Chapter 4 - the photograph behind the blue door)
Ethan arrived before the police finished processing the nursery.
Claire saw him from the staircase.
For a moment, neither of them moved.
Four years had changed him.
His dark hair had begun to gray near the temples. He was thinner. The permanent exhaustion around his eyes looked familiar because Claire saw the same thing whenever she looked in a mirror.
Then Ethan noticed the photograph in the evidence bag.
His face changed.
"What is that?"
Claire descended.
"Someone left it."
"Today?"
"Someone broke in."
He looked toward the nursery.
"While you were here?"
"Yes."
Ethan swore softly.
Officer Brooks stepped between them.
"Mr. Prescott, we need you downstairs until detectives finish."
Ethan ignored him.
"Is that Abby?"
Claire nodded.
His eyes filled immediately.
"Can I see her?"
"Not yet."
"Why?"
"Because she's under protective supervision."
"I'm her father."
"So am I her mother."
"That came out wrong."
Claire looked away.
Most conversations between them ended like this now.
Old wounds entered before either of them could stop them.
Ethan lowered his voice.
"Claire, I don't want to fight."
"Neither do I."
"Then tell me what happened."
She told him.
The sidewalk.
The bracelet.
Dale Mercer.
The hospital.
DNA.
The words Abigail whispered.
Mommy Natalie.
Ethan's expression became still.
"What?"
"She said Natalie's name."
"You told the police?"
"Of course."
"And Natalie knows Abby was found?"
"Dad told her something."
Ethan walked to the window.
Claire watched him.
"What aren't you saying?"
He shook his head.
"Ethan."
He turned.
"Four years ago, I told Detective Ortiz something I never told you."
Claire stared at him.
"What?"
"The morning Abby disappeared, Natalie called me."
"What time?"
"About eleven-fifty."
"She arrived here around noon."
"I know."
"What did she want?"
"She wanted to know whether you were home."
Claire's stomach tightened.
"Why?"
"She said she wanted to surprise you."
"That sounds normal."
"It did then."
"And later?"
Ethan rubbed his face.
"After Abby disappeared, I remembered something else. Natalie asked whether Naomi was working."
Claire stared at him.
"Why would she ask that?"
"I don't know."
"And you didn't tell me?"
"I told Ortiz."
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"Because by then you already thought I had something to do with it."
"I never said that."
"You didn't have to."
The words landed heavily.
Claire looked away.
Ethan continued.
"I was trying to prove I wasn't responsible. Accusing your sister would have made me look desperate."
Claire's voice became cold.
"So you let me spend four years not knowing."
"I didn't know it mattered."
"Everything mattered."
"I know that now."
A detective entered the room.
Ortiz.
She looked at Ethan.
"You're here."
"My daughter is alive."
"We have not completed confirmation."
"Stop saying that like it changes what everyone in this house already knows."
Ortiz did not argue.
She placed a folder on the table.
"We found something."
Claire stepped closer.
"Dale Mercer's motel room contained receipts, clothing and several documents. One receipt came from a storage facility in Newark."
"Did you search it?"
"We obtained an emergency warrant."
"And?"
Ortiz opened the folder.
"There were boxes containing belongings associated with the child."
Claire saw photographs.
Tiny shoes.
Old dresses.
A child's drawings.
A broken music box.
Then Ortiz placed another image on the table.
The white stuffed fox.
Claire stopped.
"That's Abigail's."
"It was found in Mercer's storage unit."
Claire looked toward the stairs.
"The person who broke in stole the fox."
"No."
Ortiz pointed to the photograph.
"This evidence photo was taken forty minutes before the break-in here."
Claire stared.
The fox in Dale's unit could not have been taken from the nursery that morning.
Unless there were two.
Ethan spoke first.
"We only had one."
Claire nodded.
Ortiz opened an evidence bag.
Inside was another white fox.
The one recovered from the storage unit.
The stitching around the right ear was torn.
Claire touched the plastic.
"I repaired that."
"Then what was in the nursery?"
Claire looked upstairs.
For four years she had believed Abigail's favorite toy remained beneath the crib.
She had seen it hundreds of times.
But she had almost never touched it.
Ortiz understood.
"Someone replaced it."
"When?"
"We don't know."
"Why?"
Ortiz looked at the photograph of Abigail standing beside the blue door.
"Maybe because the original contained something."
Claire remembered the toy.
Her mother had given it to Abigail.
It played music when the belly was pressed.
After the kidnapping, Claire had stopped pressing it because the sound hurt too much.
Ethan leaned closer.
"Does the recovered fox still play?"
Ortiz nodded toward an officer.
He pressed the toy through the evidence bag.
A soft melody played.
Claire froze.
It was her mother's lullaby.
The same melody Abigail had hummed.
The music stopped.
Then a faint click sounded from inside the toy.
Ortiz frowned.
The evidence technician carefully opened an old repair seam.
His fingers found something hard beneath the stuffing.
A small plastic object emerged.
A memory card.
Everyone stared at it.
Ethan whispered, "How long has that been there?"
Claire shook her head.
Ortiz took custody of the card.
An hour later, technicians recovered four video files.
Three were corrupted.
The fourth played.
The image shook as though the camera had been hidden inside the toy.
A nursery appeared.
Abigail's nursery.
The timestamp showed the day she disappeared.
12:16 p.m.
The camera faced the crib.
Baby Abigail was asleep.
A woman entered.
Blonde hair.
Dark green coat.
She leaned over the crib.
Claire gripped the edge of the table.
Natalie owned a dark green coat.
The woman lifted Abigail.
Her face turned toward the hidden camera.
Claire gasped.
It was not Natalie.
It was Naomi Bell.
Their former housekeeper.
Naomi carried Abigail toward the door.
Before leaving, she stopped.
Someone appeared behind her.
Only an arm was visible.
A man's arm in a charcoal suit.
Naomi looked frightened.
A voice spoke from outside the camera's view.
"Take her through the service door. Natalie is waiting."
The recording ended.
Claire stared at the black screen.
Ethan looked at Ortiz.
"Who was the man?"
"We don't know."
Claire did.
Or at least she knew something everyone else had forgotten.
Four years ago, there had been one man in the family who wore charcoal suits almost every day.
May you like
Natalie's husband.
Graham Kane.
