah, seriously.”
“I’m asking a question.”
“And I answered.”
He kissed her forehead.
“You’re tired.”
The gesture should have comforted her.
Instead, Hannah felt strangely dismissed.
Saturday passed quietly.
The storm arrived after midnight.
By Sunday morning, the world outside their windows had disappeared beneath white.
Lucy stood at the glass watching the snow.
“Pretty,” Hannah said.
Lucy nodded.
Owen entered carrying his coat.
“I need to run to the office.”
Hannah stared at him.
“In this?”
“Roads are still open.”
“On Sunday?”
“Client emergency.”
He kissed Hannah.
Then he crouched beside Lucy.
“Be good for Mommy.”
Lucy’s expression changed.
Hannah saw it.
A flicker.
Owen saw Hannah watching and stood quickly.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
He left.
Around noon, Hannah received a call from her mother. Her father had slipped on ice outside their house.
He wasn’t badly injured, but Hannah’s mother was frightened and needed help.
Hannah grabbed her coat.
“Lucy, honey, we need to visit Grandma.”
Lucy was building a block tower.
“No.”
Hannah blinked.
“Sweetheart?”
“I want Daddy.”
“He’s working.”
Lucy knocked down the tower.
“I want Daddy.”
Hannah had rarely heard her daughter sound so determined.
She called Owen.
Surprisingly, he answered.
When Hannah explained, he said, “Bring her to me.”
“To the office?”
“I’m actually heading home. Meet me there.”
Twenty minutes later, Hannah pulled into their driveway.
Owen’s SUV was already parked outside.
He took Lucy from Hannah.
“I’ve got her.”
“You sure?”
“Go help your parents.”
Hannah hesitated.
Lucy stood beside Owen clutching Mr. Buttons.
“You okay, baby?”
Lucy nodded.
But she wouldn’t look at Hannah.
Hannah kissed her forehead.
“I’ll be back before dinner.”
She drove away.
Her father turned out to have only bruised his hip.
By four thirty, Hannah was heading home.
Snow had begun falling harder.
Traffic slowed.
At 5:07, she called Owen.
No answer.
5:13.
No answer.
5:19.
Still nothing.
Something began crawling beneath Hannah’s skin.
She called again.
Straight to voicemail.
Then she remembered Lucy’s words.
Ten minutes is long when you’re cold.
Hannah pressed harder on the accelerator.
By the time she reached their neighborhood, visibility had dropped dramatically.
She turned onto their street.
Their house appeared through the snow.
Lights glowing warmly from every window.
Owen’s SUV stood in the driveway.
One rear door was open.
Hannah stopped the car.
For several seconds she simply stared.
Then she saw something beside the hedge.
Small.
Pink.
Hannah threw open her door.
“LUCY!”
She ran.
Lucy was sitting in the snow.
Her cardigan was soaked.
Her hair clung wetly to her cheeks.
Mr. Buttons was pressed against her chest.
“Mommy?”
Hannah dropped to her knees.
“Oh my God.”
Lucy was trembling violently.
Hannah pulled her close.
“Why are you outside?”
Lucy started crying.
“Daddy said wait.”
“Where is Daddy?”
Lucy pointed toward the house.
The front door opened.
Owen stepped outside.
Behind him stood a brunette woman Hannah had never seen before.
She wore an expensive burgundy coat and carried a metal bucket.
Owen stopped when he saw Hannah.
The woman stopped too.
Nobody spoke.
Hannah touched Lucy’s icy face.
“How long?”
Lucy’s teeth chattered.
“Ten minutes.”
Hannah slowly raised her eyes toward her husband.
Owen’s face had gone pale.
And suddenly Hannah understood something that frightened her far more than the storm.
This wasn’t the first ten minutes.
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And judging from Owen’s expression, he knew exactly what Lucy was talking about.
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