Chapter 5: The Second Room
Dad's house looked exactly as we'd left it.
The porch light was still broken. The brass mailbox still leaned slightly to the left. A row of white chrysanthemums stood beside the front steps, beginning to wilt.
For twenty-five years, that house had been the one place where I felt safe.
Now every window seemed to be hiding something.
Eric unlocked the front door.
Mr. Lawson entered first.
Daniel followed us inside, but I kept my distance.
"Nobody touches anything until we know what we're looking for," the attorney said.
Eric nodded.
"The downstairs study.""
We walked through the kitchen and down the narrow hallway.
Dad's study smelled of old paper, furniture polish, and the peppermint candies he always kept in a glass bowl.
The bookcase stood against the far wall.
Eric moved several books aside and pressed the concealed latch.
A narrow door opened.
The three garment bags were still hanging inside.
The two black suits.
And the red one.
I stared at the empty space where the jacket had been.
"There's nothing else in here," I said.
Eric pointed toward the floor.
"Mom said there's another room beneath the desk.""
Mr. Lawson approached the desk.
"Robert never mentioned a second room to me.""
"Apparently, he didn't tell you everything either," I replied.
The attorney accepted the remark without protest.
Eric knelt and examined the floorboards.
"Here.""
He pointed to a narrow wooden strip beneath the desk.
It looked slightly newer than the surrounding boards.
He pulled at it.
Nothing happened.
Daniel crouched beside him.
"Use the edge of a key.""
Eric glanced at him.
"Why?""
"Because the wood is fitted into a concealed groove. You won't get it out with your fingers.""
Daniel took a small metal key from his pocket and carefully worked it beneath the edge.
The floorboard lifted.
Underneath was a shallow compartment containing a brass key, a photograph, and a small black notebook.
I picked up the photograph.
It showed my mother standing beside a young girl.
The girl looked about ten.
She had dark hair, a white dress, and a tiny silver necklace.
I recognized the necklace.
It had belonged to my mother.
But I didn't recognize the girl.
"Who is this?""
Mr. Lawson took the photograph.
His expression changed.
"Where did you find this?""
"Under the floor.""
He turned it over.
There was a date written on the back.
August 2001.
Three months after my mother supposedly died.
I stared at it.
"That's impossible.""
Eric looked over my shoulder.
"That's Mom.""
"And who's the girl?""
Nobody answered.
I picked up the black notebook.
The first page contained a list of dates and locations. Most were unfamiliar.
Then I found a name.
Daniel Mitchell.
Beside it was a date.
June 2009.
Our wedding year.
I looked at my husband.
"Why is your name here?""
Daniel stared at the notebook.
"I don't know.""
"Stop saying that!""
I flipped several pages.
There were more names.
Thomas Reed.
Martin Lawson.
Margaret Mitchell.
And beneath them, written in red ink:
The original file was transferred before the accident.
I turned another page.
A handwritten sentence filled the center.
If Sarah ever learns the truth, she must be told about the child.
My hands went numb.
"What child?""
Daniel stood up.
"Sarah, we should stop.""
I looked at him.
"Why?""
He glanced at the photograph.
Then at Mr. Lawson.
"Because I think I know who the girl is.""
Eric moved closer.
"Who?""
Daniel hesitated.
Then he said a name.
"Emily.""
I felt my heart stop.
Emily was our daughter.
Our seventeen-year-old daughter.
I stared at him.
"Don't.""
"Sarah—"
"Don't you dare bring our daughter into this.""
Daniel's voice became quieter.
"Look at the photograph.""
I did.
The girl wore the same silver necklace Emily had worn in the family photograph hanging above our fireplace.
But that wasn't what frightened me.
It was the birthmark.
A small crescent-shaped mark near the girl's left wrist.
Emily had the same mark.
I looked at the date again.
August 2001.
Emily had been born in November 2008.
"That can't be her.""
Daniel didn't respond.
I turned toward Mr. Lawson.
"Tell me what this means.""
The attorney looked as though he might collapse.
"Your mother had another child.""
I shook my head.
"No.""
"Sarah—"
"She had me and Eric. There were no other children.""
Mr. Lawson lowered his voice.
"According to the documents your father left, there was a third.""
Eric looked at the photograph again.
"Who was the father?""
Daniel slowly sat down.
"That's what I was trying to protect you from.""
I felt a terrible coldness spread through my chest.
"Tell me.""
He looked at me.
"Your father.""
I stepped backward.
"My father was the girl's father?""
"No. Not biologically.""
"Then who?""
Daniel looked at the attorney.
Mr. Lawson finally spoke.
"Thomas Reed.""
Eric gripped the edge of the desk.
"You're saying Thomas had a daughter with Mom?""
"Yes.""
I stared at the photograph.
Suddenly, the story of my childhood seemed to split apart.
My mother had another child.
My father knew.
Thomas knew.
And somehow, Daniel knew too.
"Where is she now?"" I asked.
Mr. Lawson didn't answer.
I grabbed the notebook.
"Where is she?""
Daniel spoke quietly.
"She was adopted.""
"By whom?""
He closed his eyes.
"By a couple in Ohio.""
I waited.
He looked at me.
"Her adoptive father was named Michael Mitchell.""
I stared at him.
That was my father's brother.
My uncle Michael had died in 2010.
His wife, Helen, had raised their only child, Emily.
But Emily was not their biological daughter.
She was my mother's child.
My niece.
My sister.
I sank into Dad's chair.
"Does Emily know?""
Daniel shook his head.
"No.""
I covered my face.
Then something else occurred to me.
"If Emily is Thomas's daughter, why is Daniel's name in this notebook?""
Daniel didn't answer.
Eric took the brass key from the compartment.
"Maybe the answer is in Box 417.""
Mr. Lawson examined the key.
"This isn't a storage key.""
"What is it?""
"It's a bank vault key.""
He turned it over.
A number was engraved on its side.
417.
I looked at Daniel.
"What's in the vault?""
He swallowed.
"The original documents.""
"Which documents?""
"The adoption papers. Your mother's medical records. And the original military investigation.""
"How do you know?""
Daniel finally looked at me.
"Because I delivered them there.""
Eric moved toward him.
"You said you didn't know anything!""
"I said I didn't know everything.""
"That's not the same thing!""
Before Eric could continue, my phone rang.
It was Emily.
I answered immediately.
"Sweetheart?""
Her voice sounded frightened.
"Mom, where are you?""
"At Grandpa's house. What's wrong?""
"Someone came to the school asking for me.""
My blood turned cold.
"Who?""
"He said he was an old family friend. He knew Dad's name. He knew Grandma's name.""
I looked at Daniel.
He had stopped breathing.
Emily continued.
"Mom, he gave me something.""
"What?""
"A photograph.""
"What photograph?""
There was a pause.
Then she whispered:
"It's a picture of you holding a baby.""
I closed my eyes.
"Emily, listen to me. Don't go anywhere with that man.""
"Mom, there's something written on the back.""
"What does it say?""
May you like
Her voice trembled.
"It says, 'Ask your mother why she was told her sister died.''"
