Chapter Six — The Woman in the Photograph
I stared at the photograph until my eyes hurt.
The woman standing behind Emily looked exactly like my mother.
Same face.
Same dark hair.
Same silver necklace.
Same posture.
But Veronica was shaking her head.
"That's not her."
I looked at my wife.
"You're sure?"
"Yes."
"How?"
"Because my mother had a scar on her left wrist."
She pointed at the photograph.
"The woman doesn't."
My father took the phone from my hand.
He studied the image.
Then his expression changed.
"She's right."
"Who is she?"
He zoomed in.
"I don't know."
Veronica grabbed his arm.
"Then find out."
My father looked at her.
"I will."
"No."
She shook her head.
"We don't have time."
She looked at me.
"Emily doesn't have time."
I could hear the fear in her voice.
She wasn't thinking about the documents anymore.
The vault didn't matter.
The secrets didn't matter.
Only her daughter mattered.
I reached for her hand.
"We'll get her back."
Her fingers closed around mine.
"You promise?"
"I promise."
She nodded.
My father looked at us.
"There is one problem."
"What?"
"The vault key."
I looked down at Veronica's necklace.
"We need both."
"Yes."
"Where is mine?"
He stared at me.
"Your mother had it."
I frowned.
"Then we find her."
My father shook his head.
"She disappeared."
I looked toward the staircase.
"No."
I pulled out my phone.
I called my mother.
No answer.
Again.
Nothing.
Then a message appeared.
Don't look for me.
I showed my father.
His face hardened.
"She's being watched."
"By Adrian?"
"Possibly."
Veronica looked at the clock.
"Ten hours."
I turned toward my father.
"Where's the vault?"
He hesitated.
"You won't like the answer."
"I don't care."
"It's beneath the old house."
I stared at him.
"The house where I grew up?"
He nodded.
"But it's been abandoned for years."
"Exactly."
Veronica looked between us.
"Then let's go."
My father shook his head.
"You're staying here."
She immediately objected.
"No."
"It's dangerous."
"My daughter is being held by a man who already knows where we live. I'm not sitting here."
My father looked at me.
I knew what he wanted me to say.
But I looked at Veronica.
She was frightened.
Yet determined.
"We go together."
My father sighed.
"Fine."
We left through the back entrance.
The drive to my childhood home felt surreal.
I hadn't been there in years.
The house stood behind a rusted gate, hidden beneath overgrown trees.
I stared through the windshield.
Memories came rushing back.
My bedroom.
My mother's kitchen.
My father's study.
The night everything supposedly ended.
Veronica reached for my hand.
I looked at her.
She gave me a small smile.
"I'm here."
I squeezed her fingers.
"Stay close."
We entered the house.
Dust covered everything.
My father led us down the hallway.
I stopped outside my old bedroom.
The door was still there.
I touched the handle.
For some reason, I couldn't open it.
Veronica stood beside me.
"What's wrong?"
"I don't know."
I opened the door.
The room was exactly as I remembered.
A small bed.
A wooden desk.
An old bookshelf.
And a faded drawing taped to the wall.
I stepped closer.
It was a picture I'd drawn as a child.
Three people.
A man.
A woman.
And a little boy.
I stared at the drawing.
There was another figure beside them.
A little girl.
I frowned.
"Why did I draw her?"
My father became completely still.
"What?"
I pointed.
"Her."
He walked over.
His face changed.
"Stanley..."
"What?"
He touched the drawing.
"Where did you see this girl?"
"I don't remember."
Veronica stepped closer.
She looked at the drawing.
Then gasped.
"That's me."
I looked at her.
"What?"
She pointed at the little girl.
"That's me."
My father nodded.
"You were together that night."
I stared at the drawing.
Suddenly, a memory flashed through my mind.
A little girl's hand.
Small fingers wrapped around mine.
A voice whispering:
"Don't be scared."
I staggered backward.
Veronica caught me.
"Stanley?"
"I remember."
"What?"
"The hallway."
I closed my eyes.
"Smoke."
Another memory.
A woman screaming.
A door.
A man's voice.
And Veronica.
She was holding my hand.
Then I remembered something else.
A necklace.
I opened my eyes.
"The key."
My father looked at me.
"What?"
"I remember seeing it."
"Where?"
"On the little girl."
Veronica touched her necklace.
"This one?"
I nodded.
"Yes."
My father stared at her.
"Then your mother gave it to you that night."
Veronica looked confused.
"Why?"
Before he could answer, something clicked inside the wall.
We all turned.
The bookshelf shifted.
Behind it was a hidden compartment.
My father smiled grimly.
"Your grandfather's work."
Inside was a metal box.
I pulled it out.
There was a keyhole.
Veronica removed her necklace.
The pendant separated into two pieces.
Inside was a tiny key.
She looked at me.
"Do you have yours?"
I searched my pockets.
Nothing.
Then I remembered something.
My hand went to the chain around my neck.
