Chapter 2 - The Envelope in the Soup BagRebecca Mercer had left one secret behind.
I stared at the envelope.
Lucy stared at me.
Neither of us spoke.
The diner had gone strangely quiet.
People were watching.
The waitress had frozen behind the counter.
Outside, the snow kept falling as if nothing had happened.
I picked up the envelope.
“Did your mother give you this?”
Lucy shook her head.
“It was inside.”
“Inside what?”
“The bag.”
My fingers went cold.
The envelope wasn't sealed.
Inside was a photograph.
Rebecca.
My wife.
Six years younger.
Standing outside the abandoned textile mill on Mill Road.
She was smiling.
Beside her stood a woman I'd never seen before.
And holding the woman's hand was a little girl.
Lucy.
I looked at the photograph again.
Then at Lucy.
“How old are you?”
“Nine.”
My mind raced.
Rebecca had died six years ago.
That would make Lucy three in the year my wife died.
The photograph was dated two weeks before Rebecca's accident.
On the back, Rebecca had written:
Daniel, if this reaches you, I was right to be afraid. Don't trust the people closest to you.
My throat tightened.
“Who is this woman?”
Lucy looked at the photograph.
“That's my mom.”
“What's her name?”
“Hannah.”
“Hannah Parker?”
Lucy nodded.
“Where is she?”
“At home.”
“Is she sick?”
Another nod.
“Very.”
“What kind of sick?”
Lucy didn't know.
“Mom says it's just exhaustion.”
That wasn't enough.
I took out my phone.
“I'll drive you home.”
She immediately backed away.
“No.”
“Lucy.”
“You're a stranger.”
“You just gave me a reason to worry.”
“My mom said strangers lie.”
“Your mother was right.”
I stood.
“But sometimes they lie to protect someone.”
Lucy looked at the photograph.
“Does that woman know my mom?”
I looked down at Rebecca's face.
“She did.”
That wasn't entirely true.
She had known more than I did.
Far more.
The drive to Mill Road took twelve minutes.
Lucy sat in the back seat, holding the soup container against her chest.
She kept checking the side mirrors.
I kept watching the road.
The old church appeared first.
Then a line of narrow houses.
Half the streetlights were dead.
Several windows were covered with cardboard.
Lucy pointed.
“There.”
The house looked abandoned.
One upstairs window glowed faintly.
I stopped.
Lucy opened the door.
“Wait.”
She turned.
“Does your mother know Rebecca Mercer?”
“I don't know.”
I held out the envelope.
“You do know something.”
Lucy stared at me.
Then whispered:
“She said Rebecca saved us.”
My heart stopped.
“Saved you from what?”
“She never told me.”
Lucy ran toward the house.
I followed.
The front door wasn't locked.
“Hannah?”
No answer.
“Mom?”
Lucy ran upstairs.
I followed two steps behind.
The bedroom door was open.
A woman lay on the bed.
Pale.
Thin.
Barely conscious.
Her eyes opened.
She looked at me.
And every trace of color disappeared from her face.
“No,” she whispered.
“Ms. Parker?”
“You need to leave.”
Lucy rushed to the bed.
“Mom!”
Hannah looked at her daughter.
Then at me.
“Did you bring him here?”
“I didn't.”
Hannah's breathing quickened.
“Daniel Mercer.”
I stopped.
“How do you know me?”
Her eyes filled with tears.
“I know your wife.”
“Rebecca?”
She nodded.
Then she pushed herself upright with visible effort.
“Rebecca told me one thing before she died.”
“What?”
Hannah reached beneath her pillow.
She pulled out a second envelope.
“This belongs to you.”
I took it.
My name was written on the front.
The handwriting was Rebecca's.
Exactly.
Same slant.
Same pressure.
Same tiny curve at the end of the “r.”
I stared at it.
“She wrote this before she died?”
Hannah shook her head.
“She wrote it the night she died.”
I looked at her.
“That’s impossible.”
“She called me three hours before the crash.”
My pulse hammered.
“What did she say?”
Hannah swallowed.
“She said if anything happened to her, I was to keep Lucy hidden.”
“Why?”
“Because your family would come looking.”
I felt something inside me crack.
“My family?”
Hannah nodded.
“Your father was already searching.”
“My father has been dead for ten years.”
Hannah stared at me.
“Your father wasn't searching anymore.”
She pointed toward the hallway.
“Your brother was.”
I froze.
I had one brother.
Michael Mercer.
My younger brother.
The man I'd trusted with the family company after Rebecca died.
The man who had stood beside me at her funeral.
The man who had told me over and over that I needed to move on.
The man who, according to Hannah, had been searching for Lucy.
I opened Rebecca's envelope.
There was only one sentence inside.
Daniel, the truth about Lucy is buried beneath the house you grew up in.
Then I heard a car door slam outside.
Hannah's eyes widened.
“They're here.”
Lucy moved closer to her mother.
I went downstairs.
Through the curtain, I saw three men step out of a black SUV.
At the center was my brother.
Michael Mercer.
He looked up at the house.
May you like
Then straight at the window where I stood.
And smiled.
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