Chapter 4
“Emily?”
The line went dead.
I stared at the receiver.
“Emily!”
Nothing.
The officer beside me immediately reached for his radio.
“Can we trace that?”
I gave him the number displayed on the phone.
He photographed it.
Then he stepped outside to call it in.
Michael was still on my cell.
“What happened?”
“She called.”
“Emily?”
“Yes.”
“What did she say?”
“That she doesn’t know where she is.”
I heard airport noise behind him.
Announcements.
Rolling luggage.
Voices.
Then Michael said, “Sarah, do not go to your mother’s house.”
“I wasn’t planning to.”
“You are.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I know you.”
I looked at Noah.
He had fallen asleep on the couch holding his stuffed dinosaur.
Seven years old.
Locked in a kennel because adults were afraid of what he knew.
I felt something inside me harden.
“I’m not leaving Noah.”
“Good.”
“But I’m finding Emily.”
“Let the police do it.”
“They’ve had one photograph for ten minutes.”
“And you’ve had this secret for ten minutes.”
I closed my eyes.
He was right.
That made me angrier.
“You had seven years.”
Silence.
“I’ll be home tonight,” he said.
“Maybe don’t come here.”
“Sarah.”
“I don’t know who you are right now.”
“That’s fair.”
His answer surprised me.
No defense.
No excuses.
Just pain.
“I love you.”
I couldn’t say it back.
I ended the call.
The officer returned.
“The number was a prepaid phone. Signal hit a tower east of Austin approximately twelve minutes ago.”
Austin.
Three hours away.
“My mother owns a lake house outside Bastrop.”
He looked at me.
“Exact address?”
I gave it to him.
He relayed it immediately.
For the first time, I felt hopeful.
Then Diane’s voice came from outside.
“Sarah!”
I stepped onto the porch.
She sat in the back of a patrol car.
Her wrists were cuffed.
Her face was furious.
“Tell them about the lake house!”
I stopped.
The officer beside her frowned.
“What lake house?”
I walked closer.
“How do you know about my mother’s house?”
Diane laughed.
“Because Linda and I bought it.”
Everything inside me went still.
“What?”
“Twenty years ago.”
My mother always said the property came from an inheritance.
Another lie.
I moved toward the car.
The officer raised a hand.
“Ma’am.”
“I’m fine.”
Diane leaned toward the window.
“You still think I’m the monster?”
“You locked a child in a kennel.”
“He saw something he shouldn’t have.”
“That sentence does not help you.”
Her smile disappeared.
“David wasn’t stealing from the safe.”
“What was he doing?”
“Putting something back.”
I stared at her.
“The envelope?”
“No.”
“What?”
“A key.”
“What key?”
She shook her head.
“Get me out of these handcuffs and I’ll tell you.”
I almost laughed.
“No.”
“Then find it yourself.”
She leaned back.
I turned away.
“Sarah.”
I stopped.
“Emily called you, didn’t she?”
I looked back.
Diane smiled.
There it was again.
That horrible certainty.
“How do you know?”
“Because we gave her this number.”
I stepped closer.
“Why?”
“To see what you would do.”
The officer interrupted.
“Mrs. Mitchell, step away.”
I ignored him.
“You wanted Emily to call me?”
Diane nodded.
“Why?”
“Because your mother has lost control.”
“What does that mean?”
“Linda wants the money.”
“And you don’t?”
Diane laughed.
“I already have money.”
“Then what do you want?”
She looked toward the house.
“Noah.”
My blood went cold.
I moved so fast the officer caught my arm.
“Don’t say my son’s name.”
“He is the legal trigger.”
“For the trust?”
“Yes.”
“You manipulated my fertility treatment.”
“No.”
She smiled again.
“I arranged it.”
The officer’s face hardened.
Diane continued before anyone could stop her.
“Your husband was sterile.”
I flinched.
“He knew?”
“Not then.”
“You changed the sample.”
“I saved your marriage.”
“You violated my body.”
“You wanted a baby.”
“Not like that!”
“You got Noah.”
Her casual tone made me shake.
“You think that makes it acceptable?”
“I think you love him.”
“That has nothing to do with what you did.”
Diane leaned forward.
“I also think you should be grateful.”
The officer opened the car door.
