Chapter 7 - THE GIRL WITH EMMA’S EYES
Emma’s first instinct was disbelief.
Her second was anger.
Not because the laboratory might be wrong.
Because somewhere inside her, the possibility felt familiar.
There had always been strange fragments in her childhood.
A lullaby Richard refused to explain.
A second baby bracelet she once found in an old jewelry box.
A photograph with half the image torn away.
Vivian’s reaction when Emma asked why her mother had kept two identical stuffed rabbits in storage.
“Parents buy duplicates,” Vivian had said.
Then she threw both rabbits away.
At the time, Emma was eight.
Now she understood why.
Detective Morales ordered a full genetic comparison.
Results would take time.
Meanwhile, prosecutors charged Vivian with aggravated assault, conspiracy, evidence tampering, unlawful administration of a controlled substance, and attempted financial exploitation.
Richard received similar charges but continued negotiating cooperation.
Peter Carter remained in custody.
Daniel’s status was less clear.
Emma asked to see him.
Morales resisted.
Emma insisted.
The interview took place in a secure conference room inside the hospital.
Daniel entered wearing county-issued gray clothes.
His wrists were cuffed.
He looked nothing like the cousin Emma remembered.
His face was pale.
“Em.”
She flinched at the nickname.
Only family used it.
“What did you take from Dad’s study?”
Daniel looked at Morales.
Then at Emma.
“Nothing.”
“Don’t lie to me.”
“I’m not.”
“You were there.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Daniel hesitated.
Emma leaned forward.
“You once told me to get away from this family.”
He looked down.
“Because I knew they were dangerous.”
“How much did you know?”
“Not enough.”
“Try me.”
Daniel closed his eyes.
“When I was fifteen, I heard my father arguing with Vivian. They were in the garage.”
“What about?”
“Laura.”
Emma’s breath caught.
“They said she had escaped.”
“Escaped from where?”
“I didn’t know.”
“And you never told me?”
“You were six.”
“I grew up.”
“So did the danger.”
Emma stared at him.
Daniel continued.
“My father caught me listening. He told me Laura had been mentally unstable and that talking about her would upset you.”
“You believed him?”
“For a while.”
“What changed?”
“I saw her.”
Emma froze.
“When?”
Daniel swallowed.
“About two years later.”
“You saw my mother?”
“I think so.”
“Where?”
“At the house.”
The room went silent.
Emma whispered, “She came home?”
“No.”
Daniel’s face tightened.
“She was in the basement.”
Emma felt nauseated.
“I opened the hidden passage by accident. I saw a woman through the door window.”
“You knew she was there?”
“I didn’t know who she was. She was thin. Her hair was short. She looked sick.”
Emma’s eyes filled.
Daniel continued.
“She saw me.”
“What did she do?”
“She put her hand against the glass.”
Emma’s throat closed.
“She said something.”
“What?”
“I couldn’t hear.”
Daniel struggled with the memory.
“Then Vivian came down.”
Emma stared.
“She slapped me so hard my ear bled. She told me if I ever opened that door again, my mother would be next.”
Morales’s expression hardened.
Daniel looked at Emma.
“I was seventeen. I was scared.”
Emma wanted to hate him.
But she remembered being seventeen in Vivian’s house.
Fear had shaped every hallway.
“What happened to the woman?”
“A few weeks later, the room was empty.”
Emma whispered, “Why didn’t you tell the police?”
“My father said she had been transferred to treatment.”
“Did you believe him?”
“No.”
“Then why?”
Daniel looked ashamed.
“Because our family makes silence feel like survival.”
Emma sat back.
For the first time, she understood the system.
Vivian may have been the loudest.
But silence had been the family’s real weapon.
Richard’s silence.
Peter’s silence.
Daniel’s silence.
Relatives who saw too much and looked away.
Employees who signed documents.
Doctors who accepted payments.
Everyone had contributed.
Emma asked, “What was on the paper from Dad’s study?”
Daniel shook his head.
“I didn’t take it.”
“Who did?”
“I saw Officer Dale standing near the desk.”
Morales leaned forward.
“He says you were alone.”
Daniel laughed bitterly.
“Then he’s lying.”
Morales’s phone vibrated.
She looked down.
Her eyes widened slightly.
Emma noticed.
“What?”
Morales did not answer immediately.
“Detective.”
Morales turned the phone around.
A photograph had arrived from the genetic lab.
Not a lab photograph.
A driver’s license image.
A woman.
Twenty-two years old.
Dark brown hair.
Gray-blue eyes.
Emma’s eyes.
The resemblance was unmistakable.
Emma reached toward the screen.
“Who is she?”
Morales read the name.
“Anna Lawson.”
Emma’s fingers trembled.
“Where does she live?”
May you like
Morales’s expression became grim.
“She disappeared six days ago.”
