Chapter 2 - The Woman in the Photograph
Emily did not sleep.
She sat on the edge of the bed until dawn, holding the photograph beneath the light from her phone.
The pregnant woman looked no older than twenty-five.
She had dark wavy hair, a narrow face, and a small crescent-shaped birthmark above her left eyebrow.
Emily had seen that birthmark before.
Ethan had the same mark.
It was faint and partly hidden by his hair, but it was there.
She turned the photograph over again.
Ask Margaret what happened to Anna.
The handwriting slanted sharply to the right.
It did not belong to Margaret.
It did not belong to Ethan.
At six thirty, Ethan woke and found Emily still dressed in yesterday’s clothes.
“Are you okay?”
She quickly slipped the photograph beneath the blanket.
“I couldn’t sleep.”
He sat beside her.
“You’ve been distant lately.”
Emily almost laughed.
“You mean since your mother moved into our house and started telling our son I’m mentally ill?”
Ethan rubbed his face.
“She denies saying that.”
“Noah repeated her exact words.”
“He could have misunderstood.”
“He is five, Ethan. He didn’t invent the phrase sick in your head.”
Ethan stood and walked toward the closet.
“I’ll talk to her.”
“You always talk to her.”
“What do you want me to do?”
“I want you to believe me before you believe her.”
He turned.
“I do believe you.”
“No. You believe that I believe what I’m saying.”
“That’s not fair.”
“Neither is living in a house where every conversation might be recorded.”
The words slipped out.
Ethan stared at her.
“What?”
Emily hesitated.
If she told him about the recorder, he might confront Margaret immediately. If Margaret had hidden it, she would destroy whatever else she was keeping.
“I thought I heard something last night,” Emily said.
“What kind of something?”
“A clicking sound.”
He watched her carefully.
“Emily, have you been sleeping?”
She felt the accusation before he finished the question.
Margaret’s influence had reached him more deeply than she realized.
“I know what I heard.”
“I didn’t say you didn’t.”
“You were about to.”
Noah knocked on the bedroom door before Ethan could respond.
“Mommy?”
Emily stood and opened it.
Noah held a stuffed elephant beneath one arm.
“Grandma says I can’t go to school.”
Ethan frowned.
“Why?”
“She says Mommy forgot it’s a holiday.”
“It isn’t a holiday,” Emily said.
Margaret appeared in the hallway wearing a pale gray robe.
“I received a message from the school.”
Emily took out her phone.
“There is no message.”
“Perhaps they contacted the responsible adult.”
Ethan’s face tightened.
“Mom.”
Margaret gave him a wounded look.
“What? I was only trying to help.”
Emily crouched beside Noah.
“Get dressed. I’ll take you.”
Margaret watched them walk away.
At the school, Emily asked the receptionist whether anyone had called the house.
“No,” the woman said. “We’re open all week.”
“Has anyone changed Noah’s emergency contact information?”
The receptionist checked the computer.
“Yes. Yesterday.”
Emily’s pulse quickened.
“Who changed it?”
“It was submitted through the parent portal.”
“Changed to whom?”
The receptionist turned the monitor.
Margaret Hale was now listed as Noah’s primary emergency contact.
Emily had been moved to third.
Below Margaret’s name, a note had been added.
Mother currently undergoing psychiatric evaluation. Contact grandmother first.
Emily gripped the counter.
“I did not write that.”
The receptionist’s expression changed.
“I’m sorry. We’ll remove it immediately.”
“Can you tell me which account made the change?”
“It came from your husband’s login.”
Emily called Ethan from the parking lot.
He answered on the third ring.
“Did you change Noah’s school contacts?”
“No.”
“Someone used your account.”
There was a pause.
“My mother has my password. She helped me download a school form last month.”
Emily closed her eyes.
“Ethan, she wrote that I’m undergoing psychiatric evaluation.”
“What?”
“She is creating a record.”
“For what?”
Emily looked through the windshield at the school entrance.
A woman stood across the street.
She wore a red raincoat and held a black umbrella.
Though the distance obscured her features, Emily had the unsettling feeling that the woman was watching her.
“For taking Noah,” Emily said.
“Emily, slow down.”
“I found a recording device in your study.”
Silence.
“And a photograph of your mother with a pregnant woman named Anna.”
The line remained quiet for several seconds.
Then Ethan said, “Do not ask my mother about Anna.”
Emily’s stomach dropped.
“You know who she is.”
“I know the name.”
“Who was she?”
“I don’t know.”
“Ethan.”
“My mother told me never to mention it.”
“Why?”
“She said Anna tried to destroy our family.”
Before Emily could ask anything else, a car horn blared.
She looked up.
The woman in the red raincoat was crossing the street toward her.
“Emily,” Ethan said urgently. “Where are you?”
“At Noah’s school.”
“Go inside. Now.”
“Why?”
“Because I think the woman in the photograph may still be alive.”
The stranger stopped ten feet from Emily’s car.
She lifted one hand.
In it was a photograph of Noah.
Emily locked the doors.
The woman walked to the driver’s side window and held up a folded note.
Emily lowered the glass less than an inch.
“Who are you?”
“My name is Claire.”
“What do you want?”
“To keep your son alive.”
Emily’s breath caught.
Claire pushed the note through the gap.
“Margaret knows you found the photograph.”
“How?”
“She knows everything that happens in your house.”
Claire glanced toward the road.
“You have cameras inside your walls.”
Emily stared at her.
“Why should I believe you?”
“Because Margaret did the same thing to Anna.”
“Who is Anna?”
Claire’s eyes filled with sadness.
“She was Ethan’s mother.”
A black sedan turned the corner.
Claire stepped away immediately.
“Do not go home,” she warned.
The sedan accelerated.
Claire ran across the street and disappeared between two buildings.
Emily unfolded the note.
There was no message.
Only an address.
And beneath it, a time.
May you like
8:00 p.m.
Come alone.
