“Well,” he whispered.
“There she is.”
Every instinct in my body screamed at me to grab Sophie and run.
But I didn’t move.
I couldn’t.
Detective Aaron Cole sat beside me as casually as if we’d bumped into each other at a coffee shop.
Five years earlier, that face had meant safety.
Cole had stood in my kitchen while volunteers searched the woods.
He had brought me coffee during sleepless nights.
He had called me every few days during the first year.
He had hugged me when another lead turned into nothing.
And now Jennifer had circled his face in red ink.
If Detective Cole ever learns you have this photograph, he’ll come for you too.
I slowly moved the photograph beneath the backpack.
Cole noticed.
His smile didn’t change.
“You look frightened, Claire.”
“Why are you here?”
“I could ask you the same thing.”
“This is a public station.”
“It is.”
His eyes dropped toward the brass key beside my hand.
“Locker 317?”
My heart stopped.
He knew.
I tightened my grip on Sophie’s carrier.
“How do you know about that?”
Cole leaned back.
“Jennifer always did like hiding things.”
Hearing my daughter’s name from his mouth made my skin crawl.
“You’ve seen her.”
It wasn’t a question.
Cole looked toward the people moving through the station.
“Careful.”
“Answer me.”
“Not here.”
“You knew where she was.”
“Claire.”
“For five years?”
He finally looked at me.
His expression had changed.
“Things are more complicated than you think.”
I almost laughed.
“Everyone keeps telling me that.”
“Because it’s true.”
“My sixteen-year-old daughter disappeared.”
“I remember.”
“You were supposed to find her.”
“I tried.”
“You knew she was alive.”
Cole’s jaw tightened.
I saw it.
Tiny.
Almost invisible.
But it was enough.
“You knew.”
He didn’t answer.
Anger replaced my fear.
“You stood inside my house while I cried.”
“Keep your voice down.”
“You watched me beg people to bring my daughter home.”
“Claire.”
“You knew she was alive!”
Several people turned toward us.
Cole leaned closer.
“Lower your voice if you want Jennifer to stay that way.”
I stopped.
“What did you say?”
“You heard me.”
“Are you threatening her?”
“No.”
“Then where is she?”
“I don’t know.”
“Liar.”
“I haven’t seen Jennifer in months.”
Months.
Not years.
Months.
My fingers tightened around the carrier.
“You just admitted it.”
Cole closed his eyes briefly.
“Damn it.”
“How many times have you seen her?”
“That’s irrelevant.”
“Not to me.”
“Claire, you need to leave.”
“With you?”
“No.”
“Then why did you come?”
“To warn you.”
I stared at him.
“About what?”
“Mark.”
Of course.
My husband.
Again.
“You expect me to trust you?”
“No.”
Cole looked toward Sophie.
“But you should be afraid of your husband.”
“Jennifer told me you helped him hide her.”
Cole’s head snapped toward me.
“What?”
“She said you knew where she was.”
“She told you that?”
“Yes.”
“Today?”
I didn’t answer.
His expression changed immediately.
“Claire, did you speak to Jennifer today?”
“Why?”
“Did you?”
“Maybe.”
He leaned closer.
“Where is she?”
“I thought you knew.”
“I told you, I haven’t seen her in months.”
“You also told me for five years that you didn’t know whether she was alive.”
Cole looked away.
That was answer enough.
I grabbed the backpack.
“I have nothing else to say to you.”
I stood.
So did he.
“Don’t leave with that drive.”
My heart jumped.
I slowly looked at him.
“I never said anything about a drive.”
Cole realized his mistake.
For the first time, he looked genuinely nervous.
“Claire.”
I stepped backward.
“How do you know what’s in the backpack?”
“Jennifer told me about it years ago.”
“So you knew about 317.”
“I knew there was evidence.”
“What evidence?”
He didn’t answer.
I backed away again.
Cole reached toward me.
“Don’t.”
His hand stopped.
People were watching now.
Good.
I wanted witnesses.
I lifted Sophie against my chest.
“If you follow me, I’ll scream.”
“Claire, please.”
“Stay away from us.”
I started walking.
Then Cole said something behind me.
“Daniel isn’t who Jennifer thinks he is.”
I stopped.
Don’t turn around.
Keep walking.
But I couldn’t.
“What?”
Cole stayed several feet away.
“You spoke to Daniel, didn’t you?”
I said nothing.
“That’s how Sophie reached you.”
My stomach tightened.
“How do you know Daniel?”
