Michael read the message three times before handing my phone back.
STOP LOOKING FOR THE GIRL WHILE YOU CAN.
The kitchen clock showed 1:17 a.m. Outside, the street had gone quiet again. The dark sedan was gone, but its absence did nothing to ease the pressure gathering behind my ribs.
“Call the police,” I said.
Michael did not move.
“I mean it.”
“I know.”
“Then why are you standing there?”
“Because we need to think about what we tell them.”
I stared at him.
“Someone threatened me.”
“Yes.”
“There is nothing to think about.”
Michael walked toward the desk and closed the folder containing Lily’s birth record.
“That message by itself is vague.”
“It mentions the girl.”
“The police will ask what girl.”
“So we tell them.”
“And then?”
“And then they investigate.”
His expression told me he did not believe that.
I folded my arms.
“You already tried to involve the police once.”
“Yes.”
“When?”
“2016.”
“What happened?”
“They asked for evidence.”
“You had evidence.”
“I had a dead doctor’s letter, inconsistent medical files, and a trust agreement that did not prove a crime.”
“What about the break-in?”
“No forced entry.”
“Someone stole my father’s documents.”
“I couldn’t prove what was missing.”
I moved toward the window again, though I resisted looking outside.
“So your solution was silence.”
“My solution was keeping Jake alive.”
The words stopped me.
Michael’s voice had not risen. If anything, he sounded tired.
“Don’t say that unless you mean it.”
“I mean it.”
He opened the lowest desk drawer and removed a flat black case.
I had never seen it before.
“What is that?”
“The reason I stopped.”
He placed the case on the desk.
Inside were photographs.
Not the picture of Ethan and me.
Different photographs.
Jake walking across his college campus.
Jake entering a grocery store.
Jake sitting in the driver’s seat of his first car.
One picture had been taken through a windshield.
Another from across a street.
I picked up the oldest.
On the back, someone had written a date.
April 2009.
“What is this?”
“It arrived in the mail.”
“No note?”
Michael handed me a small card.
My hands went cold before I finished reading.
Some questions cost more than answers are worth.
There was no signature.
I looked at Michael.
“You received this and said nothing?”
“What was I supposed to tell you? That someone was photographing our son because I asked questions about a doctor who treated you?”
“Yes.”
“You were barely functioning.”
“That was not your decision.”
“I know.”
“You keep saying that now.”
“Because I spent years realizing it.”
I returned the photograph.
“How many times did they contact you?”
“Directly? Three.”
My throat tightened.
“The first was after I contacted Dr. Harris.”
“He was alive then?”
“For several years after your hospitalization.”
“You spoke to him?”
“Once.”
“What did he say?”
Michael sat down.
“He told me I was putting you in danger.”
“By asking what happened to me?”
“Yes.”
“And you accepted that?”
“No. I accused him of participating.”
“What did he say?”
“That I didn’t understand what he had prevented.”
The wording bothered me.
“Prevented.”
“That was the word he used.”
“Prevented what?”
“He wouldn’t say.”
I reached for another photograph.
Jake walking beside two students.
“Was Harris threatening you?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Then who was?”
“I never found out.”
“What about Daniel?”
Michael’s jaw tightened.
“I suspected him.”
“Because he had approached me under a false name.”
“Yes.”
“Did you find him?”
“Not at first.”
I waited.
Michael opened the black case again and removed a photograph that had been placed beneath the others.
The man in it was older than the Ethan I remembered.
His hair was shorter. His face had become leaner, harder.
But I recognized him.
My breath left me.
“Where was this taken?”
“Boston. Seven years ago.”
“You found him.”
“A private investigator did.”
I looked at Michael.
“You hired someone?”
“Yes.”
“Who?”
“His name was Leonard Price.”
Was.
“You said was.”
Michael’s face became still.
“He died.”
“How?”
“Car accident.”
“When?”
“Two weeks after he sent that photograph.”
I laid the picture down.
“Was it an accident?”
“The police said it was.”
“You don’t believe them.”
“I don’t know what I believe anymore.”
I looked at Ethan’s older face.
Daniel’s face.
The man I had trusted.
The man who had listened to me describe my marriage.
The man who had convinced me our connection had happened naturally.
“What did Price learn?”
“Not much. Daniel had changed names more than once. He worked for several organizations connected to estate management and medical research.”
“Medical research?”
“Yes.”
“What kind?”
“I couldn’t establish that.”
“Was he married?”
“No record Price could find.”
“Children?”
“None listed.”
I looked toward Lily’s birth certificate.
“Then what is Lily to him?”
“I don’t know.”
Another answer without an answer.
But this time, I believed Michael truly did not know.
My phone remained on the desk.
“Call the police,” I said again.
Michael nodded.
This time he did not argue.
The officer arrived twenty-eight minutes later.
His name was Officer Ramirez.
He listened while I described the sedan and showed him the message.
I did not tell him everything.
Not yet.
I told him there was a young woman connected to old family financial documents and that I had recently begun asking questions about her.
Ramirez read the text.
“Any reason someone would want you to stop?”
“Yes.”
“What reason?”
I looked at Michael.
Then I said, “Possibly money.”
That answer changed the officer’s posture.
“What kind of money?”
“An inheritance.”
“How much?”
“I’m not sure.”
Michael shifted behind me.
Ramirez noticed.
“You two disagree?”
“No,” I said. “We’re still learning what we’re dealing with.”
He asked for copies of the message, Daniel’s photograph, and any information about the vehicle.
Neither Michael nor I had seen the plate.
