Chapter 4: The Sister I Never Knew Existed
For a long time, I couldn't take my eyes off the computer screen.
Sarah Carter.
Eleven years old.
Missing.
Last seen with Margaret Wilson.
I read the report again, hoping the letters would rearrange themselves into something less impossible.
They didn't.
I had spent twenty-one years believing I had one sister.
Now I was looking at a photograph of another little girl who apparently shared my last name, my parents, and my childhood.
I turned toward Elena.
“Did you know about Sarah?””
Elena shook her head.
“Margaret told me I had no siblings.””
Officer Reynolds pulled a chair closer.
“Mr. Carter, do you recognize this child?””
I studied the photograph.
The little girl had shoulder-length brown hair, a small nose, and a wide smile. She wore a red sweater with a white collar.
Something about her face felt familiar.
Then I noticed the necklace.
A little silver star.
My fingers went numb.
“I've seen that before.””
“Where?”” Reynolds asked.
I swallowed.
“My mother's bedroom.””
For years, Mom had kept a small wooden jewelry box on her dresser. I remembered the silver star because she'd sometimes take it out and hold it while staring at old photographs.
Whenever I asked about it, she'd say it belonged to someone she loved.
I'd assumed it was an old family heirloom.
Now I wasn't so sure.
Officer Reynolds enlarged the photograph.
“Does the name Sarah mean anything to you?””
I shook my head slowly.
“No. But that necklace does.””
Elena reached for my hand.
“Daniel, what if Margaret took both of us?””
The question hung in the room.
I looked back at the report.
The dates were strange.
Sarah had disappeared first.
Lily had disappeared eleven months later.
Both cases involved Margaret.
Both investigations had been quietly closed.
And both children had been declared missing under circumstances that didn't make sense.
“Why would our mother never tell me about Sarah?”” I asked.
Officer Reynolds folded his hands.
“That's something we need to investigate. There may be information in the original case files that hasn't been digitized.””
He made another phone call.
This time, he spoke to someone at the county records office.
While he waited, Elena stared at Sarah's photograph.
“Her eyes look like yours,” she whispered.
I looked again.
They did.
The same dark brown eyes.
The same slight crease above the left eyebrow.
I felt sick.
Officer Reynolds eventually hung up.
“The original detective retired fifteen years ago. Unfortunately, the records are incomplete.””
“Can we contact him?”” I asked.
“We can try.””
“Then do it.””
Reynolds nodded.
He seemed to understand that I wasn't leaving without answers.
An hour later, he arranged for us to visit the old family address listed in both reports.
The house had belonged to our mother.
She had lived there until she died.
I'd inherited it, but I hadn't been able to bring myself to move back in. It sat empty, its windows covered, the garden slowly disappearing beneath weeds.
I still paid the property taxes.
I still kept the electricity connected.
Some part of me believed that if Lily ever came home, she would know where to find us.
Now I had another reason to open the front door.
Elena rode with me in a police vehicle.
When we arrived, she stood on the sidewalk staring at the house.
“Have I been here before?””
I looked at her.
“Maybe.””
She walked toward the porch.
Her fingers brushed the wooden railing.
Then she stopped.
“There was a swing.””
I nodded.
“Dad built one for you.””
“I remember the sound.””
“What sound?””
“The chains. They squeaked every time I swung.””
I looked toward the old oak tree.
The swing was gone, but two rusty hooks remained.
Elena began crying.
“I remember.””
I put my arm around her.
Inside, the house smelled of dust and old wood.
Everything was almost exactly as Mom had left it.
The family photographs still lined the hallway.
My graduation picture.
Mom's wedding portrait.
A photograph of Lily holding a stuffed rabbit.
And beside it, a picture frame turned backward.
I picked it up.
The glass was cracked.
Inside was a photograph of Mom standing between two little girls.
Lily on one side.
Sarah on the other.
I stared at it.
The truth was becoming impossible to deny.
We had been three children.
I had two sisters.
I turned the photograph over.
Written in Mom's handwriting were five words.
My girls. My greatest blessings.
Elena took the frame.
“Why didn't you tell me?””
I couldn't answer.
We searched the living room, the kitchen, and the hallway.
Then Elena noticed a small key taped beneath the bottom drawer of Mom's bedroom dresser.
“Daniel?””
I came over.
She held it up.
“What's this for?””
I recognized the key immediately.
It belonged to Mom's wooden jewelry box.
I pulled the box from the top shelf of the closet.
The lock clicked open.
Inside were old rings, photographs, folded letters, and the little silver star from Sarah's missing-person photograph.
Beneath it lay a sealed envelope.
My name was written across the front.
Not Daniel.
Not Danny.
The full name.
Daniel Michael Carter.
Mom only used my middle name when something was serious.
I opened it carefully.
The letter began:
My darling boy,
If you are reading this, then something has happened that I prayed would never happen. I have carried a terrible secret for too long.
My hands started shaking.
I continued.
Sarah was not lost. She was taken.
And Margaret was not the woman who helped me search for her. She was the reason I lost her.
I stopped reading.
Elena covered her mouth.
I forced myself to continue.
I tried to tell the police, but someone warned me that if I spoke, Lily would be next.
A tear dropped onto the paper.
Daniel, if anything happens to me, find the blue notebook. It contains the truth about all three of my children.
I looked at Elena.
“All three.””
She nodded.
The letter continued.
And whatever you do, do not trust the man who calls himself your father's brother.
I froze.
Our father had died when I was twelve.
His brother, Uncle Robert, had been the only relative who stayed close to us.
He had helped Mom pay bills.
He had attended my graduation.
He had even helped organize the search for Lily.
I read the final sentence.
He knows where Sarah is.
Behind us, the floorboards creaked.
I turned sharply.
The bedroom doorway was empty.
Then Elena whispered:
“Daniel?””
I looked down at the letter.
There was one final line beneath Mom's signature.
Written in different ink.
May you like
Margaret doesn't work alone.
And suddenly, the house phone began ringing.