Cole gave me a tired look.
“Ask yourself why a grown man was waiting outside your house the night a sixteen-year-old girl disappeared.”
My heart skipped.
Daniel had told me Jennifer called him.
But he had never explained how they knew each other.
“Who is he?”
Cole glanced around.
Then he said:
“Daniel is Mark’s younger brother.”
Everything inside me stopped.
“No.”
“You’ve never met him because Mark made sure you didn’t.”
“Mark doesn’t have a brother.”
“Yes, he does.”
“We’ve been married twenty-one years.”
“And your husband spent all twenty-one deciding which parts of his life you were allowed to know.”
I stared at Cole.
“Why would he hide a brother?”
“Because Daniel spent eight years in prison.”
“For what?”
Cole hesitated.
“Kidnapping.”
My stomach dropped.
I immediately thought about Jennifer.
“No.”
“Not Jennifer.”
“Then who?”
“A fifteen-year-old girl.”
My hands went cold.
“Daniel told me he helped Jennifer.”
“He may have.”
“That doesn’t make sense.”
“Very little about this makes sense without the whole story.”
“Then tell me the whole story.”
Cole looked at the backpack.
“Not while you’re carrying that.”
“The flash drive?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because people have died trying to get it.”
My throat tightened.
“Who?”
Cole didn’t answer.
I reached into my purse.
My phone.
“I’ll call the police.”
He almost smiled.
“You’re talking to the police.”
“Not you.”
His smile vanished.
“That’s exactly the problem.”
I froze.
“What does that mean?”
“Jennifer didn’t disappear because of one dirty detective or one lying father.”
Cole lowered his voice.
“She stumbled into something much bigger.”
“Bigger than what?”
“Mark’s company.”
My husband had owned a small logistics business for almost fifteen years.
Trucks.
Warehouses.
Commercial deliveries.
Boring.
Ordinary.
At least that’s what I thought.
“What about his company?”
Cole stared at me.
“Those financial records Jennifer found weren’t ordinary business payments.”
My mouth went dry.
“What were they?”
“Payoffs.”
“To whom?”
“People who made certain shipments disappear from records.”
“What shipments?”
Before Cole could answer, the prepaid phone rang.
J.
Jennifer.
I snatched it up.
“Jennifer?”
Nothing.
Then breathing.
“Jennifer?”
A whisper.
“Mom.”
I nearly collapsed with relief.
“Where are you?”
“Did you leave the station?”
“No.”
“You need to go.”
“Jennifer, Cole is here.”
Silence.
Then:
“Run.”
Cole heard her.
“Jennifer!”
She went silent.
Cole stepped closer.
“Jennifer, listen to me.”
“Don’t let him touch Sophie!”
Cole froze.
I backed away.
“Why?”
Jennifer’s voice shook.
“Because he knows.”
“Knows what?”
“The baby isn’t Mark’s granddaughter.”
I stared at Sophie.
“What?”
Cole whispered:
“Jennifer, stop.”
She heard him.
“Mom, get away from him.”
“Jennifer, whose baby is this?”
“My daughter.”
“I know. Who’s her father?”
Silence.
Then Jennifer whispered:
“Daniel.”
My knees nearly gave out.
Daniel.
The man who had delivered Sophie.
Mark’s supposed brother.
“Daniel is Sophie’s father?”
“Yes.”
Cole closed his eyes.
“Jennifer, you have no idea what you’ve done.”
She shouted through the phone:
“Don’t listen to him!”
I looked at Cole.
“What aren’t you telling me?”
He stared at Sophie.
Then said:
“Daniel can’t be the father.”
Jennifer went silent.
“What?”
I asked.
Cole swallowed.
“Because Daniel died three years ago.”
The station noise seemed to disappear.
I stared at him.
“I spoke to Daniel today.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“You spoke to someone calling himself Daniel.”
My pulse hammered.
“Jennifer?”
She was crying.
“Mom, don’t believe him.”
“Is Daniel alive?”
“Yes.”
“Have you seen him?”
Silence.
“Jennifer.”
“Not recently.”
“How recently?”
“Eight months.”
I closed my eyes.
Eight months.
“When was Sophie conceived?”
Jennifer didn’t answer.
I didn’t need her to.
Cole whispered:
“Exactly.”
“No.”
Jennifer shouted:
“He isn’t dead!”
“Then why hasn’t he shown himself?” Cole asked.
“Shut up!”
“Jennifer, I saw the body.”
“You saw what they wanted you to see!”
Cole’s face changed.
