Page 11 of Beautifully Broken Redemption

“Hello, this is Anna.”

A female voice cut across the line. “Anna Foley?”

“Yes, this is she.”

“I’m Detective Johnson with the Las Vegas Police Department.”

I leaned a hip against the counter, waiting for her to say more. She didn’t. “Do you have someone who needs to be placed at Hope House?”

“I’m sorry, Hope House?”

“The shelter in Sutter Lake. I assumed that’s why you were calling.”

“No, it’s not regarding that.”

I stiffened, my fingers curling tighter around the phone. Flashes of memories danced in my mind. Images that were dark enough to take me under. I focused on my breathing, keeping my voice even. “What can I help you with?”

“You were in Chelsea Foley’s phone as her emergency contact.”

Everything in me seized. “Yes, that’s my sister. Is she okay? Was she hurt?”

Mason shut off the water and moved in closer. I didn’t have the energy or focus to move away.

“I’m so sorry, but your sister was found dead early this morning.”

“What? N-no. That’s impossible. Chelsea wasn’t even in Las Vegas. She was in Portland.” My legs began to tremble. I had no control over them—as if they had suddenly turned to mush.

Mason caught me just as I was about to go down, half guiding, half carrying me over to a chair at the kitchen table. I hardly noticed that either. I could barely hear the detective over the blood rushing in my ears.

“Your sister’s fingerprints were on file from when she was a child. It’s a program a lot of schools have in case a student ever goes missing. Between that and the match to her identification, we know it’s her.”

My fingers began to tingle, and I realized I wasn’t breathing. “How?”

“Do you know if your sister struggled with depression or addiction?”

“What? No. Neither of those.” The question gave me a jolt of adrenaline that my system desperately needed. “She’s one of the healthiest people I know.” Chelsea wouldn’t even let herself or her kids drink soda, saying it was poison.

“Sometimes, people can hide that kind of thing from the ones they love the most.”

Derek’s face flashed in my mind. I knew all about the things people could hide. I knew how those lives could rip apart your existence. But I also knew without a shadow of a doubt that this wasn’t a lie Chelsea would’ve been wrapped up in. It had taken almost a decade for my sister to even speak to me again. Another year before she believed that I was telling the truth, that Derek had lied to the police about my involvement in his operation.

I’d missed so much. Her wedding. The birth of her babies. I’d missed supporting her when her marriage fell apart just weeks after Lyla was born. I’d missed Thanksgivings and Christmases and birthdays. The only thing I hadn’t regretted missing out on was seeing my so-called parents. They had been something I’d been happy to leave in my past.

“She wouldn’t.” I said the words with finality. “She’d never do that to her kids. To me. To herself.” My voice cracked on the last word, but I refused to let the tears come.

Mason wove his fingers through mine, squeezing tightly. I didn’t have the heart to pull away. In that moment, it felt like he was the only thing tethering me to this Earth.

“She had a lethal dose of methamphetamine in her system when she was discovered at a motel just off the Strip.”

My hand clamped down on Mason’s, squeezing hard. “There’s been a mistake. You have the wrong person.”

“Ms. Foley, there’s been no mistake. I’m sorry, but your sister is gone. I know this has likely been a shock for you, but I do need to ask you some questions.”

I could barely comprehend what Detective Johnson was saying. I tried my best to answer what she asked. No, I didn’t know what Chelsea had been doing in Vegas. Yes, I had her children with me. I told her that she was in the process of moving from Portland to Sutter Lake. My eyes burned as I remembered how happy she’d been the day we registered the kids for school next year. How happy I’d been that I was getting a fresh start with the only family I had left.

The click of a pen sounded over the line. “I think that’s everything. You have my number if you need anything. I’ve left a message for your parents, but if you’d like to call them instead—”

Her words cut off in my mind. Just the mention of them sent me hurtling back. I could feel the sting of a slap. The loss of air when an especially vicious punch landed just below my ribs. The physical scars of my father’s anger had long since faded, but the emotional scars would never leave.

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