Chapter 8 - The Mother Who Had Lied for Thirty-Two Years
Emily called Rachel Harlow at 4:12 p.m.
Her mother answered on the second ring.
"Merry Christmas Eve, sweetheart."
Emily nearly broke.
Rachel's familiar voice felt like home.
Which made the question impossible.
"Mom."
Something in Emily's voice changed Rachel immediately.
"What's wrong?"
"Oliver is in the hospital."
Rachel gasped.
"What happened?"
"He's okay now."
"What happened?"
Emily closed her eyes.
"Nathan and Helen left him outside a restaurant."
"What?"
"It's complicated."
"Where are you?"
"St. Joseph's."
"I'm coming."
"Mom, wait."
Emily gripped the phone.
"I need to ask you something first."
A pause.
"Anything."
Emily looked at the photograph.
"Was I born in Vermont?"
Silence.
Not confusion.
Not immediate denial.
Silence.
Emily's blood ran cold.
"Mom?"
Rachel whispered, "Who told you?"
Emily sat down.
All hope disappeared.
"So it's true."
"Emily..."
"You lied to me."
"No."
"What do you call it?"
"I raised you."
"That's not what I asked."
Rachel began crying.
"Your father and I loved you from the second we saw you."
Emily closed her eyes.
"Who was Rebecca Lane?"
Her mother stopped breathing.
Emily heard it.
"Mom."
"Don't say that name."
"Why?"
"Because that name is dangerous."
"She's me."
"No."
"The records say she is."
"Those records should have been destroyed."
Emily stood.
"How do you know?"
Rachel said nothing.
"How do you know those records existed?"
"Emily, listen to me."
"No. You listen. My son nearly died tonight because Helen Moore was trying to hide something connected to those records."
Rachel gasped.
"Helen?"
"Yes."
Another silence.
Then Rachel whispered a sentence Emily never expected.
"She was supposed to be dead."
Emily froze.
"Who?"
"Helen Moore."
"What are you talking about?"
Rachel began breathing rapidly.
"Where is Oliver?"
"Hospital."
"Is Nathan there?"
"Yes."
"Get away from him."
"Why?"
"Take Oliver. Leave."
Emily almost laughed.
Nathan had told her the exact same thing.
"Mom, what is happening?"
"I can't tell you on the phone."
"Why?"
"Because they listen."
"Who?"
Rachel did not answer.
"Mom."
"I'll come to you."
"No. Tell me who."
The line went dead.
Emily stared at her phone.
She called again.
No answer.
Again.
Nothing.
Officer Reyes approached.
"Everything okay?"
"No."
She told him what Rachel had said.
His expression hardened.
"We need officers at her house."
Emily gave him the address.
Within minutes, police were sent.
Nathan watched from the doorway.
"What happened?"
"My mother knew Helen."
His face changed.
"How?"
"I don't know."
Thirty minutes passed.
Then forty.
Oliver woke.
His color had improved enough that Dr. Bennett discussed moving him out of emergency observation.
Emily sat beside him trying not to stare at the clock.
At 5:03 p.m., Reyes received the call.
He walked away while listening.
Emily knew immediately something was wrong.
"Tell me."
Reyes returned.
"Your mother's house is empty."
Emily stood.
"What?"
"No sign of forced entry."
"Her car?"
"Gone."
"Phone?"
"Found in the kitchen."
Emily's heart pounded.
"She wouldn't leave without telling me."
"We're checking traffic cameras."
Nathan whispered, "They got to her."
Emily turned on him.
"Who?"
"I don't know."
"Stop saying that."
He flinched.
Oliver watched them.
Emily lowered her voice.
She refused to frighten him more.
Officer Han entered carrying a laptop.
"We found something in Helen's cloud account."
Nathan stared.
"She had a cloud account?"
"Hidden email backup."
Reyes moved beside her.
"What?"
Han turned the screen.
An email.
Sent six days earlier.
From an address consisting of random numbers.
Subject line:
THE REASSIGNMENT CHILD HAS A CHILD.
Emily's skin prickled.
Han scrolled.
The message contained only three sentences.
You failed to contain Emily Harlow.
The boy has begun remembering Richard's room.
Christmas Eve is your final opportunity.
Nathan stepped backward.
Emily read the words again.
The boy has begun remembering.
Oliver was three when he saw the hidden panel.
Three years later, someone believed he was remembering.
But how would they know?
She looked toward her son.
He was drawing with crayons a nurse had given him.
A house.
A tree.
Three people.
And behind the house, something red.
Emily approached slowly.
"What are you drawing?"
Oliver smiled faintly.
"Grandpa's secret place."
Nathan stopped breathing.
Emily sat beside him.
"Which Grandpa?"
Oliver pointed toward the red rectangle.
"Grandpa Richard."
"But Grandpa Richard died when you were a baby."
Oliver shook his head.
"No."
Emily's heart began hammering.
May you like
Oliver looked at her as though she was the one confused.
"I saw him last summer."
