Chapter 4

The whispers started immediately.

"That' s Eva Benton, the journalist."

"She doesn' t look like a crazy woman who would kill her own kid. She' s beautiful."

The words were meant to be quiet, but in the silent diner, they were like shouts. Each one was a fresh cut on my already wounded soul.

I thought of the past three years. The isolation. The taunts from the other inmates, who saw me as the lowest of the low-a mother who had killed her own child. The demeaning labor, scrubbing floors until my hands bled. The beatings in the dark, the constant fear. The scars that littered my body, a permanent map of my time in hell. Even now, the sound of a heavy door slamming shut made me jump.

Cheri stood up, her eyes blazing. "You bitch."

She picked up her glass of water and threw it squarely in Karyn' s face.

Karyn shrieked. The little boy started to cry.

And just like a scene from a poorly written play, the diner door opened again.

David walked in.

Karyn' s face crumpled. She scooped up her son, her eyes red-rimmed and glistening with fake tears.

"David!" she wailed. "Eva' s friend... she tried to hurt our son! Eva told her to do it!"

The little boy, coached and primed, pointed a chubby finger at me. "Mean lady! You bullied my mommy!"

David' s face turned to thunder. He stormed over, placing himself between me and his new family, a protective shield.

"What the hell is wrong with you, Eva?" he hissed, his voice a low, furious growl. "He' s just a child! Can' t you even tolerate a child?"

The irony was so thick, I could have choked on it. My ears filled with a rushing sound, the blood pounding in my head.

I remembered Leo' s first birthday party. David had held him up for a toast, his eyes shining with pride. "Thank you, Eva," he' d said to me in front of all our friends. "Thank you for giving me this perfect son. For giving me this perfect life."

A life he had systematically, ruthlessly destroyed.

As if on cue, a group of reporters entered the diner. My old colleagues. People I had mentored, people who had once respected me.

They saw the scene: the powerful Mayor Blair, his weeping fiancée, their frightened child, and me-the crazed ex-wife, the convicted killer, causing a scene.

"Is that Eva Benton?"

"God, she' s really let herself go."

"I can' t believe she used to be the best investigative reporter in the city."

"She killed her own son. What do you expect?"

David' s face was a mask of cold fury and public embarrassment.

"Go home, Eva," he said, his voice dangerously low. "Don' t make a fool of yourself in public."

Don' t embarrass him. That' s what he meant.

Karyn, seizing the opportunity, composed herself and began to work the room, playing the part of the gracious, wronged victim, accepting condolences from the reporters.

I pulled Cheri back as she started to protest again. "Let it go," I whispered.

I walked out of the diner, my face a blank mask. I didn' t look back. I felt David' s eyes on me for a moment. I saw him notice the faint, discolored scar peeking out from the collar of my shirt, a souvenir from a prison fight.

He saw it. And then he turned away.

I put Cheri in a cab and sent her home. Then I went to a small convenience store. I bought incense, paper money for burning, and a small toy spaceship-the kind Leo had always wanted.

I took another cab to the cemetery.

I was not prepared for what I saw.

The pristine grave was gone. The grass was overgrown with weeds. The polished angel statue was gone.

And across the smooth marble of Leo' s headstone, scrawled in thick, red paint, were the words:

BORN TO A KILLER MOM. DESERVED TO DIE.

The letters burned into my eyes. I felt a physical pain, as if the words were carving themselves directly onto my heart.

"No..." I choked out.

I fell to my knees, clawing at the painted letters, trying to wipe them away. My fingernails scraped against the stone, breaking and bleeding, but the paint wouldn' t budge. My blood mixed with the red letters, making them even more vivid, more grotesque.

I scrubbed until I had no strength left, then collapsed against the headstone. I traced the faded photo of Leo' s smiling face, my body convulsing with sobs I could no longer contain. A heart-wrenching wail tore from my lips, a sound of an animal caught in a trap.

The sky, as if on cue, opened up. A cold, hard rain began to fall, plastering my thin clothes to my skin, but I didn't feel it. I just cried, my tears mixing with the rain, until I was completely spent.

Hours later, the rain stopped. I slowly got to my feet. I spent the rest of the day on my hands and knees, pulling every weed. I went to a stonemason and ordered a new headstone, paying with the last of my emergency cash.

When the new stone was in place, I carefully set the toy spaceship at its base.

I looked at Leo' s picture, my hand resting on the cool, clean marble.

"Leo, Mommy promises," I whispered, my voice raw. "Whoever did this to you... to us... they will pay. I swear it."

It was dawn when I finally got back to the house. I was soaked, exhausted, and running on pure adrenaline.

David was waiting for me in the living room. He hadn' t changed. His hair was slightly disheveled, and there were dark circles under his eyes.

"Where the hell have you been?" he demanded, his voice laced with anger and something else I couldn' t name. Worry?

I walked past him without a word, heading for the stairs.

"Today," I said, my voice flat and dead, pausing with my hand on the newel post. "Today is the anniversary of Leo' s death. Did you forget?"

His face went pale.

The world went dark at the edges. My legs gave out, and I fell into nothingness.