Chapter 4: The Woman Who Came Back From the Dead
The phone continued ringing in my hand.
Eleanor Mitchell.
My mother's name.
The woman I'd buried eight years earlier was sitting inside a black SUV across the street, watching my house.
And she wanted me to send the children outside.
“Don't answer it,” Daniel whispered.
I looked at him.
“Why?””
“Because she wants to know whether we've seen her.””
I glanced through the bedroom window again.
The SUV remained parked beneath the streetlight. Its headlights were off, but the engine was running.
The passenger door opened.
A woman stepped out.
She wore a cream-colored coat, black gloves, and the same pearl earrings my mother had worn at every family Christmas.
My knees nearly buckled.
“That's impossible,” I whispered.
Melissa moved behind me.
“Ryan, please don't let her inside.””
I turned sharply.
“You knew?””
Melissa didn't answer.
“YOU KNEW MY MOTHER WAS ALIVE?””
“She made me promise not to tell you.””
I stared at her.
“Everyone in this house seems to have made promises except the people who were supposed to be telling me the truth.””
The phone stopped ringing.
A second later, someone knocked on the front door.
Three slow knocks.
Then a familiar voice called from downstairs.
“Ryan, darling? It's Mommy.””
My stomach twisted.
Nobody had called me darling in that particular way since childhood.
I remembered her sitting beside my bed when I had nightmares. I remembered her making pancakes on Sunday mornings. I remembered her telling me that family was the one thing money could never buy.
And now I was wondering whether any of those memories had been real.
Daniel stepped between me and the bedroom door.
“Don't go down there.””
“Move.””
“Ryan, she didn't come alone.””
I looked at him.
“What?””
He pointed toward the street.
A second man had stepped out of the SUV.
He was wearing a dark suit and carrying a leather briefcase.
I recognized him too.
Arthur Collins.
My father's former attorney.
The man who had read my father's will.
The man who had personally assured me that every document had been legally verified.
“Wonderful,” I muttered.
“The whole family reunion.””
Another knock sounded.
“Ryan?”” my mother called.
“I know you're in there.””
I walked downstairs.
Daniel followed.
Melissa stayed upstairs with the children.
When I reached the front door, I looked through the peephole.
My mother stood on the porch.
Her hair was silver now, but her face was almost exactly as I remembered it.
She was holding a small gift bag.
As if she'd come to celebrate a birthday.
I unlocked the door but kept the security chain attached.
“Hello, Mother.””
She smiled.
“Oh, sweetheart.””
She reached toward my face.
I stepped backward.
Her smile disappeared.
“Are you going to leave your mother standing outside?””
“You're supposed to be dead.””
She sighed.
“Must we start with that?””
“Eight years. Eight years I've been visiting your grave.””
“Your father wanted it that way.””
“Did he also want me to believe Claire was dead?””
Her expression changed.
For the first time, I saw genuine irritation.
“Claire should never have become part of this family.””
I felt my hands curl into fists.
“She's my wife.””
“Was,” Eleanor corrected.
“She's been gone from your life for eleven years.””
“She's alive.””
My mother went completely still.
Behind her, Arthur Collins shifted his briefcase from one hand to the other.
Eleanor recovered quickly.
“Then you need to understand something, Ryan. Bringing that woman back into your life would be a terrible mistake.””
“Why?””
“Because she has been lying to you.””
I laughed.
“You're really going to use that argument?””
She leaned closer.
“Your father protected you.””
“From what?””
“From a woman who was willing to destroy this family.””
I stared at her.
“Which family? The one that keeps children in walls?””
Her face hardened.
“Where are the girls?””
I didn't answer.
She glanced past me.
“Lily and Grace. I want to see them.””
“You're not seeing anybody.””
“Ryan, don't be childish.””
“Get off my property.””
Arthur stepped forward.
“Mr. Mitchell, perhaps we should discuss the estate documents before making emotional decisions.””
I looked at him.
“Do you still represent my family?””
“I represent the Mitchell estate.””
“Then tell me why my father paid you to falsify medical records.””
Arthur's expression didn't change.
“I have no knowledge of any such activity.””
“Interesting. Because I have documents with your signature.””
He looked toward Eleanor.
That tiny movement told me everything.
My mother reached into her handbag and removed a folded document.
“Your father left something unfinished,” she said.
“I'm here to correct it.””
She pushed the paper through the narrow opening.
I looked down.
It was a guardianship agreement.
The document named Eleanor Mitchell as the temporary legal guardian of Lily, Grace, and Emma.
At the bottom was my signature.
Or something that looked like it.
I stared at it.
“I never signed this.””
Eleanor smiled faintly.
“You will.””
I tore the document in half.
Her smile vanished.
“Ryan, think carefully about what you're doing.””
“I am.””
“No, you're thinking like an angry little boy.””
I leaned closer.
“And you're thinking like someone who believes she can still control me.””
For several seconds, neither of us spoke.
Then Eleanor looked over my shoulder.
“Melissa?””
My wife appeared at the top of the stairs.
Eleanor's face softened.
“Come here, dear.””
Melissa didn't move.
“Eleanor,” she whispered.
My mother shook her head.
“Don't make this difficult.””
Melissa's hands trembled.
“You promised the girls would never be hurt.””
Eleanor sighed.
“And they weren't. Until you became careless.””
I turned toward Melissa.
“What does she mean?””
Melissa looked at me.
Then she said something I wasn't prepared to hear.
“She was the one who ordered me to put the girls behind the wall.””
My mother closed her eyes.
“Enough.””
“No!”” Melissa shouted.
“I'm finished protecting you!””
Eleanor looked at her coldly.
“Remember who paid your debts.””
Melissa began crying.
“You threatened to take Emma.””
“And I still can.””
I stepped forward.
“Not another word about my daughter.””
Eleanor smiled again.
This time, there was nothing warm about it.
“Which daughter, Ryan?””
I froze.
She opened her handbag and removed a photograph.
It showed three little girls standing in front of a white house.
Emma.
Lily.
Grace.
But someone had written a name beneath each face.
Emma Mitchell.
Lily Mitchell.
And the third name wasn't Grace Brooks.
It was Claire Mitchell.
I stared at the photograph.
“What is this?””
My mother leaned closer.
“It's a picture of the children who belong to this family.””
Then she pointed to the third girl.
“Ask Claire why she never told you about her first daughter.””
Before I could respond, Eleanor turned and walked toward the SUV.
Arthur followed.
I watched them leave.
Then I looked down at the photograph again.
There was something strange about the third child's face.
She looked older than Grace.
Much older.
And she had Claire's eyes.
Behind me, Daniel whispered:
“Ryan, don't believe a word she says.””
I turned.
“Why?””
Daniel looked toward the upstairs hallway.
“Because Grace isn't Claire's first daughter.””
He swallowed.
“She's her second.””
My blood ran cold.
“Then how many children does Claire have?””
Daniel stared at me.
May you like
“Four.””
And somewhere upstairs, a little girl began screaming.
