Three Times a Lady

Chapter 45

On the plane ride out to Chicago later that night in the Department of Justice’s thirty-million-dollar Gulfstream IV, Dana reflected again on the events her life, especially those of the past year. Once again, things had been rough on her – no debating that simple fact – but once again she’d made it through to the other side of the seemingly un-crossable chasm alive.

Above all else – no matter what anybody else said about her – Dana was a survivor.

And that was nothing to sneeze at.

Four hours later, she stepped inside the childhood home of Nicole Preston. In the master bedroom, she found a diary sitting in the top drawer of a nightstand beside the bed. Settling down onto the neatly bed on top of the plaid comforter, Dana opened up the well-worn red-leather cover and began to read:



18 November 1982

I don’t know what to do about Timothy any more. He thinks he’s a girl and has started calling himself Nicole. I believe it’s the female version of his imaginary friend, Nicholas.

It all started when Timmy was seven years old. We were playing in the house one day when he slipped on the floor and banged his head against the bathroom sink. He was never the same after that. I’ve always blamed myself because I was chasing him at the time, playing a game of tag.

When Timmy was thirteen years old, I came home from work one day to find that he’d chopped off his own penis with a meat cleaver. I barely managed to get him to the hospital in time to save his life.

I know that my son hates me, and this makes me sad beyond words.

What happened to the cute little boy whose precious little face appeared in all those televisions commercials? I’ll never know.

One thing I do know, however:

I miss my son with every last inch of my soul, and I want him back desperately.