Chapter 2 - Émilie ran.She had no plan.
No idea who the man was.
Only the certainty that he had seen the notebook.
The dog was already halfway down the block, charging after him.
“Stop!”
The stranger didn't.
He cut between two parked cars, crossed against traffic, and disappeared into a narrow alley.
The dog followed.
Émilie reached the alley seconds later.
Empty.
Wet bricks.
Overflowing bins.
A flickering security lamp.
Nothing else.
The dog sniffed the ground, circled once, then sat.
Its ears pointed toward a rusted metal staircase leading to the back of an abandoned building.
Émilie followed its gaze.
A small paper envelope was caught beneath the bottom step.
She picked it up.
No name.
No address.
Just three words.
FOR ÉMILIE ONLY.
Her hands shook as she opened it.
Inside was a photograph.
An old photograph.
A younger version of the man from the street stood beside a woman.
Both were smiling.
Between them was a little girl.
Émilie stared.
She knew that girl.
She knew her face.
Because the girl was her.
“No.”
The photograph slipped from her fingers.
She picked it up again.
The image showed Émilie at perhaps eight years old, standing beside her mother.
But the man beside them was someone she had never seen in her family photographs.
Yet there was something about him.
The eyes.
The scar.
The expression.
It was the same man lying unidentified in the hospital.
Her phone rang.
Unknown number.
Émilie answered.
“Hello?”
A man's voice replied.
“You found the notebook.”
She stopped breathing.
“Who are you?”
“You should not have opened it.”
“Who are you?”
“Listen carefully.”
The voice sounded old.
Tired.
Controlled.
“The man in the hospital isn't the person you think he is.”
“Then who is he?”
“He's the reason your mother disappeared.”
Émilie's blood ran cold.
“My mother died.”
“No.”
The call ended.
She stood motionless.
The dog barked once.
Then looked toward the end of the alley.
A figure stood there.
This one was holding an umbrella.
Not moving.
Watching.
Émilie took one step backward.
The figure turned and walked away.
She chased him.
This time the dog stayed behind.
The stranger disappeared through a gate.
Émilie reached it moments later.
Locked.
But a small silver key lay on the pavement.
She picked it up.
The key had a number engraved into it.
317.
She returned to the hospital.
The nurse from earlier had agreed to meet her outside the emergency department.
Her name was Claire.
She was in her forties, with dark circles beneath her eyes.
“You shouldn't be here,” Claire whispered.
“I need to see him.”
Claire looked around.
“Do you know what happens when unidentified patients wake up and immediately begin saying one person's name?”
“They call the person.”
“Usually.”
Claire swallowed.
“Not this time.”
“Why?”
“Because someone called before you did.”
Émilie's stomach dropped.
“Who?”
“A man asking whether the patient was still alive.”
“What did he say his name was?”
“He didn't.”
Claire handed her a visitor badge.
“Room 317.”
Émilie stared at it.
The number matched the key.
“You said he wasn't identified.”
“He isn't.”
“Then why does someone know which room he's in?”
Claire's expression tightened.
“That is what scares me.”
Émilie walked toward the elevator.
“Wait,” Claire said.
Émilie turned.
“There is something else.”
“What?”
“The old man arrived carrying something.”
“A notebook?”
“No.”
Claire leaned closer.
“A key.”
Émilie slowly opened her fist.
The silver key rested in her palm.
Claire went pale.
“Where did you get that?”
“Outside.”
Claire stared at it.
“That key belongs to him.”
“What's it for?”
Claire shook her head.
“I don't know.”
Then the hospital lights flickered.
The elevator doors opened.
Inside stood a man in a black suit.
He looked directly at Émilie.
Then at the key.
His face changed.
He stepped out.
Émilie stepped back.
“Miss Émilie?”
She froze.
“Yes?”
The man smiled.
“I think we need to have a conversation.”
The dog suddenly appeared at the end of the corridor.
It barked violently.
The man looked at it.
His smile disappeared.
Then, without another word, he turned and walked away.
Émilie watched him disappear around the corner.
Claire whispered:
“You know what that means, don't you?”
“What?”
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“He wasn't surprised to see you.”
“He was waiting for you.”
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