I never get a call from my 5-year-old granddaughter — so when she whispered that her mom was “pretending she’s not scared,” I froze. That night I raced through red lights to their house, panic pounding in my chest.
Her soft, strange voice — not her usual bubbly self — said:
“Hi Grandma … can you take me to sleep at your house tonight?”
I asked where her mom was. Lila said she was hiding in the bathroom and “pretending.” Then the call dropped.
I tried calling again. No answer. I texted. Nothing. My heart raced. I grabbed my keys and drove. I sped through intersections, barely registering the lights. I told myself, “Call again,” but silence. “I’m coming over,” I texted.
My mind raced — had something happened to Emma? Was Lila hiding from someone? I knew something was very wrong. The full story continues next page…