Chapter 8 - THE WOMAN IN THE PHOTOGRAPHI couldn't go alone.
Miller refused to let me.
We traced the call.
The location was abandoned.
A warehouse near the old train station.
By the time we arrived, no one was there.
But we found another photograph.
This one showed a woman holding a young girl.
The girl's face was hidden.
The woman was smiling.
On the back were three words:
SHE RAISED EMMA.
I stared at the woman.
I recognized her.
My mother's younger sister.
Evelyn.
My aunt had disappeared from our family shortly after Daniel's death.
I'd assumed she'd moved overseas.
But she had been living in the same city.
Miller looked at me.
“Who is she?”
“My aunt.”
“Did she know about Emma?”
“I don't know.”
We found her address.
A small house on Willow Street.
Empty.
The door was unlocked.
Inside, children's drawings covered the walls.
Crayons.
Sunshine.
Flowers.
One drawing showed a family.
A little girl.
A man.
A woman.
Underneath, in childish handwriting:
MY FAMILY.
My heart broke.
I found another picture.
The girl had drawn herself beside a man.
The man's face was blacked out.
Beside him was a woman.
The woman was me.
But I had never met this child.
At the bottom was a name.
EMMA.
I sat on the floor.
My hands shaking.
“She was here.”
Miller nodded.
A bedroom door creaked open.
I looked up.
There was a small suitcase.
Inside:
children's clothes.
A stuffed rabbit.
A photograph of Daniel.
And an envelope addressed to me.
I opened it.
Inside was a letter.
Sarah,
I wanted to tell you the truth.
Emma was born alive.
Daniel gave her to me because he believed everyone around him was compromised.
He told me to disappear with her if anything happened.
I did.
But someone found us.
My breathing stopped.
The letter continued.
Emma was taken from me six months later.
I spent years trying to find her.
I failed.
At the bottom was one final sentence:
The man who has her now is not Victor Hale.
I looked at Miller.
“Then who?”
He read the letter.
His jaw tightened.
“There’s another page.”
I turned it over.
Your daughter is being raised by someone who sees you every week.
I froze.
Someone who sees me every week.
My mind raced through everyone.
My neighbor.
My doctor.
My lawyer.
My boss.
Then one face appeared in my mind.
David.
He had always been there.
After Daniel died.
When Caleb was born.
When I struggled.
When I needed help.
But why?
The front door slammed.
Miller ran outside.
A black SUV sped away.
He chased it.
Inside the house, something moved upstairs.
I heard a child crying.
I ran toward the sound.
A little girl stepped out from behind the curtain.
She was holding the stuffed rabbit from the suitcase.
She looked at me.
Her eyes were Daniel's.
She whispered:
“Mommy?”
My heart shattered.
I dropped to my knees.
“Emma?”
She nodded.
Then looked behind me.
Her face suddenly filled with fear.
“He said you weren't allowed to find me.”
“Who?”
She pointed toward the hallway.
Before I could turn, the lights went out.
A hand covered my mouth.
May you like
And a voice whispered into my ear:
“You should have left the dead buried.”
