Chapter 16: The Woman We Buried
For a moment, I couldn't move.
The photograph showed Lily standing beside a woman I had buried five years earlier.
Sarah's mother, Eleanor.
I remembered the funeral. The black dress. The trembling hands. The way she had held my arm and whispered that Lily was all she had left.
I remembered watching the coffin disappear beneath the earth.
And now she was standing outside my house.
Alive.
“Michael,” Detective Harris said sharply.
“Don't respond to that message.””
I barely heard him.
“That's Eleanor.””
“I know.””
“She was dead.””
“Apparently, someone wanted us to believe that.””
My phone vibrated again.
One hour. The necklace. Come alone.
Harris took the phone from my hand.
“You're not going anywhere alone.””
“Lily is in that photograph.””
“And that's exactly why we're going to do this carefully.””
He called the officers guarding Emily's house. Within minutes, they confirmed that Lily and Mason were safe. The photograph, however, had been taken earlier. The woman could have been watching the house before the security detail arrived.
Harris sent two unmarked units to the area.
Then he called Rebecca.
“Find everything you can about Eleanor Carter's death,” he ordered.
“Hospital records, death certificate, burial records. Everything.””
I looked at him.
“You think she faked her death?””
“I think we don't know what happened.””
Rebecca called twenty minutes later.
Her voice was shaking.
“Michael, I found something.””
“What?””
“Eleanor's death certificate was signed by Dr. Eleanor Hayes.””
I closed my eyes.
The same doctor who had falsified the birth records.
“Was there an autopsy?””
“No.””
“Who identified the body?””
“Your name is on the paperwork.””
I stared at the phone.
“I never identified her body.””
Rebecca paused.
“What?””
“I was told the funeral home had handled everything. Sarah's mother had supposedly died in another state. I signed the papers because David told me it was routine.””
Harris looked at me.
“David handled the arrangements?””
“Yes.””
Rebecca continued.
“There's another problem. The burial plot contains no official record of a body being interred. The funeral home received payment, but the transport documentation is missing.””
I felt my stomach tighten.
“So there was no body.””
“Not according to the records.””
Harris took the phone.
“Rebecca, can you find where Eleanor went after the supposed date of death?””
“I found an address connected to her bank account. Payments continued for years.””
“Where?””
“An apartment building near the old St. Mary's Hospital.””
Harris wrote it down.
Then Rebecca said something that made the room go silent.
“Michael, Eleanor wasn't just connected to the hospital. She was the legal guardian listed on a private account belonging to a child.””
“What child?””
Rebecca hesitated.
“Sarah's biological daughter.””
I gripped the edge of the table.
“Then Sarah's baby survived.””
“Yes.””
“Where is she?””
“I don't know. The account was closed last month.””
I looked at Harris.
“David took her.””
He nodded slowly.
“Or someone helped him.””
At 9:42 p.m., we reached the apartment building.
It was an old brick structure with a narrow entrance and a broken security camera.
Harris took two officers upstairs.
I stayed behind the first unit until they cleared the hallway.
Apartment 3B.
The door was unlocked.
Inside, the furniture had been covered with white sheets. A cup sat on the kitchen counter, still holding a little coffee.
Someone had left in a hurry.
On the dining table was a photograph.
Eleanor stood beside a teenage girl.
The girl had dark hair, a small birthmark beneath her left eye, and Sarah's unmistakable smile.
I picked it up.
“Who is she?””
Harris examined the back.
There was a handwritten date from three months earlier.
And a name.
*Anna.*
Beneath it, another sentence:
My granddaughter deserves to know who her mother was.
I stared at the photograph.
“Anna.””
Harris searched the room.
In a locked desk drawer, he found a folder containing copies of hospital documents, guardianship papers, and photographs of a little girl growing up.
There were pictures from birthdays, school events, and family outings.
The girl in the photographs was not Lily.
She was Sarah's biological daughter.
At the bottom of the folder was a letter addressed to me.
I unfolded it.
Michael,
If you are reading this, then I have run out of time.
I did not die five years ago. I allowed you to believe I had because Helen threatened to take Sarah's child away if I interfered.
I thought I could protect her from a distance. I was wrong.
Sarah knew the truth. She knew Lily was Claire's biological daughter, and she knew her own daughter was alive.
She begged me to help her bring both girls together.
I refused.
I was afraid of Helen.
That is the truth I have carried for years.
I stopped reading.
Sarah had known.
She had known her biological daughter was alive.
And she had been trying to find her.
Harris picked up another document.
“Michael, look at this.””
It was a hospital transfer authorization.
The child named Anna had been moved between three facilities before being placed under Eleanor's guardianship.
The final transfer was signed by Deputy Chief Lawson.
But the receiving institution wasn't a hospital.
It was a private school.
A school for girls.
Harris read the name.
“Briarwood Academy.””
I looked at him.
“Where is that?””
“About forty miles from here.””
Then his phone rang.
He listened.
His expression hardened.
“What?””
He turned away, listened again, and ended the call.
“What happened?””
“David was spotted near Briarwood Academy.””
I looked down at the photograph of Anna.
“Then that's where he's going.””
Harris nodded.
“And if Eleanor is with him, we may finally get the truth.””
My phone vibrated.
A new message appeared.
You found my apartment. Good. Now you know I have two granddaughters.
Then another.
But only one of them is in danger.
A final message followed.
Look behind you.
I turned.
At the far end of the hallway stood Eleanor.
She was holding a photograph of Sarah.
And she was crying.
May you like
“Michael,” she whispered.
“Please don't let them take Anna again.””
