Reyes did not move.
Neither did I.
The house remained dark except for the faint glow from the street outside.
Natalie whispered, “Did you hear that?”
I nodded.
Reyes raised one finger.
Silence.
Then a car engine started somewhere beyond the house.
An officer ran toward the back door.
“Gone.”
Reyes lowered his weapon.
“Get the vehicle description.”
The officer disappeared.
I looked at Reyes.
“Who shouted?”
“We don't know.”
“But they knew your name.”
He didn't answer.
That was answer enough.
We were back at the hospital less than an hour later.
The evidence from my father's house was sealed.
The memory card went directly into police custody.
The photograph stayed in an evidence bag.
But my father's letter remained with me because it contained no physical evidence that could be altered.
I read it again that night.
One sentence troubled me more than all the others.
Do not trust the man who says he saved you.
Who had saved me?
Reyes had found me.
Natalie had contacted him.
But Daniel had also claimed to protect Rebecca.
And Elena had been rescued from the hidden chamber.
Everyone seemed to have a different version of the truth.
I asked Reyes whether he had known my father.
He said no.
I asked whether he had worked with Daniel.
He said only professionally.
Then I asked the question I had avoided.
“Did you know about Marcus before you came to my house?”
Reyes looked at me.
“We had an open investigation.”
“Before Natalie contacted you?”
“Yes.”
“Why didn't anyone tell me?”
“Because we didn't have enough evidence.”
I looked at him.
“And my father?”
“We didn't know his connection.”
I wanted to believe him.
But my father's letter made trust feel dangerous.
The next morning, Rebecca called.
Her voice was weak.
“I heard you're safe.”
I sat beside my daughter's bassinet.
“Yes.”
“I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
“For not getting to you sooner.”
“You knew about me.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because your father asked me to watch you.”
My throat tightened.
“For how long?”
“Until Marcus found out.”
“And then?”
“I disappeared.”
“Why didn't you tell me?”
“Because the first time I tried, Marcus found me.”
I closed my eyes.
Rebecca continued.
“He threatened your father.”
“What did he threaten?”
“Your life.”
I looked at my daughter.
“He said if your father spoke, he'd hurt you.”
“So my father stayed silent.”
“He tried to protect you.”
I began crying.
Rebecca's voice softened.
“He didn't stop fighting.”
“Then why did he die?”
“He got too close.”
The answer was simple.
Too simple.
“What did he find?”
“A ledger.”
I remembered the memory card.
“What kind of ledger?”
“Names.”
“Whose names?”
“Everyone involved.”
“Marcus?”
“Yes.”
“Daniel?”
“Yes.”
“Who else?”
Rebecca paused.
“People you would recognize.”
My stomach tightened.
“Politicians?”
She didn't answer.
“Police?”
“Yes.”
“Business owners?”
“Yes.”
The list seemed endless.
But I knew one thing.
My father's warning had never been about one man.
It had been about a system that protected itself.
“Where is the ledger?”
Rebecca whispered.
“Your father hid it.”
“Where?”
“You already have the key.”
I looked at the small brass key.
“17.”
“Yes.”
“The warehouse.”
“Yes.”
I remembered the photograph.
Marcus and Daniel standing beside the door.
Rebecca continued.
“Don't go there.”
“I need to.”
“No.”
Her voice sharpened.
“That's where they expect you to go.”
I stopped.
“Then where should I go?”
“Somewhere Marcus doesn't know exists.”
I looked at Natalie.
She was watching me.
Rebecca said, “Your mother had a sister.”
I frowned.
“My mother didn't have a sister.”
“She did.”
“No.”
“She changed her name.”
“Why?”
“To protect you.”
The line went silent.
Then Rebecca added:
“Ask Natalie.”
The call ended.
I looked at my sister.
She was crying.
“You knew.”
Natalie shook her head.
“Not about Rebecca.”
“About Mom.”
She nodded.
“Dad told me before he died.”
“Why didn't you tell me?”
“Because Marcus asked about her.”
My hands shook.
“Where is she?”
“I don't know.”
“Then how does Rebecca know?”
Natalie didn't answer.
I realized she was hiding something.
“Tell me.”
She reached into her bag.
This time she removed a small photograph.
It showed my mother standing beside another woman.
The other woman was older.
Dark-haired.
And holding a baby.
Me.
On the back was an address.
I recognized the street.
It was outside the city.
A quiet rural road.
My mother had taken me there when I was little.
I had always believed it was a family friend's house.
Natalie whispered, “That's where Mom sent us when Dad started investigating Marcus.”
I stared at the photograph.
“My mother knew.”
“Yes.”
“Why didn't anyone tell me?”
“Because they were trying to keep you alive.”
The words hurt.
But I understood them.
That didn't make the secrecy easier.
That afternoon, Reyes returned.
I told him about the warehouse.
He immediately said no.
“You're not going there.”
“I wasn't asking permission.”
“You don't understand.”
“I understand enough.”
He lowered his voice.
“The warehouse is under surveillance.”
“By whom?”
He hesitated.
“That's the problem.”
I stared at him.
“Daniel?”
“Possibly.”
“Marcus?”
“Possibly.”
“Someone else?”
“Yes.”
I realized then that Reyes wasn't hiding information from me because he didn't trust me.
He was hiding it because he didn't know who to trust either.
My phone rang.
Unknown number.
Reyes answered.
No one spoke.
Then a distorted voice said:
“Your daughter isn't safe.”
I stood.
“Who is this?”
The voice replied.
“Someone who knows what happened to your father.”
Reyes demanded identification.
The caller ignored him.
“Bring the memory card to warehouse seventeen.”
I looked at the evidence bag.
“Why?”
“Because Marcus wants it.”
I asked, “Where is Marcus?”
The caller laughed.
“You still think he was arrested.”
My heart stopped.
Reyes looked at me.
“What did you say?”
The caller continued.
“Marcus was never the one in custody.”
The line went dead.
Reyes immediately called the station.
I watched his expression change.
“What?”
He listened.
Then said nothing.
When he ended the call, I knew.
“What happened?”
“The man we arrested gave a false name.”
My stomach dropped.
“Then where is Marcus?”
“We don't know.”
Natalie whispered, “He escaped.”
Reyes shook his head.
“No.”
He looked at me.
“He was never there.”
The room became silent.
All the confidence Marcus had shown in the basement suddenly made sense.
He hadn't been surprised by the police.
He had expected them.
Someone else had taken his place.
And the man I had watched being arrested had never been my husband.
Reyes stood.
“We need to move you.”
I shook my head.
“No.”
“You're in danger.”
“I know.”
“Then listen.”
I looked at my daughter.
Then at the memory card.
Then at the photograph of warehouse seventeen.
“We go to my mother's house.”
Reyes frowned.
“Why?”
“Because that's where Marcus won't expect us.”
I held up the photograph.
“And because my mother left something there.”
“What?”
I looked at Natalie.
“A reason for her to disappear.”
Click here to continue reading: PART 8: The house my mother used as a hiding place revealed why she vanished, and the final piece of my father’s evidence placed Marcus closer than ever
Beneath the laughter of a dinner party, I realized my husband had planned one final cruelty for the night I went into labor
Part 7 of 10