I'd worn it for years.
I had always thought the pendant was decorative.
I removed it.
My father stared.
"That's it."
I opened the pendant.
Another tiny key fell into my palm.
Veronica's eyes widened.
"The two keys."
I placed them together.
They formed a single shape.
I inserted them into the box.
The lock opened.
Inside were documents.
A small flash drive.
And an old photograph.
I picked up the photograph.
My father.
My mother.
Veronica's mother.
And Adrian's father.
They were standing together.
But there was someone else.
A young man.
I stared at him.
My breath caught.
I knew that face.
I had seen it recently.
On Adrian's phone.
It was Adrian's older brother.
"He's dead," my father said.
I looked at him.
"You said he died years ago."
"He did."
"Then why is he here?"
My father took the photograph.
His face became pale.
"Because this was taken after his supposed death."
Silence.
Veronica stepped closer.
"How?"
My father looked at her.
"That's what we need to find out."
Then the flash drive beeped.
We all froze.
A light appeared.
The drive had activated itself.
A video began playing on my phone.
A man appeared.
I recognized him immediately.
Adrian.
He smiled.
"Congratulations, Stanley."
I clenched my jaw.
"You found the vault."
Adrian leaned closer to the camera.
"I knew you would."
Veronica whispered:
"Where is my daughter?"
Adrian ignored her.
"Your father probably told you that he was protecting you."
My father stepped closer to the screen.
"Adrian."
Adrian smiled.
"You've been hiding for twenty-three years."
"Where is Emily?"
"Safe."
Veronica moved toward the screen.
"Let me speak to her."
Adrian smiled.
"You'll see her soon."
"Please."
His expression softened for half a second.
Then disappeared.
"You know, Veronica, I never wanted this."
She stared at him.
"You kidnapped my daughter."
"I protected her."
"From what?"
"From you."
Veronica's face crumpled.
I stepped forward.
"Enough."
Adrian looked at me.
"Stanley."
"You want the keys."
"Yes."
"Then take them."
My father grabbed my arm.
I shook him off.
"I'll trade."
Adrian smiled.
"That's exactly what I wanted to hear."
"Where?"
"The old church."
"What time?"
"One hour."
"How do I know Emily is alive?"
Adrian lifted his phone.
A live video appeared.
Emily was sitting in a room.
Veronica gasped.
"Emily!"
The little girl looked up.
"Mommy?"
Veronica covered her mouth.
Adrian ended the feed.
Then he looked at me.
"Come alone."
"I won't."
"Then she dies."
The screen went black.
Veronica turned to me.
"I'm coming."
I shook my head.
"No."
"She's my daughter."
"It's too dangerous."
"I don't care."
"I do."
She stared at me.
I stepped closer.
"I just found you."
Her eyes softened.
"I know."
"And I'm not losing you."
For a moment, neither of us spoke.
Then she reached up and touched my face.
"You really mean that?"
"Yes."
She leaned closer.
Our foreheads touched.
The fear surrounding us seemed to disappear.
"I don't know what I would do without you," she whispered.
I closed my eyes.
"Don't find out."
She smiled through her tears.
Then she kissed me.
It wasn't desperate.
It wasn't rushed.
It was simply warm and reassuring.
When we separated, she looked into my eyes.
"I trust you."
Those three words affected me more than she could know.
Then my father cleared his throat.
"We have a problem."
We turned.
He was holding the photograph.
"There are only two keys."
I frowned.
"So?"
He pointed toward the document beneath it.
"The vault doesn't contain the evidence."
I looked at the paper.
My blood ran cold.
"It contains the location of the evidence."
"Where?"
My father looked at me.
"The document says the evidence was moved."
"To where?"
He hesitated.
"To someone."
"Who?"
He turned the page.
I read the name.
My stomach dropped.
It was Veronica.
She stared at the paper.
"I don't understand."
My father whispered:
"Your mother didn't hide the evidence."
He looked at me.
"She hid it inside Veronica."
Veronica's face went pale.
"What does that mean?"
Before anyone could answer, the old house phone rang.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
My father picked it up.
He listened.
Then his face turned white.
He slowly handed me the receiver.
I pressed it to my ear.
A woman's voice whispered:
"Stanley..."
I recognized it.
My mother's voice.
"Don't take Veronica to the church."
I frowned.
"Why?"
Her voice trembled.
"Because Adrian isn't waiting for the keys."
"What is he waiting for?"
A long silence.
Then she whispered:
"He's waiting for Veronica to remember."
The line went dead.
I looked at my wife.
She was staring at me.
"Remember what?"
I didn't have an answer.
Then Veronica suddenly grabbed her head.
She gasped.
I rushed to her.
"Veronica?"
Her eyes widened.
"I remember."
"What?"
She looked at me in terror.
"The night you almost died."
Her voice shook.
"I remember who started the fire."
I held her shoulders.
"Who?"
She looked past me.
At my father.
Then she whispered:
"It was your mother."
