Chapter 3 - EMMA REED
Claire called Daniel’s older sister, Rebecca.
She sent the photo.
Silence.
Then Rebecca called.
“Where did you get that?”
“Who is Emma?”
Rebecca began crying.
Claire closed her eyes.
“You knew.”
“Yes.”
“Who was she?”
Rebecca whispered:
“Daniel’s daughter.”
Claire felt the basement tilt.
Daniel had become a father at nineteen.
The mother was Maya Reed.
They never married.
They separated when Emma was two.
Daniel remained involved.
Not perfectly.
But regularly.
Then Emma died.
Claire could barely ask:
“How?”
“Car accident.”
“How old?”
“Eight.”
Claire stopped.
Lily had turned nine four months earlier.
Rebecca continued.
“It happened ten years ago.”
One year before Claire met Daniel.
“Why didn’t he tell me?”
Rebecca said:
“He stopped telling anyone.”
That was not an answer.
“Why didn’t you?”
“He made us promise.”
Claire laughed bitterly.
“You all promised him my ignorance?”
Rebecca said nothing.
Then Claire asked:
“Was Emma’s birthday today?”
“No.”
Claire stared.
“What?”
Emma was born on April 14.
Today was September 3.
Daniel’s birthday.
Then why the banner?
Why:
EMMA — AGE NINE?
Rebecca did not know.
That created a new mystery.
Emma never reached nine.
She died at eight years, eleven months.
Three weeks before her ninth birthday.
The age-nine birthday in the apartment had never happened.
Claire returned to the basement box.
More photographs.
Emma at five.
Six.
Seven.
Eight.
Then a program from a memorial service.
No hidden second family.
No living child.
But a dead daughter Claire had never been told existed.
Then she found a note in Daniel’s handwriting:
NINE WAS SUPPOSED TO BE THE EASY ONE.
Claire stared.
What did that mean?
Then Daniel finally called.
His first words:
“Are you at the apartment?”
Claire said nothing.
He repeated:
“Claire?”
She answered:
“Who is Emma?”
Silence.
Then Daniel whispered:
“Where’s Lily?”
Claire’s anger sharpened.
“Safe.”
“Did she see the room?”
“Yes.”
Daniel made a sound like he had been hit.
“Please don’t tell her anything until I get there.”
May you like
Claire looked at the photo of Emma.
“You don’t get to control the story anymore.”
