Chapter 6: Under the Mattress
I couldn't breathe.
The photograph was still warm.
Someone had taken it hours earlier.
Inside my bedroom.
While I was sleeping.
Michael snatched it from my hand.
“Where did this come from?””
“I don't know.””
Dad walked toward him.
“Give it to me.””
Michael turned the photograph over.
His face changed.
“What?””
Dad read the message.
He swore under his breath.
Mom stood.
“What's under her bed?””
I looked at her.
“You know?””
She didn't answer.
“Mom.””
Nothing.
“Sarah.””
Her eyes lifted.
“I thought it was gone.””
“What was?””
“The second phone.””
My heart sank.
“Second?””
Michael looked at me.
“Your mother kept another device?””
“She was supposed to destroy it.””
Dad stepped toward Mom.
“You said you destroyed it.””
“I thought I did.””
Michael's voice sharpened.
“Where?””
Mom pointed toward the hallway.
“In the old house.””
I stared at her.
“Our house?””
She nodded.
“Under your bed.””
I remembered the hidden phone.
The plastic bag.
The single number.
But I'd never found anything else.
Michael said, “Someone wants you to go back.””
Dad shook his head.
“Absolutely not.””
“They're already inside the house,” Michael replied.
“What?””
Michael pointed at the photograph.
“Whoever took this had access to Emily's bedroom.””
Dad's face hardened.
“They could have planted something.””
“Exactly.””
Mom whispered, “Then we can't go back.””
I looked between them.
“You're talking like I don't get a vote.””
Dad turned to me.
“You don't.””
I stared at him.
“Excuse me?””
“You're staying here.””
“No.””
“Emily.””
“You've lied to me my entire life.””
His face tightened.
“I kept you alive.””
“You hit Mom.””
He flinched.
“You hit me.””
“I know.””
“You lied about your name.””
“I know.””
“You pretended to be my father.””
“I know.””
I stepped closer.
“Then you don't get to tell me what I do anymore.””
Silence.
Michael watched us.
Then he nodded.
“She deserves the truth.””
Dad looked at him.
“You're willing to risk her life?””
“No,” Michael said.
“I'm willing to stop making decisions for her.””
Mom began crying.
“I'm sorry.””
I looked at her.
“Show me.””
She hesitated.
Then she reached into her pocket.
She pulled out a small brass key.
“This opens the floorboard beneath your bed.””
I stared at it.
“You had the key?””
“Yes.””
“Why didn't you tell me?””
“Because every time I looked at you, I remembered why I ran.””
“What happened when you ran?””
Mom sat down.
“You were three.””
She took a breath.
“Your father, Ethan, discovered Blackridge had a hidden archive beneath one of their facilities.””
Michael nodded.
“He copied the files.””
Mom continued.
“They contained names. Bank accounts. Locations. Recordings.””
“And you saw them?””
“I saw one recording.””
“What recording?””
Mom looked at Dad.
He closed his eyes.
“Tell her.””
She swallowed.
“It showed a man killing Ethan.””
My stomach twisted.
“Who?””
Mom shook her head.
“I couldn't see his face.””
“Then how do you know it was Ethan?””
“I saw him fall.””
I looked at Dad.
“And you?””
“I arrived afterward.””
“You saw him dead?””
“Yes.””
“Then why did you become him?””
Dad's voice cracked.
“Because Blackridge didn't know Ethan had died.””
I stared.
“They believed he escaped with the evidence.””
Dad looked at me.
“They were searching for him.””
“So you pretended to be him.””
“Yes.””
“To protect Mom?””
“To protect you.””
Michael interrupted.
“And because Daniel knew something Blackridge didn't.””
“What?””
Dad looked at him.
“Not here.””
Michael shook his head.
“Now.””
Dad's eyes met mine.
“The evidence wasn't hidden in a computer.””
My pulse quickened.
“Where was it?””
He pointed at me.
“You carried it.””
I laughed nervously.
“What?””
“When you were three, your mother hid a memory card inside your favorite stuffed rabbit.””
I stared.
“The blue rabbit?””
Mom nodded.
“I thought it was just a toy.””
“It was.””
“Then what happened to it?””
Mom looked away.
“You lost it.””
“When?””
“The night we entered witness protection.””
I suddenly remembered something.
A room.
Smoke.
My mother screaming.
A blue rabbit in my hands.
A man grabbing it.
I gasped.
“I remember.””
Everyone turned toward me.
“What?”” Michael asked.
I closed my eyes.
“I remember the rabbit.””
Mom grabbed my wrist.
“What do you remember?””
“A man took it.””
Dad stepped closer.
“What man?””
“I don't know.””
“Look at me.””
I opened my eyes.
“He had a scar.””
“Where?””
“His neck.””
Dad went completely still.
Michael's expression changed.
“You remember him?””
I nodded slowly.
“He said something.””
“What?””
I concentrated.
A child's memory surfaced.
A deep voice.
A red door.
Smoke.
And a sentence.
“Tell Sarah the archive belongs to me.””
Mom covered her mouth.
Dad whispered, “No.””
Michael stared at him.
“You know that voice.””
Dad didn't answer.
“Daniel,” Michael said.
Dad's eyes remained fixed on me.
Finally, he spoke.
“His name was Victor Kane.””
Mom started shaking.
“Victor died seventeen years ago.””
Michael shook his head.
“No.””
Everyone looked at him.
“What do you mean?””
Michael reached into his jacket and pulled out a file.
He opened it.
A photograph slid onto the table.
The man in it was older than the one from my memory.
Gray hair.
Cold eyes.
A thin scar running down his neck.
I knew him immediately.
“That’s him.””
Mom gasped.
Dad stumbled backward.
Michael whispered, “Victor Kane is alive.””
The room fell silent.
Then the phone in Michael's pocket rang.
He answered.
“Reyes.””
A distorted voice spoke.
Michael's expression went rigid.
I could hear only one side.
“Who?””
Pause.
“What do you want?””
Another pause.
Michael slowly looked at me.
Then he put the call on speaker.
Victor's voice filled the room.
“Hello, Emily.””
I couldn't move.
He continued.
“You've spent seventeen years wondering why your mother was afraid of the dark.””
Mom began sobbing.
Victor laughed softly.
“Now you're going to learn what happened in the basement.””
Dad grabbed the phone.
“Victor!””
“Daniel.””
The voice became colder.
“You stole my life.””
Dad's face hardened.
“You murdered Ethan.””
“I did.””
Mom screamed.
Victor continued.
“And I would have killed Sarah too.””
I stepped forward.
“Why didn't you?””
Silence.
Then Victor said:
“Because she was carrying something far more valuable than those files.””
I felt my stomach drop.
“What?””
His answer was barely above a whisper.
“She was carrying you.””
The call disconnected.
Nobody moved.
Then the brass key in my mother's hand slipped from her fingers and hit the floor.
I picked it up.
“What does that mean?””
Mom stared at me.
And for the first time in my life, my mother looked at me not as her daughter—
but as someone she had been afraid to meet again.
“Emily,” she whispered, “there's something about your birth that I never told you.””
She pointed toward the door.
“Get your coat.””
“Why?””
“Because the people who protected us for seventeen years are gone.””
Michael looked at the dark window.
Outside, somewhere beyond the trees, an engine started.
May you like
Mom's voice broke.
“And Victor knows exactly where we're going.””