That sentence affected him.
“What does that mean?”
Jennifer stopped.
“Jennifer?”
Nothing.
Then:
“Mom, open the flash drive.”
Cole immediately said:
“Don’t.”
“Why?”
“Because if you connect that drive to anything networked, they’ll know.”
“Who are THEY?”
Jennifer answered.
“The people Dad worked for.”
Cole looked around the station.
“Claire, we need to move.”
I almost laughed.
“Now you want to help?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because if Jennifer is right and Daniel is alive, then everything I believed about this case is wrong.”
I stared at him.
“You expect me to trust that?”
“No.”
He pointed toward a security camera above us.
“But somebody already knows you’re here.”
I looked up.
The camera was aimed directly at Locker 317.
A tiny red light blinked.
Cole reached into his coat slowly.
I backed away.
“Don’t.”
“I’m getting my phone.”
He showed me his empty hand first.
Then pulled it out.
He made a call.
“Station security. East locker corridor. I need camera access restricted immediately.”
He listened.
His face changed.
“What do you mean?”
Pause.
“When?”
Another pause.
Then he hung up.
“What happened?”
Cole looked at me.
“That camera isn’t connected to station security.”
My skin prickled.
“What?”
“It was installed separately.”
“By who?”
“I don’t know.”
Jennifer whispered through the phone:
“Mom.”
“Yes?”
“You need to look underneath the bench.”
I froze.
“What?”
“The bench you’re standing beside.”
I looked down.
“Why?”
“Please.”
I shifted Sophie’s carrier carefully.
Cole crouched first.
“Don’t touch anything.”
He looked beneath the bench.
Then his expression changed.
“What?”
Cole reached underneath and pulled out a small black box.
A green light blinked.
“What is that?”
“Tracker.”
My heart dropped.
“They knew I was coming?”
“No.”
Cole turned it over.
“This was activated recently.”
Jennifer began crying.
“Mom, I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
“I didn’t send you to 317 alone.”
I stared at the phone.
“What does that mean?”
“I sent someone to watch you.”
“Who?”
Silence.
“Jennifer?”
Then I heard another voice on her end.
Male.
“Give me the phone.”
Jennifer gasped.
“No.”
A struggle.
“Jennifer!”
The phone struck something.
Then the man’s voice became clearer.
“Claire?”
I recognized it instantly.
My husband.
Mark.
“Mark.”
Cole’s face hardened.
“Where are you?”
Mark laughed softly.
“Hello, Aaron.”
Cole grabbed the phone.
“If you hurt her—”
“You still pretending you’re the good cop?”
“Where is Jennifer?”
“She’s exactly where she chose to be.”
Jennifer shouted somewhere in the background:
“Mom, don’t listen—”
Her voice disappeared.
I screamed:
“MARK!”
“Claire.”
His voice was calm.
Too calm.
“You need to bring me the flash drive.”
“Where is my daughter?”
“Bring me the drive.”
“I want Jennifer.”
“And I want what she stole.”
Cole shook his head at me.
Don’t agree.
I didn’t care.
“You give me Jennifer, I’ll give you the drive.”
“Mom, NO!”
I heard a slap.
Then silence.
My entire body shook.
“Did you just hit her?”
Mark didn’t answer.
“MARK!”
“Thirty minutes.”
“Where?”
“You’ll receive an address.”
“Let me speak to her.”
“Thirty minutes.”
The call ended.
I stood frozen.
Then I turned toward Cole.
“You’re taking me to her.”
“No.”
“What?”
“That’s exactly what Mark wants.”
“I don’t care.”
“You should.”
“He has my daughter!”
“And you have her daughter.”
I looked at Sophie.
My granddaughter was awake now.
Those wide gray-blue eyes were watching me.
Cole lowered his voice.
“If you walk into wherever Mark is holding Jennifer with Sophie and that drive, you’re giving him everything.”
“Then what am I supposed to do?”
“Give me ten minutes.”
“For what?”
“To find out what’s actually on that drive.”
“You said we couldn’t connect it.”
“Not to a networked computer.”
Cole looked toward the station offices.
“I have an isolated forensic laptop in my car.”
Jennifer’s note flashed through my mind.
Detective Cole had helped Mark hide her.
Could I trust him?
No.
But could I trust anyone?
Also no.
“Five minutes,” I said.
Cole nodded.
We moved toward the parking garage.
I kept Sophie against me and the backpack over my shoulder.
I never let Cole walk behind me.
