Chapter 2 - Michael did not sleep that night.He sat at the kitchen table with every light in the house turned on.
The photograph lay in front of him.
So did the folder Ashley had left behind.
Emma was asleep upstairs.
Or at least Michael hoped she was.
Every few minutes he glanced toward the staircase.
He was afraid to close his eyes.
Afraid Ashley would return.
Afraid someone else would.
At 2:17 a.m., Michael finally picked up the photograph again.
Sarah stood beneath the restaurant sign, smiling faintly.
The woman beside her was younger.
Dark hair.
Gray coat.
Serious eyes.
Michael had never seen her.
He turned the photograph over.
If I die, find her.
Nothing else.
He searched Sarah's old phone.
The device had been sitting in a box in the basement since the funeral.
He had kept almost everything after Sarah died.
Her jewelry.
Her books.
Her winter coat.
Her phone.
He had never been able to turn the phone on.
Now he tried.
Nothing.
Battery dead.
He connected it to a charger.
While he waited, he opened his laptop.
The folder Ashley had assembled was still bothering him.
He scanned every document.
The school counselor's signature.
The psychologist's name.
The residential facility.
The dates.
Something felt wrong.
Then he noticed the letterhead.
The supposed psychologist worked at a clinic in Connecticut.
Michael searched the clinic.
It existed.
But the doctor named on the letter had retired eleven years ago.
Michael sat back.
His heart began beating faster.
He looked at another document.
A counselor had supposedly met Emma in April.
But April was during the period when Michael had taken Emma to Disney World.
There was even a photograph from that trip.
The counselor could not have met her.
The documents were fake.
But somebody had gone to enormous effort to make them look real.
At 3:05 a.m., the old phone finally turned on.
Michael stared at the screen.
Hundreds of notifications appeared.
Most were years old.
He opened the messages first.
There were dozens from Sarah.
Some to Michael.
Some to unknown numbers.
Then he found one contact he didn't recognize.
D. Mercer
The last message from Sarah had been sent at 11:42 p.m., the night before her death.
I know what you've been doing.
Daniel Mercer.
Michael remembered the name.
Daniel was the lawyer who had handled part of the estate after Sarah died.
The same Daniel Ashley had mentioned.
Michael searched the old messages.
Sarah had sent him a warning three days before her death.
Stop contacting my husband.
Another message.
I won't let you near Emma.
Then:
You don't understand what I found.
Michael stared at the screen.
What had Sarah found?
He searched Daniel's number.
It was still active.
Michael did not call.
Instead, he sent a message.
Who is Ashley?
The reply came less than a minute later.
Who gave you my number?
Michael's fingers tightened.
He typed:
Sarah.
Three dots appeared.
Then disappeared.
Then appeared again.
Finally:
We need to talk. Not by phone.
Michael looked toward the windows.
Darkness pressed against the glass.
He typed:
Where?
The answer came.
Tomorrow. 10 a.m. St. Vincent Cemetery. Sarah's grave. Come alone.
Michael stared at it.
A cemetery.
His pulse climbed.
Nobody arranged meetings at a grave unless they had something they didn't want overheard.
At 8 a.m., Michael took Emma to his sister's house.
He told her Emma had gotten sick.
He did not tell her about Ashley.
He did not tell her about the documents.
Most importantly, he did not tell her about the photograph.
Emma kissed his cheek before he left.
“Daddy?”
“Yeah?”
“Are you going to find out what happened?”
Michael froze.
“What do you mean?”
Emma looked down.
“To Mommy.”
Michael crouched.
“What makes you ask that?”
Emma hesitated.
Then she whispered:
“Ashley used to say Mommy was weak.”
Michael's face hardened.
“What else did she say?”
“She said Mommy knew she was sick.”
“Did Ashley ever say anything about the night Mommy died?”
Emma looked frightened.
“She said there was a woman.”
Michael's breath caught.
“What woman?”
“She said Mommy met her before she died.”
Michael stared at his daughter.
“The woman in the picture?”
Emma nodded.
“I don't know her name.”
At 9:55 a.m., Michael arrived at the cemetery.
Daniel Mercer was standing beside Sarah's grave.
He was older than Michael remembered.
Gray hair.
Dark suit.
No smile.
Michael walked toward him.
“You knew my wife was afraid.”
Daniel looked at him.
“She was afraid of what she discovered.”
“What did she discover?”
Daniel glanced around.
“Were you followed?”
“No.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
Daniel exhaled.
“Then we don't have much time.”
Michael pulled out the photograph.
“Who is she?”
Daniel stared at it.
His face changed.
“You found that.”
“Where?”
“In my house.”
Daniel looked toward Sarah's grave.
“She told me she kept a spare set of documents in a place no one would search.”
“The closet?”
Daniel's eyes widened.
“You found the closet.”
Michael stepped closer.
“Tell me everything.”
Daniel shook his head.
“Not here.”
“Then where?”
Daniel handed him a small envelope.
“Read this only when you're alone.”
Michael grabbed his wrist.
“Who is the woman?”
Daniel looked directly into his eyes.
“Her name is Rebecca Cole.”
Michael waited.
“And she was with Sarah the night your wife died.”
Michael's chest tightened.
“You said Sarah discovered something.”
“She discovered Ashley wasn't who she claimed to be.”
Michael frowned.
“What does that mean?”
Daniel looked around again.
“She wasn't the first woman.”
Michael felt the ground shift beneath him.
“There was another family before yours.”
Daniel walked away.
Michael opened his mouth to stop him.
Daniel turned once.
“One more thing.”
“What?”
“Do not let Ashley know you found the second key.”
Michael's eyes dropped.
The brass key was in his pocket.
He had not shown it to Daniel.
He stared after him.
“How did you know about the key?”
Daniel didn't answer.
He simply disappeared between the graves.
Michael stood alone beside Sarah.
His phone vibrated.
Unknown number.
One text.
You shouldn't have gone to the cemetery.
Another arrived.
Now she knows you're looking.
Michael looked up sharply.
Someone was watching.
Across the street, a gray sedan was parked beneath a tree.
The engine was running.
Then the car drove away.
Michael looked down at Sarah's grave.
The envelope in his hand suddenly felt very heavy.
He whispered:
“Who the hell were you fighting, Sarah?”
Behind him, his phone vibrated again.
This time the message contained only one sentence.
Ask Rebecca why she wasn't there when Sarah needed her.
Michael stared at the screen.
The past was no longer buried.
May you like
It was coming back.
And it had already noticed him.
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