Chapter 8 - THE WOMAN IN THE PHOTOGRAPH|
Detective Ruiz asked me to bring the photograph to the station the next morning.
He examined it carefully, then placed it in a protective sleeve.
“Do you recognize the woman?” he asked.
“Only from Ethan's description.”
“Did you know she might have had a daughter?”
“No.”
“Did Ava ever mention another child?”
I thought about the fourth rule.
Don't ask about the woman in the pictures.
“I don't know,” I said. “She was told not to talk about something.”
Ruiz nodded.
“We're trying to establish Rebecca's whereabouts and whether the belongings in that box relate to the current investigation.”
“Is Rebecca missing?”
“I can't confirm that yet.”
I left the station with more questions than answers.
That afternoon, my attorney called to discuss the emergency custody hearing. The judge had ordered temporary restrictions on Ethan's unsupervised access while the allegations were investigated. Vanessa was not to contact Ava directly.
It was a small victory.
It didn't feel like one.
Ava still startled when the doorbell rang. She refused to wear the yellow pajamas she'd been wearing during the assault. She asked whether our apartment had a basement, then looked relieved when I told her it didn't.
At school, her teacher reported that Ava had begun drawing houses with no doors.
The counselor suggested patience and a stable routine.
So I gave her one.
Breakfast at seven.
School at eight.
A bedtime story every night.
I stopped answering work emails after dinner. I sat beside her while she brushed her teeth. I let her choose the night-light.
For the first time in months, I began to understand how much of her fear had been invisible because I was looking for obvious signs.
Then, on Thursday afternoon, a woman called my office.
“Is this Claire Bennett?”
“Yes.”
“My name is Lydia Shaw. I believe we have something in common.”
I waited.
“Rebecca Caldwell was my sister.”
My hand tightened around the phone.
“Where is she?”
“I don't know.”
The answer came without hesitation, and that frightened me.
Lydia explained that Rebecca had disappeared from her life nearly four years earlier. At first, Rebecca sent occasional messages. Then the messages stopped. Her phone was disconnected. Her apartment was cleared out.
When Lydia contacted Ethan, he told her Rebecca wanted no further contact.
“He said she had moved on,” Lydia told me. “He said she was happy.”
“Did you believe him?”
“I wanted to.”
I thought about the things I'd wanted to believe.
“I found a photograph,” I said. “Rebecca was standing beside Ethan. Someone wrote a message on the back.”
“What did it say?”
I read it aloud.
Lydia went silent.
Then she whispered, “There was a little girl.”
I sat down.
“Whose little girl?”
“Rebecca's.”
My mind raced through everything Ethan had told me.
He had said Rebecca had no children.
He had said their marriage ended quietly.
He had said he never heard from her again.
“What's the child's name?” I asked.
“Emma.”
“Where is she now?”
“I don't know. Rebecca told me she was safe with someone she trusted.”
“Did she ever mention Vanessa?”
A pause.
“Constantly.”
Lydia's voice broke.
“Rebecca said Vanessa wanted everything she had. Her friends, her career, her husband. And when Rebecca finally tried to leave, Vanessa told her nobody would believe her.”
I pressed my fingers against my forehead.
“Why didn't you go to the police?”
“I did. They said adults disappear for all kinds of reasons. Without evidence of a crime, there wasn't much they could do.”
“Did you ever find Emma?”
“No.”
I stared at the photograph on my desk.
A missing woman.
A hidden child.
A basement full of belongings.
And a little girl who had been told to keep quiet.
May you like
Before Lydia hung up, she said something I couldn't forget.
“If Vanessa is in that house, Claire, then you need to find out what happened to Emma before another child disappears.”
