Part 2: My husband and our three sons d!ed during a storm on their guys’ trip — five years later, my youngest daughter came to me and said, “Mom, I know what really happened that day. The police officer lied to you.”

For several seconds, I couldn’t bring myself to answer.

Then I did.

“Rachel?”

His voice sounded worried.

“Where are you?”

I looked toward Owen, sleeping beneath a blanket on the couch.

“Somewhere safe.”

A pause.

“Is Owen with you?”

My stomach tightened.

“Yes.”

Michael exhaled.

“Thank God.”

I closed my eyes.

“Michael, why was he afraid of you?”

Silence.

Then he said, “He’s been through a terrible ordeal.”

“That wasn’t my question.”

His voice changed.

“Rachel, you need to be careful. Aaron is dangerous.”

I stared at the wall.

“And you aren’t?”

A long silence followed.

Then Michael whispered:

“What did Owen tell you?”

My hands began trembling.

“Enough.”

He was silent.

Then he said something that chilled me.

“Rachel, Ben wouldn’t want you digging into this.”

I stopped breathing.

“What?”

His voice softened.

“He tried to protect you.”

I gripped the phone.

“Where is my husband?”

Michael didn’t answer.