Chapter 2 - The Name She Whispered)
The hospital pediatric unit placed Abigail in a private room.
Noah refused to leave.
Mark sat between the children while a social worker spoke quietly with doctors in the hallway.
Abigail ate slowly.
Tiny bites of toast.
A few spoonfuls of applesauce.
Every time someone entered the room, she stopped chewing.
Mark noticed everything.
The way she flinched at sudden movement.
The way she watched doors.
The way she kept one hand closed around Jenna's silver locket.
But she did not seem afraid of him.
That disturbed Mark almost as much as everything else.
He looked exactly like Michael.
Same height.
Same eyes.
Same dark hair.
Even their voices had once been similar enough that their mother could confuse them over the phone.
The only obvious difference had been a thin scar beneath Michael's left eyebrow.
Abigail was young.
Perhaps seeing Mark truly did feel like seeing a ghost.
Noah slid another cracker toward her.
“You can have mine.”
Abigail studied him.
“Are you my brother?”
Noah looked at Mark.
Mark's chest tightened.
“No,” he said gently. “Noah is your cousin.”
She frowned.
“What's cousin?”
Mark almost smiled.
The expression vanished quickly.
“It means his dad and your dad were brothers.”
“Twins,” Noah added.
Abigail stared at Mark again.
“My daddy had your face.”
“Yes.”
“Where is he?”
The question hit Mark like a physical blow.
He had no idea what this child had been told.
A social worker named Evelyn Price entered.
“Mr. Bennett, may I speak with you privately?”
Mark looked at Abigail.
She immediately grabbed his sleeve.
“No.”
Evelyn crouched.
“He'll only be right outside.”
“No.”
Mark stayed.
Evelyn adjusted.
“We can speak here.”
She opened a notebook.
“Abigail, do you remember the woman who brought you to Mark's house?”
Abigail's face changed.
She looked toward the window.
Mark knew the answer before she gave it.
“Lauren.”
Noah stared down at his shoes.
Evelyn continued carefully.
“How long were you at the house?”
“Three sleeps.”
Mark thought of Noah sneaking bread through the vent.
His stomach twisted.
“Where were you before that?”
Abigail rubbed the edge of the locket with her thumb.
“With Uncle Vic.”
Mark leaned forward.
“Victor Hale?”
She nodded.
“Where?”
“A house with red stairs.”
“Was anyone else there?”
Abigail thought.
“Miss Dana.”
“Who is Dana?”
“She brought food.”
“Did she hurt you?”
Abigail shook her head.
“Uncle Vic said I wasn't allowed outside because bad people thought I was dead.”
Mark felt the room tilt.
Evelyn maintained a calm voice.
“Did he ever tell you why people thought that?”
Abigail nodded.
“Because of the fire.”
Noah looked at Mark.
Mark could barely speak.
“What do you remember about the fire?”
Abigail's brow tightened.
“Smoke.”
“You were very little.”
“Mommy carried me.”
Mark's heart stopped.
Evelyn glanced at him.
“Your mother?”
Abigail nodded.
“Mommy said run.”
Mark gripped the edge of the chair.
Jenna.
The official report said Jenna Bennett died inside the upstairs bedroom.
Michael's body had been recovered near the stairs.
The remains identified as Jenna's had been badly damaged.
There had been no recoverable remains conclusively identified as Abigail, but investigators had assumed she died due to evidence found in the nursery.
Mark remembered questioning that conclusion.
Lauren had held his hand at the funeral.
She had told him not to torture himself.
Abigail continued.
“Mommy gave me to Uncle Vic.”
Mark froze.
“Your mother gave you to Victor?”
She nodded.
“She said he was helping.”
“What happened to your mother after that?”
Abigail's eyes filled.
“Uncle Vic said she went to heaven.”
Mark leaned back.
Another possible death.
Another story delivered by Victor Hale.
The door opened.
Officer Ruiz entered with a detective Mark had never met.
“Mr. Bennett, this is Detective Sarah Coleman.”
The detective was in her forties, sharp-eyed and quiet.
“We need to talk about your wife.”
Mark looked toward Noah.
Coleman understood.
“Maybe outside.”
This time Abigail allowed Mark to leave after he promised the door would remain open.
In the hallway, Coleman lowered her voice.
“Lauren isn't talking.”
“What about Victor Hale?”
“We're looking.”
“Who is he?”
“You tell me.”
“I've never heard the name.”
Coleman studied him.
“What did your brother do for a living?”
“Michael owned a renovation company with me. Bennett Residential.”
“Who handled your books?”
Mark's skin went cold.
“Lauren.”
Coleman nodded.
“She wasn't your wife then?”
“No. She was our controller.”
“When did you begin dating?”
“About eight months after the fire.”
Coleman exchanged a glance with Ruiz.
Mark hated that glance.
“What?”
Coleman opened a thin evidence bag.
Inside was a folded photograph.
“We found this taped under the blanket inside the wall.”
The photograph showed Michael.
Jenna.
And a toddler-aged Abigail.
They were standing beside a lake.
Michael had one arm around Jenna.
All three were smiling.
Mark had never seen the photograph.
Someone had written something on the back.
Coleman turned the bag over.
Three words were written in black ink.
Ask Mark everything.
Mark stared at the handwriting.
He recognized it immediately.
Michael's handwriting.
He looked up.
“That isn't possible.”
“Why?”
“My brother died four years ago.”
Coleman held Mark's gaze.
“The ink on this photograph was manufactured less than two years ago.”
Mark's knees weakened.
“You're saying the photograph was written on after the fire?”
“We're saying someone wanted you to believe your brother might have survived.”
Mark stared through the open hospital room door at Abigail.
The child was talking quietly to Noah.
Then she reached beneath her pajama collar and opened Jenna's locket.
Mark had assumed it contained a family photograph.
It did not.
Inside was a tiny folded piece of paper.
Abigail carefully removed it.
“Uncle Mark?”
Mark stepped back into the room.
“What is it?”
She handed him the paper.
Written on it were nine numbers.
May you like
Beneath them was one sentence.
If she finds you, do not trust Lauren.
