Chapter 14 - Emma CarterEmma lived in a small blue house surrounded by hibiscus bushes.
She opened the door wearing jeans and a gray sweater.
She looked at me.
Nothing happened.
No recognition.
Of course not.
Why would she recognize the woman who had been erased from her life?
“Can I help you?”
I almost said her name.
Instead I whispered:
“I'm Patricia.”
She smiled politely.
“Nice to meet you.”
I nearly cried.
Marcus stood behind me.
Emma looked at him.
“You two are from the beach house.”
“Yes,” Marcus said.
She stepped aside.
“Come in.”
Her living room was simple.
Family photographs lined the walls.
I looked at them.
Emma had been loved.
That made me feel relieved.
And broken.
She noticed me staring.
“That's my adoptive family.”
“Were they good to you?”
She smiled.
“They were wonderful.”
Then she looked at me.
“Why are you here?”
I didn't answer.
Marcus did.
“We need to ask about Harold Wells.”
Emma froze.
“I don't know anyone named Harold.”
The lie was immediate.
I knew it.
She knew it.
Marcus knew it.
Rebecca whispered from behind us.
“She does.”
Emma turned.
Her face went white.
“What did you call me?”
Rebecca stepped inside.
“Emma.”
Emma backed away.
“You're supposed to be dead.”
“I was never dead.”
Emma's hands began shaking.
“Who are you?”
Rebecca stared at her.
“Your aunt.”
Emma looked at me.
Then something in her expression changed.
She walked to a cabinet.
Opened a drawer.
Pulled out a small envelope.
She didn't speak.
She handed it to me.
Inside was a photograph.
Harold stood on one side.
A young woman stood beside him.
The woman looked exactly like Emma.
The photograph was taken in a hospital.
On the back was handwriting.
My daughter, one day you will know why I gave you away.
I couldn't breathe.
Emma watched my face.
“He said I wasn't supposed to open it until I was thirty.”
“How old are you?”
“Thirty.”
My knees nearly gave out.
She looked at me.
“Who are you?”
I could have lied.
Instead I said:
“I'm your mother.”
The room went silent.
Emma stared at me.
Then laughed.
“No.”
“I know this is impossible.”
“My mother died.”
“She didn't.”
“She raised me.”
“I know.”
“She was there for every birthday.”
“I know.”
“You're a stranger.”
Tears filled my eyes.
“I know.”
She looked at the photograph.
Then at me.
Something flickered.
She stepped closer.
“Why does Harold call you Pat?”
My heart broke.
“Because that's what he called me.”
Emma stared.
Then her face crumpled.
“Why didn't you come?”
“I didn't know.”
“Why didn't you look?”
“I thought you were dead.”
She cried.
I cried.
For several seconds, nobody moved.
Then the front window shattered.
Emma screamed.
Nathan dropped to the floor.
A bullet struck the wall.
Richard's men had found us.
Emma looked at me.
“What is happening?”
I grabbed her hand.
“We have to go.”
“Where?”
“Anywhere but here.”
She looked at the photograph.
Then whispered:
“I know where the ledger is.”
I froze.
“Where?”
She pointed toward the back room.
“In Harold's old workshop.”
“What workshop?”
She looked at me.
“The one beneath the beach house.”
Then the lights went out.
May you like
And someone outside shouted:
“Take the girl alive.”
