Chapter 6 - Fourteen Months of SilenceThe blood on my cuff belonged to Isabelle.
The laboratory confirmed it.
My wife's DNA.
Fourteen months after her death.
I couldn't understand it.
Then Grace showed me something she had kept hidden.
A photograph from the day Isabelle was killed.
It showed me standing behind the preschool.
Holding something.
A bloodstained knife.
My face was turned away from the camera.
I remembered nothing.
Not because I had forgotten.
Because someone had made me forget.
Grace told me Isabelle had suspected I was being drugged.
Someone had been altering my medication.
Someone had been manipulating my memory.
The night Isabelle died, I had driven to the preschool.
I had found her.
Then someone attacked me.
The last thing I remembered was waking in a hospital.
The police said I had fainted from shock.
Grace believed otherwise.
“Someone wanted you to think you were innocent,” she said.
“Why?”
“So you would keep searching.”
“For what?”
“For the wrong man.”
I stared at her.
“What happened to Nora?”
“She'll be alive.”
“You don't know that.”
“I do.”
“How?”
Grace's face turned pale.
“Because your daughter was part of the plan.”
I didn't understand.
Then Sophie appeared in the doorway.
She held an old cassette recorder.
“Daddy.”
I turned.
She handed it to me.
“Mommy said to play this when we talked again.”
My hands shook as I pressed play.
Isabelle's voice filled the room.
“My girls.”
A pause.
“If you're listening, you're finally speaking.”
I closed my eyes.
“I need you to understand something.”
Another pause.
“Your father didn't kill me.”
My eyes opened.
“He thinks he did.”
I stared at Grace.
Isabelle continued.
“He was standing there when I was shot.”
My lungs stopped.
“He saw the shooter.”
“Who?” I whispered.
But the recording continued.
“The man who shot me is someone your father trusts.”
The tape crackled.
Then Isabelle said one name.
A name I had not heard in seven years.
“Elias.”
Grace's face changed.
“Who is Elias?”
I knew.
Elias Monroe.
My father's former attorney.
A man who disappeared after Daniel's death.
A man everyone believed was dead.
The same man who had arranged my business expansion.
The same man who had introduced me to the security company that hired Marcus.
The same man who had once called Isabelle “family.”
My phone rang.
This time, the caller ID appeared.
PRIVATE.
I answered.
Elias spoke.
“You finally remember me.”
“Where is Nora?”
“Safe.”
“Put her on.”
A child's voice appeared.
“Daddy?”
“Nora!”
“I miss you.”
“Where are you?”
Silence.
Then Elias said:
“Your wife made one mistake.”
“What?”
“She trusted you.”
My blood boiled.
“I'll find you.”
“You already did.”
The call ended.
The front door opened downstairs.
I looked at Grace.
“What?”
She shook her head.
“I locked it.”
We ran downstairs.
The front door stood wide open.
Someone had left a package inside.
A small wooden box.
Inside was Nora's pink hair ribbon.
And a photograph.
The photograph showed Nora standing beside a man.
Elias.
But there was something else.
In the background was Isabelle.
Alive.
And beside her was Daniel.
Alive.
May you like
The photograph was dated fourteen months ago.
Three days after the world said both were dead.
