Chapter 7 - THE HOUSE WHERE DANIEL DIEDDaniel's crash site had been demolished years ago.
But the old property remained.
A small farmhouse outside the city.
No one had lived there since the accident.
I arrived with Miller and two officers.
The place looked abandoned.
Broken windows.
Overgrown grass.
A rusted swing moving in the wind.
I stepped inside.
Everything smelled like dust.
Miller held up a hand.
“Stay behind me.”
We entered the kitchen.
Nothing.
Then I noticed the wall.
There was a dark stain near the floor.
Burn marks.
I crouched down.
“What happened here?”
Miller examined it.
“Explosion residue.”
My heart raced.
“This wasn't a car crash.”
“No.”
He looked around.
“It may have started here.”
I found a loose floorboard.
Underneath was a metal box.
Inside was a flash drive.
And a photograph.
Daniel.
Holding a baby.
I dropped the photo.
The baby was Emma.
I knew it instantly.
She had Daniel's eyes.
I pressed the photograph against my chest.
A sound came from upstairs.
Footsteps.
Miller drew his weapon.
“Police! Show yourself!”
Silence.
Then a woman's voice.
“Sarah.”
I froze.
Amber stepped into the doorway.
“You followed me?”
“I followed the truth.”
She walked down the stairs.
“I knew you would come.”
“You knew about this place.”
“Yes.”
“Why didn't you tell me?”
“Because Daniel made me promise.”
“Promise what?”
“That I would protect you.”
I laughed bitterly.
“You drugged my son.”
Amber's eyes filled with tears.
“I was trying to keep you alive.”
“You almost killed him.”
“I know.”
“Then explain.”
She finally did.
Daniel had discovered Victor's operation.
But Victor wasn't working alone.
There were people in hospitals.
Police.
Banks.
Government offices.
They had been moving money through fake identities for years.
Daniel gathered evidence.
He planned to expose them.
That's when Victor came after him.
“The night Daniel died,” Amber said, “he came here.”
“He was hiding.”
“He called me.”
“And?”
“He said he was going to fake his death.”
I stared at her.
“What?”
“Daniel wanted Victor to believe he was dead.”
My mind exploded with possibilities.
“Then the crash…”
“Was staged.”
“Daniel survived?”
Amber nodded.
My heart stopped.
“Where is he?”
She looked away.
“He disappeared.”
“What do you mean disappeared?”
“Victor found him.”
I whispered:
“Is he dead?”
Amber didn't answer.
Then Miller found something beneath the floor.
A hidden compartment.
Inside was an old cassette recorder.
He pressed PLAY.
Static.
Then Daniel's voice.
“Sarah, if you're hearing this, I failed.”
My eyes filled with tears.
“Victor knows about Emma.”
I covered my mouth.
“She's alive.”
The recording continued.
“I had to give her away to keep her safe.”
I began crying.
“She is with someone you trust.”
The tape clicked.
Daniel whispered:
“Don't trust the person who claims to love you.”
Then the recording ended.
I stared at Miller.
“Someone I trust.”
Miller looked at Amber.
Amber looked at David.
Then my phone rang again.
The caller said only one sentence:
“You still haven't figured out who your daughter is.”
And then came a second voice in the background.
A little girl's voice.
“Mom?”
I couldn't move.
It was impossible.
She sounded about four years old.
But the caller knew exactly what to say.
“Come alone.”
The line died.
I looked at the photograph of Emma.
And suddenly remembered one thing.
The lullaby Daniel used to sing to our baby.
Someone on the recording had whispered it too.
May you like
Which meant whoever had called me…
had heard Daniel sing it.
