Chapter 5 - The Question Adrian Never ExpectedEmma agreed to meet Adrian in a public place.
They chose a coffee shop near Boston Common.
She arrived early and kept the red backpack beside her feet.
Adrian entered alone.
Without the expensive suit and executives around him, he looked older.
Tired.
Human.
Emma placed the photograph on the table.
Adrian saw Julianne and stopped.
His fingertips touched the edge of the photograph.
“That's her.”
“You're certain?”
“I was married to her.”
His voice broke.
Emma turned the photograph over.
Adrian read the date.
Five weeks after Julianne's supposed death.
He sat down slowly.
Emma placed the hospital bracelet beside it.
Adrian read the name.
J. MERCER.
Baby girl.
April 2, 2002.
His eyes lifted to Emma.
“When were you born?”
Emma did not answer immediately.
Then:
“April second.”
Adrian stared at her.
She hated the hope appearing in his expression.
“Don't,” she said.
“Don't what?”
“Don't decide I'm your daughter because you're grieving.”
Adrian swallowed.
“You have her eyes.”
“That proves nothing.”
“I know.”
“You didn't know I existed yesterday.”
“I know.”
Emma took a breath.
“There is one way to answer it.”
DNA.
The word remained unspoken between them.
Adrian nodded.
“No lawyers. No company doctors. You choose the laboratory.”
Emma agreed.
Before leaving, Adrian looked again at Julianne's photograph.
“Why wouldn't she come home?”
Emma had wondered the same thing.
Then she remembered something from the tape.
Someone found me first.
“I don't think she believed home was safe.”
Adrian's face changed.
“Because of me?”
“I don't know.”
He looked toward the window.
Then quietly said:
“Someone made my wife disappear. Someone let me bury another woman. And whoever did it knew enough to convince Julianne she couldn't come back.”
Emma stood.
She slid the ring onto her finger.
Adrian watched it.
This time he didn't ask her to remove it.
He only said:
“When the test comes back, whatever it says, I want the truth.”
Emma looked at him.
“So do I.”
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Neither of them noticed the black sedan parked across the street.
Or the man inside photographing them.
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