His unmarked sedan was parked near the exit.
He opened the trunk.
Inside was a black equipment case.
He pulled out a laptop.
“No Wi-Fi. No cellular connection.”
He inserted the flash drive.
A password screen appeared.
“Damn.”
“What?”
“Encrypted.”
I stared at it.
Password hint:
THE DAY EVERYTHING CHANGED.
I immediately knew.
Jennifer’s birthday.
April 14.
I entered 0414.
Incorrect.
Cole frowned.
“Maybe the day she disappeared.”
September 22.
0922.
Incorrect.
Then I thought differently.
The day everything changed.
Not for me.
For Jennifer.
I remembered the photograph.
Eleven months after she disappeared.
The date written beneath it.
August 3.
0803.
The screen unlocked.
Folders appeared.
Hundreds.
Invoices.
Photographs.
Audio files.
Videos.
Cole clicked the first folder.
MARK.
Inside were scanned documents.
Bank transfers.
Shipping manifests.
Names.
Cole’s expression grew darker.
“What?”
“These are records from your husband’s company.”
“I know.”
“No.”
He pointed at several codes.
“These are evidence numbers.”
“Evidence from what?”
“Open investigations.”
I stared at him.
“How did Mark have them?”
“He shouldn’t.”
Cole opened another folder.
POLICE.
There were names.
Officers.
Detectives.
Judges.
Payments beside each.
My stomach turned.
Then I saw:
AARON COLE — $75,000.
I slowly looked at him.
Cole went pale.
“Claire.”
“You were paid.”
“No.”
“Your name is right there.”
“I never received seventy-five thousand dollars.”
“Why should I believe you?”
“You shouldn’t.”
At least he was consistent.
“Then what is it?”
“I don’t know.”
I stepped away.
Cole lifted his hands.
“Claire, if I were working with Mark, why would I show you this?”
“Maybe because you didn’t expect your name to be there.”
He had no answer.
I grabbed the laptop.
Then another folder caught my eye.
JENNIFER.
I opened it.
Photographs filled the screen.
My daughter at seventeen.
Eighteen.
Nineteen.
Twenty.
Someone had been documenting her life.
Stores.
Bus stations.
Apartment buildings.
Restaurants.
Some photographs were taken through windows.
I felt sick.
“They were watching her.”
Cole nodded.
Then I saw the final image.
Jennifer pregnant.
Daniel beside her.
His face was clear.
Cole leaned closer.
“That isn’t Daniel.”
My heart stopped.
“Then who is he?”
“I don’t know.”
I stared at the man I’d spoken to.
Jennifer believed he was Daniel.
Or wanted me to believe it.
Then I noticed another folder.
SOPHIE.
Only one file.
A document.
I opened it.
It was a DNA report.
My hands started shaking.
Mother:
Jennifer Miller.
Father:
I stared at the name.
“No.”
Cole leaned toward the screen.
Then he swore.
“What?”
The father’s name wasn’t Daniel.
It wasn’t anyone I’d heard of.
It said:
AARON COLE.
I slowly turned toward the detective.
Cole looked as shocked as I felt.
“No.”
My arms tightened around Sophie.
“No.”
He backed away.
“Claire, I swear to you—”
“Don’t come near her.”
“That is impossible.”
“You’re Sophie’s father?”
“No!”
“Jennifer was sixteen when she disappeared!”
“I never touched your daughter!”
I grabbed my phone.
“I am calling the police.”
“Good.”
That stopped me.
“What?”
“Call them.”
Cole pointed at the DNA report.
“Because somebody wants you to believe I fathered that child, and I want to know why.”
My phone rang before I could dial.
Unknown number.
I answered.
“Hello?”
A man’s voice.
“Claire Miller?”
“Yes.”
“My name is Dr. Evan Harris.”
“Who?”
“I worked at Northfield Genetics.”
I looked at the DNA report.
The laboratory name at the top:
NORTHFIELD GENETICS.
My heart raced.
“How did you get this number?”
“Jennifer gave it to me.”
Cole leaned closer.
I put the call on speaker.
“Where is Jennifer?”
“I don’t know.”
“Then why are you calling?”
“Because she told me that if anyone ever opened the Sophie file, I needed to explain something immediately.”
I stared at Cole.
“What?”
Dr. Harris took a breath.
“The DNA report you’re looking at is authentic.”
Cole whispered:
“No.”
“But the interpretation isn’t what you think.”
“What does that mean?”
“Aaron Cole isn’t Sophie’s biological father.”
