Chapter 7 - The Grave)
Margaret demanded the grave be opened.
Her attorneys told her not to expect immediate approval.
She made three calls.
By the following afternoon, a judge authorized an examination because of potential fraud involving death records.
Emily did not attend.
She could not.
Instead she waited at Margaret's townhouse with Michael.
It was the first time she entered the Ashford home.
Portraits lined the hallway.
Thomas in expensive suits.
Margaret at charity galas.
Family photographs from decades of marriage.
No children.
Emily stopped in front of one photograph.
Margaret was perhaps thirty.
She stood beside a Christmas tree smiling at the camera.
The smile looked convincing until Emily noticed her hand.
Margaret held the silver pendant.
Even then.
Even eight years after the fire.
She had never stopped carrying it.
Emily looked away.
Michael sat in the library.
"You don't have to forgive her."
Emily frowned.
"Forgive her for what?"
"For not knowing."
"That's not her fault."
"No."
Michael looked toward the photographs.
"But grief creates irrational guilt."
Emily sat opposite him.
"Did you know she was searching?"
"For a while."
"And you never contacted her."
Michael swallowed.
"I contacted Thomas."
Emily stared.
"When?"
"Six months after the fire."
Her expression hardened.
Michael continued.
"I had begun noticing inconsistencies. Evelyn and I compared what we remembered. I went to Thomas's office."
"What did he say?"
"He denied everything."
"Then?"
"He showed me photographs of my wife entering a rehabilitation clinic."
Emily frowned.
Michael looked ashamed.
"She had struggled with addiction. No one knew."
"Thomas threatened to expose her."
"Yes."
Emily stared at him.
"So everyone was afraid of Thomas."
"Yes."
"And I paid for it."
Michael closed his eyes.
"Yes."
The direct answer softened something in Emily despite herself.
He was not asking for forgiveness.
He was admitting what he had done.
Or failed to do.
Michael said, "Three years later my wife died. By then Evelyn had started investigating privately. I helped when I could."
"You still didn't tell Margaret."
"Evelyn believed Thomas was monitoring her."
"He probably was."
"Yes."
Michael looked at Emily.
"Then Evelyn found your name."
Emily sat forward.
"My name?"
"Emily Carter."
"When?"
"Sixteen years ago."
Emily's heart jumped.
"You knew who I was sixteen years ago?"
"No."
Michael immediately opened the notebook.
"She wrote Carter file, but there were hundreds of Carter families. She never found an address."
Emily remembered the line.
Blue house. Westbridge. Carter file.
Evelyn had gotten close.
Very close.
The front door opened.
Margaret entered with her attorney.
Emily stood.
Margaret's face answered before she spoke.
"The coffin was empty."
Emily exhaled.
Margaret removed her coat slowly.
"For twenty two years I brought flowers to an empty box."
Michael looked down.
Margaret did not cry.
She seemed beyond tears.
Her attorney, Laura Benton, placed a folder on the table.
"The empty coffin changes the legal situation significantly."
Emily asked, "How?"
"Fraudulent burial records. False death certification. Possible kidnapping conspiracy. Financial fraud associated with the trust."
Margaret looked toward the hallway.
"And Thomas?"
"His attorneys are claiming he acted under the direction of his father."
"His father has been dead twelve years."
"Convenient."
Margaret's mouth tightened.
Emily asked about the DNA test.
Laura checked her phone.
"Preliminary result tomorrow morning."
The room fell silent.
Tomorrow.
One day.
After twenty two years.
Margaret looked at Emily.
"You can stay here tonight."
Emily hesitated.
Margaret immediately added, "Or not. I don't want to pressure you."
Emily glanced around the enormous house.
"Where is Thomas?"
"Hotel."
"By choice?"
"By instruction."
Margaret looked toward the staircase.
"I told him if he entered this house again, I would call the police."
Emily nodded.
Later that evening, Margaret showed her a room on the second floor.
Not a bedroom.
A nursery.
Emily stopped in the doorway.
It had been preserved.
Not perfectly.
The curtains had been replaced.
The furniture had been covered to protect it from dust.
But the crib remained.
A wooden rocking horse sat beneath the window.
On a shelf were unopened children's books.
Emily could barely speak.
"You kept this?"
Margaret stood behind her.
"I couldn't remove it."
"For twenty two years?"
"Thomas wanted me to."
Emily turned.
Margaret smiled sadly.
"I told him the room belonged to someone else."
Emily looked around.
"Did you ever think she was alive?"
Margaret answered after a long pause.
"I dreamed it."
Emily's eyes filled.
"In the dreams she was always older. Five. Ten. Sixteen. I never saw her face clearly."
Margaret touched the pendant around her neck.
"But she always wore this."
Emily could not stop the tears.
Margaret did not move toward her.
That restraint mattered.
Emily crossed the room instead.
She hugged Margaret.
For the first time.
Margaret made a broken sound and wrapped her arms around her.
Neither woman said mother.
Neither said daughter.
Not yet.
Emily rested her forehead against Margaret's shoulder.
Then the house alarm sounded.
They separated.
Michael shouted from downstairs.
Laura ran into the hallway.
A security alert appeared on Margaret's phone.
Rear entrance breached.
Emily's pulse jumped.
Michael called up.
"Stay there."
Margaret ignored him.
She and Emily reached the staircase together.
At the bottom stood Thomas.
He had entered through the garden door.
His suit was soaked from rain.
He held no weapon.
Only a file.
Margaret stared.
"Get out."
Thomas looked at Emily.
Then he placed the file on the floor.
"There is something none of you understand."
Emily remained beside Margaret.
Thomas opened the file.
Inside was a photograph of two newborn babies.
May you like
And for the first time, Emily saw the face of the boy whose records had been used to bury her.
Thomas whispered, "He is alive."
