Chapter 4 - The Woman in the Back SeatThe car stopped so violently that gravel sprayed across the driveway.
A black SUV.
No license plate.
The rear door opened.
A woman stepped out.
She wore a gray coat despite the summer heat.
She looked at Clara.
Then at me.
Then at Ariel.
Her expression changed.
“Oh God.”
My father moved in front of me.
“Who are you?”
She didn't answer.
Instead, she whispered:
“Get the child inside.”
Glen grabbed Ariel.
I immediately pulled my daughter back.
“No.”
The woman looked at me.
“You don't have time.”
“What do you know about my daughter?”
“Everything.”
Clara stared at the stranger.
“You came.”
“I said I would.”
“Who sent you?”
The woman looked toward the road.
“No one.”
That answer made no sense.
Then the SUV's trunk opened.
Inside was a metal case.
The woman pointed toward it.
“Take that.”
“What is it?” I asked.
“The reason Clara has spent fifteen years pretending to hate you.”
I looked at Clara.
She shut her eyes.
My father whispered her name.
“Clara.”
She didn't respond.
The woman continued.
“Your father wasn't supposed to survive.”
I stared at my father.
“What?”
“He was supposed to die fifteen years ago.”
The woman opened the case.
Inside were photographs.
Dozens.
My father.
Clara.
Glen.
Me.
Ariel.
My blood ran cold.
Some photographs showed our house.
Others showed my daughter sleeping.
One was taken only two nights earlier.
Inside Ariel's bedroom.
I nearly dropped the case.
“Who took these?”
The woman pointed at the wall.
“Someone living inside your house.”
I looked at Glen.
He stared at the photographs.
“That's impossible.”
The woman shook her head.
“Not anymore.”
Ariel suddenly screamed.
“There!”
She pointed toward the SUV.
Everyone turned.
She was pointing beneath the vehicle.
I crouched.
A tiny red light blinked under the chassis.
A camera.
The woman swore.
“Back!”
A sharp crack split the air.
The side mirror exploded.
Everyone ducked.
Glen pulled me toward the ground.
My father dragged Clara behind the patio wall.
Another shot struck the pool.
Water erupted.
Children screamed.
Panic swallowed the backyard.
The unknown woman grabbed my wrist.
“Run!”
We rushed toward the house.
Ariel was crying.
Glen carried her.
I followed.
Clara came behind us.
My father was last.
We slammed the door.
“Lock it!”
Glen turned the deadbolt.
I grabbed a chair and shoved it beneath the handle.
Silence.
No shots.
Only the muffled sound of people screaming outside.
Then the stranger turned to us.
“My name is Mara.”
She pulled a photograph from her pocket.
It showed a hospital room.
A newborn baby.
And beside the crib stood a younger version of my husband.
Except…
He was holding another infant.
Two babies.
I stared at the photograph.
“There were twins?”
Mara nodded.
“One survived.”
I looked at Ariel.
Then at Glen.
“Which one?”
Mara hesitated.
“That is the problem.”
Clara whispered:
“We don't know.”
My heart hammered.
“What do you mean you don't know?”
Mara looked directly at me.
“Because the hospital records were switched.”
Glen shook his head.
“No.”
Mara stepped closer.
“The night your daughter was born, two women delivered baby girls within eleven minutes of each other.”
My voice came out barely audible.
“And?”
“One baby disappeared.”
“And the other?”
Mara's eyes moved to Ariel.
“She became yours.”
Ariel suddenly pointed behind Mara.
“Mommy…”
Her voice trembled.
“There’s another one.”
We all turned.
At the end of the hallway stood a little girl.
Same age as Ariel.
Same height.
Same face.
Same pink birthday dress.
Identical.
Ariel stared at her.
The other girl stared back.
Then both girls spoke at exactly the same time.
“Daddy.”
May you like
Glen staggered backward.
And the front door slowly began to unlock from the outside.