Relief flashed across Cole’s face.
I didn’t feel relieved.
“Then why does the report say he is?”
“Because the DNA sample labeled Aaron Cole didn’t come from Detective Cole.”
Cole frowned.
“Whose was it?”
Dr. Harris hesitated.
“That’s the reason Jennifer disappeared.”
My heart hammered.
“Whose DNA was it?”
“The sample came from the unidentified remains recovered during an investigation twenty-two years ago.”
Cole’s face changed.
“What investigation?”
Dr. Harris gave him a case number.
Cole stared at the screen.
“I know that case.”
“What was it?”
He whispered:
“A murdered newborn.”
I felt sick.
“What does that have to do with Sophie?”
Dr. Harris continued.
“The sample was mislabeled years ago.”
“Mislabeled by who?”
“Someone inside the police department.”
Cole sat down heavily.
Then he whispered:
“Mark.”
Dr. Harris said nothing.
I looked at him.
“What are you thinking?”
Cole stared at the payment records.
“My name.”
The fake DNA label.
The seventy-five-thousand-dollar payment.
The surveillance photographs.
Someone had been building evidence against Cole.
Not for days.
For years.
“Mark was framing you,” I whispered.
Cole nodded slowly.
“For something.”
Then Dr. Harris said:
“Not Mark.”
We both froze.
“What?”
“Mark helped.”
“Then who?”
“I can’t say over the phone.”
“Why?”
“Because the person who ordered those records changed is still in law enforcement.”
My blood turned cold.
“Who?”
Before he could answer, a gunshot exploded through the phone.
I screamed.
The line went dead.
Cole grabbed his phone.
“Trace that call.”
I backed against the car, clutching Sophie.
Then the prepaid phone vibrated.
A text.
An address.
Underneath:
29 MINUTES.
BRING THE DRIVE.
COME ALONE.
I showed Cole.
“I have to go.”
“You are not going alone.”
“They’ll hurt Jennifer.”
“Maybe.”
I stared at him.
“What do you mean maybe?”
Cole pointed toward the laptop.
“Look at the address.”
I did.
Something changed in his face.
“You know it?”
“Yes.”
“What is it?”
“An abandoned warehouse.”
“Mark’s?”
“No.”
“Whose?”
Cole looked directly at me.
“Mine.”
My heart stopped.
“What?”
“My father owned it.”
I stepped away.
“You said you didn’t know what any of this was.”
“I don’t.”
“Your name is on the DNA report. Your name is on the payments. Now the address belongs to your family?”
“I know how it looks.”
“It looks like Jennifer was right about you!”
Cole grabbed the laptop.
“Then don’t trust me.”
He opened another folder.
“Trust the evidence.”
He searched the warehouse address.
One file appeared.
A video.
Dated five years earlier.
The night Jennifer disappeared.
I stopped breathing.
Cole clicked play.
The footage showed the warehouse interior.
Mark entered first.
Then Jennifer.
Sixteen years old.
Alive.
Terrified.
Then another man walked into frame.
Daniel.
Or the man I had believed was Daniel.
And finally…
Detective Cole.
I looked at the man standing beside me.
He looked equally stunned.
“You were there.”
Cole shook his head.
“I don’t remember this.”
The video continued.
Jennifer was shouting.
Mark grabbed her arm.
Cole moved between them.
Then the fourth man stepped toward the camera.
For the first time, I saw his face clearly.
Cole whispered:
“Oh my God.”
“Who is he?”
Cole didn’t answer.
“WHO?”
His face had turned white.
“My brother.”
I stared at him.
“You have a brother?”
“Had.”
“What was his name?”
Cole looked at Sophie.
“Daniel.”
My blood went cold.
Daniel wasn’t Mark’s brother.
He was Cole’s.
And according to Cole, Daniel had died three years ago.
The video kept playing.
Daniel turned toward Jennifer.
Then Jennifer handed him something.
The flash drive.
The exact flash drive in my hand.
Mark lunged toward him.
The video suddenly cut to black.
But the audio continued.
Jennifer screaming.
Mark shouting.
A crash.
Then a gunshot.
I covered my mouth.
And finally, one sentence.
A man’s voice.
Cole’s voice.
“Take Jennifer. I’ll handle Mark.”
The recording ended.
I stared at him.
“You helped her.”
Cole didn’t move.
“I don’t remember.”
“How can you not remember?”
“I don’t know.”
Then he touched the back of his head.
I noticed a thin scar beneath his hairline.
