PART 3
The detectives did not tell me about the phone records to frighten me.
They told me because they needed my help.
Detective Morris spread several printed pages across the conference table.
Columns of dates.
Times.
Call durations.
Text message logs.
Nothing looked unusual at first.
Two lifelong friends talking.
That was all.
But then he pointed to a section highlighted in yellow.
“These are the dates your daughter identified.”
I looked closer.
Every single date was followed by a call between Greg and Mark.
Sometimes only minutes later.
Sometimes lasting less than thirty seconds.
Sometimes nearly an hour.
There were dozens.
My mouth went dry.
“What does this mean?”
“It may mean nothing.”
“And if it means something?”
He answered honestly.
“It could mean your husband knew Greg had been at your house.”
“I already knew that.”
“We’re trying to determine whether he knew anything else.”
For the next three days, investigators interviewed everyone connected to Greg.
Neighbors.
Coworkers.
Former girlfriends.
Parents from Hailey’s soccer league.
Teachers.
Old classmates.
Even people he had known years before.
The more they learned, the darker the picture became.
Greg was charming.
Helpful.
Funny.
He volunteered.
Donated to youth sports.
Fixed neighbors’ fences.
Remembered birthdays.
He had built a reputation so spotless that nobody questioned him.
Lauren later explained something that has stayed with me ever since.
“The most dangerous predators rarely look dangerous.”
“They work very hard to look trustworthy.”
Meanwhile, Hailey remained at the hospital.
Not because of her pregnancy.
Because she simply wasn’t emotionally safe enough to leave.
She met with therapists every day.
Some sessions lasted thirty minutes.
Others lasted three hours.
Sometimes she came back looking lighter.
Other days she wouldn’t speak at all.
One afternoon I walked into her room carrying a milkshake.
She smiled.
It was the first genuine smile I had seen in months.
“You remembered.”
“I always remember.”
“You got chocolate.”
“I know my girl.”
She took one sip before setting it down.
“Mom?”
“Yes?”
“Are you angry?”
“About what?”
“That I’m pregnant.”
The question shattered me.
I pulled my chair closer.
“I am angry.”
Her shoulders sank.
“But not at you.”
She looked into my eyes.
“I am angry at the man who stole your childhood.”
She started crying again.
“I don’t even feel like me anymore.”
I reached for her hand.
“Then we’ll help you find yourself again.”
Mark called constantly.
I ignored him.
He left voicemails.
Then texts.
Then emails.
At first they sounded concerned.
Please call me.
I’m worried about Hailey.
Whatever happened, we’ll get through it together.
Then they became frustrated.
Why are the police asking me questions?
Why won’t anyone tell me what’s happening?
Then angry.
You’ve turned my own daughter against me.
Finally…
Threatening.
If you don’t bring Hailey home today, I’ll come get her myself.
Detective Morris immediately advised me not to respond.
Within an hour, officers visited Mark at our house.
That evening, Amanda and I sat on her porch.
Neither of us touched the tea she’d made.
“I keep thinking about something,” she said.
“What?”
“Did you ever notice Greg and Mark arguing?”
I thought.
Then I remembered.
Last Thanksgiving.
The men had stepped outside.
They’d been gone nearly twenty minutes.
When they came back, Greg looked irritated.
Mark wouldn’t look at anyone.
I had asked what happened.
Mark smiled.
“Fantasy football.”
We all laughed.
Now…
I wasn’t so sure.
The next morning Detective Morris called.
“We’ve completed another interview with your husband.”
“What happened?”
“He denied knowing anything.”
“Did you believe him?”
“I don’t make decisions based on instinct.”
“What about evidence?”
“We’re collecting it.”
There was a pause.
“Mrs. Carter…”
“Yes?”
“Did your husband ever keep old phones?”
I blinked.
“What?”
“Old cell phones.”
I thought.
Actually…
He did.
Mark never threw electronics away.
Every old phone went into a locked drawer in the basement office.
“I think so.”
“Where?”
“Our house.”
“We’ll need a warrant.”
Two days later they got it.
I wasn’t there when officers searched the house.
But Detective Morris later walked me through everything.
They photographed every room.
Collected computers.
Tablets.
Hard drives.
Flash drives.
Old phones.
Even security cameras.
Then one officer noticed something unusual.
A wall calendar hanging inside Mark’s office.
Nothing seemed strange until they compared it with Hailey’s statement.
Several dates had tiny blue circles.
The exact same dates Greg had visited while I worked late shifts.
When Detective Morris showed Mark the calendar…
Mark had an explanation ready.
“They’re football games.”
The detective checked.
They weren’t.
None of those dates matched any games.
Then Mark changed his story.
“They’re business appointments.”
His employer confirmed he hadn’t worked those days.
The detective wrote everything down.
Every contradiction.
Every lie.
That afternoon, another breakthrough came from the digital forensics team.
One of Mark’s old phones contained deleted messages.
Most had been recovered.
I wasn’t allowed to read everything.
But Detective Morris summarized them.
“They discussed meeting.”
“They discussed your work schedule.”
“They discussed when Hailey would be home.”
Cold spread through my body.
“Were they talking about…?”
“We don’t know yet.”
“But…”
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