Chapter 3: The Woman Who Was Supposed to Be Dead
For several seconds, I heard nothing except the soft hum of Sophie's nightlight.
Daniel stood beside the bed, one hand hovering near the bag.
My arms tightened around Sophie.
“What did you say, sweetheart?”” I whispered.
She shook her head against my shoulder.
“Nothing.””
“I heard you.””
“Please don't tell Daddy.””
Daniel took a step forward.
“Sophie, look at me.””
She buried her face deeper into my dress.
“Not now,” I said.
“Lily, she's confused.””
“Then let her talk.””
“She doesn't understand what she's saying.””
“Then explain it to me.””
He opened his mouth, but nothing came out.
That silence told me more than any answer could have.
I rubbed Sophie's back.
“Sweetheart, nobody is sending you anywhere tonight. You're home. You're safe.””
She pulled away just enough to look at me.
“Promise?””
“I promise.””
Daniel made a frustrated sound.
“Lily, you're making this worse.””
I looked at him.
“She's eight years old, crying in her own bedroom, begging me not to let her go back somewhere. What exactly would you like me to do? Ignore her?””
His face flushed.
“I'd like you to stop questioning her as if she's on trial.””
“Then stop standing over her like she's done something wrong.””
He stepped back.
Sophie wiped her eyes with the sleeve of her pajamas.
I took the bag from the bedside table and placed it inside my purse.
“I think you should give us a little time,” I told Daniel.
He stared at me.
“This is my house.””
“And she's my family.””
The words came out before I could stop them.
Something changed in his expression.
Not anger.
Something colder.
“Your family,” he repeated.
“Yes.””
He looked at Sophie.
Then he looked at me.
“Fine,” he said.
“You two can talk.””
He walked out and closed the door.
Not slammed it.
Closed it carefully.
That was worse.
I waited until his footsteps disappeared down the stairs before turning back to Sophie.
“Tell me about your mommy.””
She stared at the moonlight.
“She's not supposed to come here.””
“Who told you that?””
“Daddy.””
“Did she come here anyway?””
Sophie nodded.
“Did she give you the bag?””
Another nod.
“When?””
She pressed her fingers against the missing ear on her rabbit.
“Before the wedding.””
“How long before?””
“I don't know.””
“Was it today?””
“No.””
“Last week?””
She hesitated.
“Maybe.””
I tried to keep my voice gentle.
“Why did she give you her hair?””
“It's my hair.””
“The hair in the bag?””
She nodded.
“Mommy said it was important.””
“Why?””
Sophie looked toward the door again.
“Because people think she's gone.””
I felt my stomach tighten.
“Gone where?””
She shook her head.
“Mommy said I couldn't tell.””
“Sophie, I won't be angry with you. You haven't done anything wrong.””
She looked at me with an expression so serious that it made her seem much older than eight.
“That's what she said.””
“What?””
“That you wouldn't be angry.””
My skin prickled.
“When did she say that?””
Sophie climbed out of bed and walked to her bookshelf. She reached behind a row of picture books and pulled out a folded piece of paper.
She handed it to me.
The paper was creased into quarters. The edges had begun to soften from being handled.
I opened it carefully.
Inside was a photograph.
A woman stood beside a chain-link fence, wearing a dark coat and a knitted hat. Her hair fell to her shoulders in loose waves.
She was holding a little girl.
The girl's face was turned away from the camera, but I recognized the pink jacket she wore.
It was the same jacket Sophie had arrived in when Daniel brought her to our house in February.
On the back of the photograph, someone had written a date.
March 12.
And beneath it, five words.
*If anything happens, remember me.*
I stared at the handwriting.
“Who gave you this?””
“Mommy.””
“Was this taken before you came to live with us?””
Sophie nodded.
“Where was it taken?””
“I don't know.””
“Did your mommy tell you where she was going?””
Sophie shook her head.
“She said she had to go away so nobody would find her.””
I lowered the photograph.