Ramirez said he would request patrol passes for the neighborhood and advised us not to contact the sender.
Before he left, he said something that stayed with me.
“If you believe a young person may be in danger, don’t wait until you have the whole story.”
After the front door closed, I turned to Michael.
“We find Lily tomorrow.”
“No.”
I almost laughed.
“You still think you can tell me no?”
“You heard Ramirez. We don’t know what danger she’s in.”
“That is precisely why we find her.”
“And bring whoever is watching you straight to her?”
The argument stopped forming in my mouth.
Michael continued.
“We need to know where she is without approaching her.”
“You already know where she is.”
“Not anymore.”
“What?”
“She left school.”
“When?”
“Three months ago.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know.”
“Jake would know.”
Michael’s expression tightened.
I picked up my phone.
“No more secrets involving our son.”
“Susan.”
I dialed.
Jake answered on the fourth ring.
“Mom?”
His voice was thick with sleep.
“Are you all right?”
“I’m fine.”
“It’s after one in the morning.”
“I need to ask you something.”
There was a pause.
“Okay.”
“Do you remember Lily Harris?”
Silence.
Not confusion.
Silence.
My grip on the phone tightened.
“Jake?”
“Yes.”
“When did you last speak to her?”
Another pause.
“Why are you asking?”
I looked at Michael.
His eyes had closed.
“Because I found something tonight.”
“What?”
“Medical records.”
Jake said nothing.
“Jake, when did you last speak to Lily?”
“About six weeks ago.”
“Where is she?”
“I don’t know.”
“That’s not good enough.”
“Mom.”
“I need the truth.”
His voice became sharper.
“You’re asking me for the truth?”
The sentence hit harder than he could have intended.
I deserved it.
But I could not let it end the conversation.
“Yes.”
“Why now?”
“Because someone threatened me tonight.”
The line went completely still.
Then Jake said, “What did they say?”
I repeated the message.
He swore quietly.
“Jake.”
“I need to call you back.”
“No.”
“Mom—”
“Do not hang up.”
“I need to check something.”
“What?”
He did not answer.
“Jake, does Lily know me?”
Another silence.
My heartbeat quickened.
“Does she know who I am?”
“Yes.”
Michael opened his eyes.
“How?”
“I told her.”
“When?”
“Last year.”
“Why?”
“Because she asked.”
I sat down slowly.
“What did she ask?”
“If you were her mother.”
For a moment, the entire house seemed to disappear around me.
Michael stepped forward.
I held up a hand.
“Why would she ask that?”
Jake’s breathing came unevenly through the phone.
“Because she had a DNA test.”
My fingers tightened around the device.
“With whom?”
“She didn’t know at first.”
“What does that mean?”
“She used one of those genealogy services. She was looking for relatives.”
“And?”
“She matched with someone on our side.”
“Who?”
“Me.”
I closed my eyes.
“How close?”
“Close enough that the site identified us as siblings.”
I could hear the refrigerator humming.
Nothing else.
“Jake,” I said carefully, “are you telling me Lily’s DNA says she is your sister?”
“Yes.”
Michael gripped the edge of the desk.
“And you kept that from us?”
“She asked me to.”
“Why?”
“Because she was scared.”
“Of whom?”
“I don’t know.”
“You must know something.”
“She said someone had been lying to her since she was a child.”
“Dr. Harris?”
“No.”
My eyes opened.
“Then who?”
Jake hesitated.
“The woman who raised her.”
“Harris’s wife?”
“Yes.”
“What’s her name?”
“Margaret Harris.”
Michael swore under his breath.
“Where does she live?”
“I don’t know anymore.”
“Jake.”
“I’m telling you the truth.”
“When did Lily disappear?”
“Mom, she didn’t disappear.”
“Then where is she?”
Jake exhaled.
“She contacted me tonight.”
I stood.
“When?”
“Maybe an hour ago.”
“What did she say?”
“She asked if I still had the key.”
“What key?”
“I don’t know.”
“Jake.”
“I really don’t. She mailed it to me months ago and told me never to use it unless she called.”
“Where is it?”
“At my apartment.”
“What does it open?”
“No idea.”
My heartbeat accelerated.
“Go get it.”
“I’m already looking.”
Something sounded behind him.
A drawer.
Then another.
“Jake?”
“Yeah.”
“Lock your door.”
“It is locked.”
I heard him moving.
Then he stopped.
“What?”
“Mom.”
His voice had changed.
“What is it?”
“The box is gone.”
“What box?”
“The one with the key.”
Michael took the phone from my hand.
“Jake, listen to me carefully. Do not leave your apartment.”
“Dad?”
“Call the police. Right now.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Do it.”
A loud sound came through the phone.
Three knocks.
Jake went silent.
Michael and I looked at each other.
“Jake?” I whispered.
Another three knocks.
Then a woman’s voice came faintly through the speaker.
“Jake?”
He sucked in a breath.
“Lily?”
Michael grabbed his keys.
“Don’t open the door.”
But Jake had already moved.
We heard the lock turn.
A second later, Lily’s voice came through clearly.
“Jake, we have to go.”
“Why?”
“Because they found Susan.”
I stopped breathing.
Jake said, “How do you know?”
Lily answered with four words that turned every secret in our house inside out.
“Because Daniel called me.”
Click here to continue reading: PART 6: Lily Arrived at Jake’s Door With a Warning From Daniel, but the Secret She Carried Was More Dangerous Than the Threat
Eighteen Years After My Marriage Went Silent, One Routine Question From My Doctor Made Michael’s Distance Look Completely Different
Part 5 of 43
