Chapter 4 - THE SECOND HOUSE
We left the house before noon.
Not with suitcases.
Not with clothes.
Just Noah, his diaper bag, my phone, and the documents.
Daniel drove.
I sat in the back seat with Noah.
For the first twenty minutes, neither of us spoke.
Then Daniel said,
“There's something else.”
I laughed bitterly.
“Of course there is.”
“My mother has another house.”
I looked at him.
“Where?”
“About forty minutes away.”
“What is there?”
“I don't know.”
“You've been there?”
“Once.”
“When?”
“When I was a teenager.”
“What did you see?”
“Boxes.”
“Of what?”
“Baby things.”
My stomach dropped.
Daniel gripped the steering wheel.
“My father died when I was nineteen.”
“And your mother?”
“She became obsessed with genealogy.”
“Genealogy?”
“She said our family had a bloodline that had to be protected.”
I stared out the window.
“Protected from what?”
“I thought it was nonsense.”
“Apparently not.”
He nodded.
We arrived at the house around one.
It was old.
White siding.
Overgrown bushes.
No neighbors nearby.
Daniel unlocked the door.
The smell hit me immediately.
Dust.
Old wood.
Something medicinal.
Noah began crying.
I held him tighter.
Daniel walked into the living room.
“Mom?”
Nothing.
We searched the house.
Empty.
But the basement door was locked.
Daniel found the key.
We went down.
The basement contained dozens of boxes.
Medical records.
Photographs.
Hospital bracelets.
Baby blankets.
I stopped breathing.
There were names on the bracelets.
Dates.
Numbers.
Some were from the year I was born.
I picked one up.
EMMA WHITMORE.
My hands went numb.
“Daniel.”
He turned.
I showed him.
He couldn't speak.
Then I found another.
CLAIRE WHITMORE.
Attached to it was a photograph.
Claire holding a newborn.
Me.
I knew immediately.
The baby had the same tiny scar above the eyebrow.
The same birthmark on the shoulder.
It was me.
I sank onto the floor.
Daniel knelt beside me.
“I am so sorry.”
I pulled away.
“Don't.”
“I should have told you.”
“You should have.”
A noise came from upstairs.
We froze.
Footsteps.
Someone was walking through the house.
Daniel stood.
“Stay here.”
“No.”
“Emma.”
“I am not hiding again.”
We climbed the stairs.
The front door was open.
Nobody was visible.
Then a voice came from the hallway.
“You shouldn't have come here.”
Daniel grabbed my arm.
His mother stepped into view.
She was holding a small black case.
I stared at it.
“What is that?”
She smiled.
“Something that belongs to my family.”
“No.”
“It has nothing to do with you.”
“You stole my DNA.”
“I protected my son.”
“You tested my baby.”
“I tested blood.”
“You had no right.”
She looked at Noah.
For the first time, her expression changed.
Not hatred.
Fear.
“You don't understand what that child carries.”
Daniel stepped in front of me.
“Mom.”
She raised the case.
“You need to leave.”
“What is inside?” I asked.
She didn't answer.
I stepped closer.
She backed away.
“Don't.”
“Why are you afraid of me?”
Her face went white.
“You look exactly like her.”
“Like who?”
She whispered,
“Claire.”
Daniel stared at her.
“You knew Claire?”
His mother closed her eyes.
“I knew what happened.”
“What happened to her?”
She looked at me.
“She wasn't supposed to survive.”
My blood ran cold.
“What?”
“She found out too much.”
“Who hurt her?”
She said nothing.
Daniel grabbed her arm.
“Mom!”
She pulled away.
“You have no idea what your father did.”
“You told me Dad was innocent.”
“I lied.”
Silence.
Daniel looked shattered.
His mother continued.
“Your father wasn't working alone.”
“Who was with him?”
She looked at me.
Then at Noah.
And whispered,
“The hospital director.”
A car door slammed outside.
Someone was coming.
His mother looked toward the window.
Fear flashed across her face.
“Run.”
“What?”
“Take the baby and run.”
“Why?”
“Because they found you.”
The basement door behind us suddenly slammed shut.
May you like
And then we heard the sound of a key turning in the lock.
Someone had locked us inside.