“Who was looking for her?””
She didn't answer.
I tried another question.
“Did she tell you that the hair would make people think she was dead?””
Sophie looked down at her hands.
“She said it would make them stop looking.””
My mouth went dry.
“Who?””
She began twisting the fabric of her pajama shirt.
“People who wanted to take her away.””
I glanced toward the door.
Daniel was downstairs.
I could hear the television playing in the living room, although I knew he wasn't watching it.
“Did your daddy know about this photograph?””
“No.””
“Did he know your mommy gave you the hair?””
Sophie shook her head.
Then she whispered, “He knows about the woman.””
“What woman?””
“The one who came to the house.””
I thought of Sylvia.
The cream-colored coat. The leather handbag. The way Sophie had frozen on the stairs.
“Was it Sylvia?””
Sophie stared at me.
Then she began to cry again.
I pulled her into my arms.
“It's okay. You don't have to answer right now.””
She clung to me.
“Mommy said if Sylvia saw me, she'd know where Mommy was.””
I looked at the photograph in my hand.
The woman in the picture had dark, wavy hair.
The same shade as the hair in the plastic bag.
I wanted to believe there was a simple explanation. A misunderstanding. A family secret that had been blown out of proportion by frightened adults.
But the pharmacy label remained in my mind.
S-08. Keep sealed. Do not discard.
That wasn't the sort of thing someone wrote on a child's keepsake.
I kissed Sophie's forehead and tucked her back into bed.
“I'm going to speak to your father,” I said.
She caught my wrist.
“Don't let him take me.””
“I won't let anyone hurt you.””
“Even Daddy?””
The question nearly broke me.
I sat beside her until she fell asleep, then went downstairs.
Daniel was in the kitchen, standing at the counter with a glass of water. The television was still playing in the next room.
He looked up when I entered.
“Is she asleep?””
“Yes.””
“Good.””
He turned back to the counter.
I placed the photograph between us.
“Who is this woman?””
He looked down.
The glass slipped in his hand and struck the counter hard enough to spill water across the surface.
He didn't reach for a towel.
“Where did you get that?””
“From Sophie.””
“Give it to me.””
“No.””
His eyes lifted to mine.
“Lily, you don't understand what you're dealing with.””
“Then explain it.””
He ran a hand through his hair.
“It's complicated.””
“I'm tired of that answer.””
He began pacing between the kitchen island and the back door.
“Karen has been unstable for a long time. She believes people are following her. She makes up stories, and she pulls Sophie into them.””
“Is this Karen?””
He stopped.
“Yes.””
“Why does Sophie think she's dead?””
Daniel's face went blank.
“What?””
“She said her mother gave her the hair because people thought Karen was gone.””
He stared at me.
Then he laughed once, without humor.
“That doesn't make any sense.””
“Neither does a bag of cut hair with a pharmacy label.””
“Karen has done things that don't make sense for years.””
“Then why did you tell me the handwriting was hers?””
“Because it looked like hers.””
“You said you recognized it.””
He pressed both hands against the counter.
“Lily, I am trying to protect Sophie.””
“From what?””
He didn't answer.
I leaned closer.
“Did Karen fake her death?””
His head snapped up.
“Don't ever say that again.””
“Why?””
“Because you have no idea what you're talking about.””
“Then tell me the truth.””
He stared at me for a long moment.
Finally, he picked up the photograph and turned it over.
“Karen was declared missing in March,” he said.
“Her car was found near the river outside town. The police searched for days. They found no body, but they found enough evidence to believe she had gone into the water.””
My fingers went numb.
“You told me she was living somewhere else.””
“I told you she wasn't living with us.””
“You let me believe she was alive and simply staying away.””
“I didn't know what happened to her.””
“But you knew she was missing.””
He looked away.
“Yes.””
“And you never thought to tell me?””
“You were already involved in a custody case. I didn't want to bring more trouble into our lives.””
I stared at him.
“Our lives?””
