Chapter 7: The Girl in the Photograph
My father stared at the photograph for nearly a minute.
Then he shook his head.
"No. That isn't possible.""
I enlarged the image.
The young woman sat beside a window, wearing a pale blue sweater. Her dark curls fell across her shoulders. A yellow ribbon circled her wrist.
The same ribbon from the childhood photograph Vanessa had shown me.
"Who is she?"" I asked.
My father lowered himself onto a nearby bench.
"Her name was Emily.""
"Was?""
He rubbed his forehead.
"Eleven years ago, Emily disappeared from the hospital. Your mother told me she had died during surgery.""
"Did you see her body?""
"No.""
"Did you attend her funeral?""
He looked away.
"No.""
I felt anger rising in my chest.
"Then why did you believe she was dead?""
My father looked at me.
"Because I was a coward.""
The admission silenced me.
He explained that Emily had been admitted to a private hospital after her heart condition worsened. Eleanor had promised to arrange the best possible treatment.
But three days before the scheduled operation, the hospital informed James that Emily had suffered complications.
He arrived to find an empty room.
Eleanor told him the body had already been transferred.
She said the hospital had handled the burial privately.
James had been devastated.
He had signed the documents without questioning anything.
"Your mother showed me a death certificate," he said.
"She told me Emily's final wish was to be buried without a funeral.""
I looked at the photograph again.
"Then who is this?""
"I don't know.""
My phone vibrated.
Another message.
*Apartment 14B. Come alone. 8:00 p.m.*
No name.
I showed it to my father.
He immediately shook his head.
"It's a trap.""
"Maybe.""
"Marcus, we have enough evidence to go to the police.""
"Your wife controls people inside the police department.""
"Not everyone.""
"How do we know?""
He had no answer.
I looked at the photograph.
Whoever had sent it knew things that even my father didn't.
And if Emily was alive, I needed to find her.
We went to Vanessa's apartment first.
It was a small building downtown, above a bakery. The smell of fresh bread filled the stairwell.
Her apartment was on the fourth floor.
The door was unlocked.
Inside, everything looked ordinary.
A gray sofa. A small kitchen. Books arranged neatly on a shelf.
But the bedroom was different.
The mattress had been moved.
A floorboard near the wardrobe was loose.
I pulled it up.
Beneath it sat a blue metal box.
The key was taped to the underside of the bed.
Inside were documents, photographs, and a small voice recorder.
There was also a sealed envelope addressed to me.
I opened it.
Marcus,
If you're reading this, I probably wasn't able to explain everything myself.
I know you hate me. I won't ask you to forgive me.
But I need you to know that I never wanted you to become another victim of Eleanor.
The first time I saw you, I was supposed to report everything you did. Instead, I started caring about you.
I should have told you the truth long ago.
There is one person who can explain what happened to Emily.
Her name is Grace Miller.
Your biological mother.
Find her before Eleanor does.
And whatever happens, don't let Eleanor get her hands on the original will.
I searched the box.
The original will was there.
So was a second document.
It was a hospital discharge record.
Patient: Emily Carter.
Date of discharge: November 14, 2015.
The listed destination was a private residence.
The guardian's signature was Eleanor Carter.
But the receiving signature belonged to someone else.
Grace Miller.
I showed it to my father.
He looked stunned.
"Grace took Emily?""
"Apparently.""
"Why would Eleanor let her?""
"Maybe she didn't.""
I turned the document over.
A phone number was written on the back.
I dialed.
A woman answered after several rings.
"Hello?""
"Is this Grace Miller?""
Silence.
"Who's asking?""
"My name is Marcus Carter.""
I heard a sharp intake of breath.
Then the woman whispered:
"My son.""
My knees weakened.
"Where are you?""
"Who gave you this number?""
"Vanessa.""
Another pause.
Then Grace said something that made me look at my father.
"Is James with you?""
"Yes.""
"Put him on the phone.""
I handed it over.
My father held the phone with trembling fingers.
"Grace?""
Her voice broke.
"James, you promised me you'd keep him safe.""
He closed his eyes.
"I tried.""
"You let Eleanor raise him.""
"I thought she would protect him.""
"She destroyed everything.""
My father looked down.
"I know.""
Grace began crying.
Then she spoke again.
"Listen carefully. Eleanor knows where I am. She has been watching me for months.""
"Where are you?"" I asked.
"At the old railway station. Platform six.""
"Why there?""
"Because it's where I last saw Emily.""
The call disconnected.
I looked at the clock.
7:24 p.m.
The meeting at Apartment 14B was at eight.
The railway station was forty minutes away.
My father took the phone from me.
"We're not going anywhere without backup.""
I stared at the photograph.
The woman in it had been alive.
Someone had sent it deliberately.
Someone wanted me to find her.
I put the original will into my jacket.
"We're going to the station.""
My father grabbed my shoulder.
"Marcus, listen to me. If Grace is alive, Eleanor will do anything to silence her.""
"Then we get there before she does.""
We reached the old railway station at 8:11 p.m.
Platform six was almost deserted.
A woman stood beneath a broken clock.
She wore a brown coat and held a small suitcase.
Her hair was streaked with gray.
When she turned, I saw my own eyes looking back at me.
"Marcus?""
I couldn't speak.
She approached slowly.
Then she touched my cheek.
"You have your father's face.""
I swallowed.
"Are you my mother?""
Grace began crying.
"Yes.""
I wanted to hug her.
I wanted to ask why she had abandoned me.
I wanted to know why my entire life had been built around lies.
But before I could say anything, she looked over my shoulder.
Her face went white.
"James," she whispered.
My father turned.
A train was approaching.
And standing behind Grace, near the platform entrance, was Eleanor.
She was holding a photograph.
A photograph of Emily.
"Hello, Grace," she said.
May you like
Then she smiled at me.
"Shall we finally tell Marcus what really happened to his sister?""