“What happened to you?”
Cole stared at me.
“Three days after Jennifer disappeared, I was found unconscious in my apartment.”
My heart stopped.
“They told me I’d been drinking.”
“Were you?”
“I didn’t think so.”
“What do you remember?”
“Almost nothing from that week.”
He looked at the screen.
“But apparently I knew Jennifer.”
Then another video file appeared automatically.
Scheduled playback.
The screen went black.
Jennifer appeared.
Older.
Pregnant.
She looked directly into the camera.
“Mom, if you’re watching this with Detective Cole, then I was right.”
I leaned toward the screen.
Jennifer continued.
“Aaron didn’t betray me.”
Cole closed his eyes.
“He saved me.”
I started crying.
“But he doesn’t remember because they made sure he wouldn’t.”
Cole stared at the screen.
Jennifer looked over her shoulder.
Then back at the camera.
“And Daniel isn’t dead.”
Cole whispered:
“Jennifer…”
“He’s been protecting me for five years.”
My mind raced.
Then Jennifer said:
“But Sophie isn’t Daniel’s daughter.”
I froze.
Cole stared at the screen.
Jennifer placed one hand over her pregnant stomach.
“Her father is someone Mom knows.”
My heart pounded.
“Who?”
As if she could hear me, Jennifer continued.
“And if Mom has reached this video, she’s finally ready to know why I couldn’t come home.”
She lifted a photograph toward the camera.
A man.
My stomach dropped.
I recognized him instantly.
“No.”
Cole looked at me.
“Claire?”
I couldn’t breathe.
Jennifer said:
“Mom, I’m sorry.”
The photograph filled the screen.
My husband.
Mark.
But Jennifer wasn’t pointing at Mark.
She was pointing at the man standing beside him.
A man I hadn’t seen in more than twenty years.
A man my family told me was dead.
My older brother.
Michael.
I whispered:
“That’s impossible.”
Jennifer continued.
“Uncle Michael is alive.”
My hands went numb.
“And he’s the person Dad has been protecting since before I disappeared.”
The video flickered.
Then Jennifer leaned closer.
“Mom, Michael is Sophie’s father.”
I felt the world tilt.
“No.”
Cole grabbed my arm before I fell.
I barely felt him.
My brother.
My missing daughter.
My granddaughter.
None of it made sense.
Then Jennifer said the words that turned my confusion into horror.
“Mom, before you think the worst, listen carefully.”
I stared at the screen.
“Michael isn’t my biological uncle.”
My heart stopped.
“What?”
Jennifer’s eyes filled with tears.
“Because you’re not his biological sister.”
I couldn’t move.
“And that’s what I found on Dad’s computer when I was sixteen.”
She held up another document.
“My father’s files contained your original birth certificate.”
I stared at the screen.
Jennifer whispered:
“Claire, the people who raised you weren’t your biological parents.”
The video suddenly ended.
Silence.
Cole and I stared at each other.
Then Sophie’s carrier made a soft sound.
I looked down.
There was something beneath her blanket.
Something I hadn’t noticed before.
A second cellphone.
The screen lit up.
LIVE VIDEO CALL.
I answered.
Jennifer appeared.
She was crying.
But alive.
“Mom.”
“Jennifer!”
“Don’t go to the warehouse.”
“Where are you?”
She looked behind her.
“I’m already here.”
My blood turned cold.
Then someone stepped into frame.
A man.
Older than the photograph.
But unmistakable.
Michael.
The brother I had mourned for twenty-two years.
He looked directly into the camera.
Then he smiled.
“Hello, Claire.”
My entire body went numb.
“Michael?”
“It’s been a long time.”
“Where is my daughter?”
He placed a hand on Jennifer’s shoulder.
She flinched.
“Right here.”
“Take your hand off her.”
His smile widened.
Then he looked toward someone outside the camera frame.
“You were right.”
My stomach tightened.
“Who are you talking to?”
Michael turned the phone.
Another person stepped into view.
Mark.
My husband.
He stared directly at me.
“Bring the flash drive, Claire.”
I held Sophie tighter.
Mark smiled.
“And bring my granddaughter.”
Jennifer screamed:
“NO! MOM, DON’T BRING SOPHIE!”
Michael grabbed the phone.
The image shook.
Then, before the call disconnected, Jennifer shouted one final sentence:
“MOM, MARK ISN’T MY FATHER!”
The screen went black.
And beside me, Detective Cole whispered:
“What the hell did she just say?”
TO BE CONTINUED…
