Chapter 3: The Woman in the Photograph
Mom wouldn't let me near the windows.
She pulled the curtains shut with both hands, then checked the locks on every door downstairs.
I watched her from the kitchen floor.
She moved like someone who had spent years expecting danger to come through a door.
“Mom.””
She didn't answer.
“Mom, who is Daniel?””
She finally looked at me.
“I should have told you years ago.””
“Then tell me now.””
She sat across from me.
Her bruised cheek had begun to swell.
For a few seconds, neither of us spoke.
Then she said, “Your father isn't the man you think he is.””
I almost laughed.
“That's what everyone keeps saying.””
“Emily—”
“I saw him beat you.””
Her face crumpled.
“I know.””
“And he hit me.””
“I know.””
“You don't get to protect him anymore.””
“I’m not protecting him.””
“Then what are you protecting?””
Mom looked toward the hallway.
“The truth.””
A knock came at the front door.
Three slow taps.
Mom stood immediately.
I grabbed her wrist.
“Who is it?””
She didn't answer.
The knock came again.
“Sarah?””
Mom's face lost all color.
“That's Daniel.””
I stared at her.
“You said he wasn't supposed to come.””
“He wasn't.””
The police officers were still outside.
One approached the door.
“Stay back,” he told us.
He opened it slightly.
A tall man stood on the porch.
He was in his late forties, wearing a dark coat despite the warm evening.
His eyes went straight to Mom.
“Sarah.””
Mom stepped forward.
“Daniel.””
Then he looked at me.
For a moment, neither of us spoke.
His expression changed.
Not surprise.
Recognition.
He knew me.
“Emily,” he said.
I tightened my grip on Mom's sleeve.
“How do you know me?””
Daniel looked at Mom.
“She hasn't told you?””
“No.””
He closed his eyes briefly.
“Sarah.””
Mom whispered, “I was trying to keep her out of it.””
Daniel stepped inside.
The police officer stopped him.
“Sir, you're going to need to explain who you are.””
Daniel reached into his coat and pulled out an identification card.
The officer examined it.
His expression changed.
“Federal?””
Daniel nodded.
“Special assignment.””
I stared at him.
“What does that mean?””
Daniel looked at me.
“It means your mother wasn't hiding from your father.””
He paused.
“She was hiding from the people who wanted your father dead.””
I frowned.
“That doesn't make sense.””
“It will.””
Mom stood.
“Daniel, don't.””
He turned toward her.
“We don't have time anymore.””
“What happened?””
“Your father's arrest changed everything.””
Mom shook her head.
“They won't know.””
“They already know.””
Daniel looked at me.
“They know Emily called me.””
My stomach dropped.
“Who?””
Daniel didn't answer.
Instead, he asked Mom, “Do you still have it?””
She hesitated.
“Have what?””
“The photograph.””
Mom's eyes flickered toward the stairs.
I noticed.
“What photograph?””
Neither of them answered.
I stood.
“Mom.””
She sighed.
Then she walked upstairs.
We followed.
She entered her bedroom and pulled an old wooden box from beneath the bed.
The box was covered in dust.
She unlocked it with a tiny key from around her neck.
Inside were documents, photographs, and a folded newspaper clipping.
Mom lifted one photograph.
Her hands shook.
She gave it to me.
It showed three people standing outside a courthouse.
Mom.
Dad.
And a woman I'd never seen before.
The woman had dark hair and a scar above her left eyebrow.
On the back, someone had written:
*Sarah Collins. Ethan Collins. Agent Rebecca Vale.*
I looked at Mom.
“Who is Rebecca?””
Daniel answered.
“She was your mother's partner.””
“Partner in what?””
Mom's eyes filled with tears.
“She helped me disappear.””
I stared at the photograph again.
“Disappear from who?””
Mom sat on the edge of the bed.
“Your father.””
I shook my head.
“You were married.””
“Yes.””
“Then why would you disappear from him?””
“Because I was undercover.””
The room seemed to tilt.
I looked at Daniel.
He nodded.
“Your mother was investigating a criminal organization.””
“Dad?””
“Your father was one of their senior members.””
My fingers tightened around the photograph.
“No.””
Mom whispered, “I fell in love with him before I knew who he was.””
“And then?””
“I found out.””
“What did you do?””
“I tried to leave.””
Mom looked down at the photograph.
“That was when they came for me.””
Daniel stepped closer.
“Rebecca helped your mother enter witness protection.””
I looked at Mom.
“Witness protection?””
She nodded.
“But if you were in witness protection, why was Dad still here?””
Mom didn't answer.
Daniel did.
“Because your father found her.””
I stared at him.
“Then why didn't you take us away?””
Daniel's expression hardened.
“We did.””
“What?””
“You were three years old.””
My heart stopped.
“You don't remember because you were too young.””
Mom covered her face.
“We changed names. We moved states. We built a new life.””
I looked at the photograph.
“Then how did Dad find us?””
Daniel said, “That's the question we're trying to answer.””
A sound came from downstairs.
A door opening.
Everyone froze.
Daniel reached for his weapon.
The police officer outside shouted, “Who's there?””
No answer.
Then footsteps.
Slow.
Measured.
Coming up the stairs.
Mom grabbed my hand.
Daniel moved in front of us.
The footsteps stopped outside the bedroom.
A piece of paper slid underneath the door.
I stared at it.
Daniel bent down and picked it up.
His face changed.
“What is it?”” I asked.
He didn't answer.
I grabbed the paper from his hand.
There was only one sentence.
*WE KNOW WHERE THE GIRL IS.*
Underneath it was a name.
*REBECCA VALE.*
Mom made a strangled sound.
Daniel whispered, “That's impossible.””
I looked at him.
“Why?””
He stared at the name.
May you like
“Because Rebecca Vale died fifteen years ago.””
Then the bedroom lights went out.