“That’s enough.”
She began screaming as he moved her farther away.
“Find the key, Sarah!”
I turned toward the house.
The key.
I searched Michael’s office.
Nothing.
Then I remembered Noah.
I woke him gently.
“Sweetheart.”
He blinked.
“Dad home?”
“Not yet.”
I brushed his hair back.
“When Grandma and that man were in Dad’s office, did they have a key?”
Noah frowned.
“Uncle David did.”
“What did it look like?”
“Little.”
“What did he do with it?”
“He put it inside Dad’s old football.”
I stared at him.
“What football?”
“The one on the shelf.”
I rushed back.
Michael kept an autographed football in a glass display case.
His father had given it to him before he died.
I removed the case.
The football felt heavier than usual.
There was a tiny cut along one seam.
Inside was a brass key.
And a folded strip of paper.
I opened it.
A storage facility name.
Austin Secure Archives.
Unit 117.
I showed the officer.
“We need this.”
He photographed everything.
“We’ll send someone.”
“No. I’m going.”
“Mrs. Mitchell—”
“My son and I can stay with my sister tonight in Austin.”
That part was true.
My younger sister Kate lived there.
She was the only member of my family I still trusted.
At least I hoped she was.
The officer told me not to interfere with any search.
I agreed.
Two hours later, Noah and I were driving south.
He slept most of the way.
I kept replaying every conversation I had ever had with my mother.
Why she never liked Michael.
Why she cried at our wedding.
Why she begged me not to use the fertility clinic Diane recommended.
I thought she hated Diane.
Maybe she was afraid of her.
Or maybe they had been partners.
My phone rang.
Kate.
“Sarah?”
“You alone?”
“Yes.”
“You swear?”
“What happened?”
“Answer me.”
“I’m alone.”
I told her enough to make her silent.
Not everything.
Just Diane.
The kennel.
Emily.
Mom.
When I finished, Kate whispered, “Come here now.”
“I’m twenty minutes away.”
“Sarah…”
“What?”
“I need to tell you something before you arrive.”
My hands tightened on the steering wheel.
“What?”
“Mom was here yesterday.”
“Why?”
“She brought a girl.”
I almost missed the exit.
“Emily?”
“She called her Emma.”
“What happened?”
“Mom said she was a friend’s daughter.”
“Where are they now?”
“I don’t know.”
“Katie.”
“I swear.”
I believed her.
Or wanted to.
“She left something.”
“What?”
“A backpack.”
My heart jumped.
“Don’t touch it.”
“Too late.”
“What’s inside?”
Kate’s voice dropped.
“Pictures of you.”
I felt cold.
“What kind?”
“Years of pictures.”
“When?”
“College. Your wedding. Pregnant with Noah. At the hospital after he was born.”
“Who took them?”
“I don’t know.”
“There’s more.”
I pulled into a gas station and stopped.
“What?”
“A notebook.”
“Emily’s?”
“I think so.”
“What does it say?”
Kate started crying.
“Sarah, she knows who Noah is.”
“How?”
“She wrote about him.”
“What did she write?”
Kate hesitated.
Then she read one sentence.
“Grandma says when Noah turns eight, everything becomes ours.”
Noah’s eighth birthday was six weeks away.
I stared at my sleeping son.
“What happens when he turns eight?”
“I don’t know.”
Kate turned another page.
Then she went quiet.
“Katie?”
“Oh my God.”
“What?”
“There’s a list of names.”
“Whose?”
“Yours. Michael’s. Noah’s.”
My skin prickled.
“And beside Noah’s name…”
“What?”
“It says ‘Transfer Day — September 30.’”
September 30.
Noah’s birthday.
“What does transfer mean?”
“I don’t know.”
Then Kate whispered, “There’s one more name.”
“Who?”
“Mine.”
I closed my eyes.
“What does it say beside yours?”
Kate began breathing faster.
“Backup guardian.”
Then someone knocked loudly on her front door.
Kate gasped.
I heard another knock.
Then my mother’s voice.
“Katherine? Open the door.”
Kate whispered, “Sarah, what do I do?”
“Do not open it.”
The knocking stopped.
For several seconds, everything was silent.
Then glass shattered.
May you like
Kate screamed.
And the call ended.