He rubbed his face.
“I was trying to give Sophie a normal home.””
“By letting her believe her mother was dead?””
“She doesn't know that.””
“She just told me her mother gave her a bag of hair and warned her that people were looking for her.””
Daniel's jaw tightened.
“Karen was capable of manipulating a child. That's why the court gave me custody.””
“Then why is Sophie afraid of Sylvia?””
He went very still.
I saw it again.
That tiny pause.
That calculation.
“Who told you that name?”” he asked.
“Sophie.””
He moved toward me.
“Listen to me. Sylvia is a family friend who helped during the custody proceedings. She's been trying to keep Karen away from Sophie.””
“Then why does Sophie think Sylvia will find her mother?””
“Because Karen put that idea in her head.””
“Why did Sylvia ask you for money?””
His expression hardened.
“That's none of your business.””
I stared at him, stunned.
“We got married three hours ago.””
“And this is exactly why I didn't want to tell you everything before the wedding.””
“Everything?””
He closed his eyes.
For the first time since I'd known him, he looked exhausted in a way sleep couldn't fix.
“Karen isn't the only person who has lied,” he said.
Before I could ask what he meant, a car door slammed outside.
We both turned toward the window.
Headlights swept across the kitchen wall.
Someone was standing on our front porch.
Daniel moved toward the door.
I caught his arm.
“Who is it?””
He didn't answer.
The doorbell rang.
Once.
Then twice.
Daniel looked at me with a fear I had never seen before.
“Stay here,” he said.
He opened the door.
Sylvia stood on the porch wearing the same cream-colored coat she had worn during her previous visits. Rain glistened on her shoulders. In one hand, she held a black leather handbag.
In the other, she held a folded sheet of paper.
She looked past Daniel and found me in the kitchen.
Then she said, “I need to see the hair.””
Daniel stepped outside, pulling the door nearly closed behind him.
“You shouldn't be here.””
Sylvia ignored him.
“Did she find it?””
“Keep your voice down.””
“It's too late for that.””
She pushed the paper against his chest.
“Someone has been asking questions about the March report. They know the evidence was never destroyed.””
Daniel's face drained of color.
“What report?””
Sylvia gave him a sharp, humorless laugh.
“Don't pretend you don't know.””
I moved closer to the doorway.
She noticed me and stopped speaking.
For several seconds, she studied my face.
Then she looked down at my wedding ring.
“Congratulations,” she said.
“You married him just in time.””
“Just in time for what?”” I asked.
Sylvia stepped around Daniel.
Her gaze traveled down the hallway toward the stairs, where Sophie's bedroom was located.
“To learn that the child in your house isn't the only person your husband has been keeping secrets about.””
Daniel grabbed her arm.
“Get out.””
She pulled free.
“Tell her what happened on March 12.””
He said nothing.
Sylvia looked at me again.
“Ask your husband why the police stopped searching for Karen before they found her body.””
My heart began pounding.
“You said they never found a body,” I whispered.
Sylvia reached into her handbag and pulled out a photograph.
It showed a hospital corridor.
A gurney stood against the wall. Beside it was a woman in a hospital gown, her dark hair cropped close to her scalp.
Her face was turned toward the camera.
It was Karen.
Alive.
And beneath the photograph was a document bearing Daniel's signature.
Sylvia held it out to me.
“Now,” she said, “ask him why he signed the order to have her transferred to a facility that doesn't officially exist.””
I looked at Daniel.
He didn't deny it.
He didn't even look at me.
He was staring at the photograph, his face pale, his lips parted.
Then a small voice came from the staircase.
“Daddy?””
We turned.
Sophie stood on the landing in her pajamas, clutching her stuffed rabbit.
She looked at the photograph in Sylvia's hand.
Then she looked at her father.
“Why did you tell me Mommy was dead?””
Daniel took one step toward her.
“Sophie, sweetheart—”
May you like
She backed away.
And from somewhere outside, a siren began to wail.
