Chapter 7 - THE HOUSE BEHIND THE TREES
Emma thought she had misheard him.
“Three miles?”
Hayes nodded.
Nathan stared at him.
“You’re saying Rebecca lived three miles from my family?”
“For nearly eight months.”
“When?”
“Six years ago.”
Emma looked sick.
“My mother was that close?”
“Yes.”
“And never contacted me?”
Hayes’s face tightened.
“She watched you.”
Emma’s eyes filled.
“What?”
“She watched from a distance.”
Nathan looked away.
Emma whispered.
“She watched me?”
“Yes.”
Hayes reached inside his coat and pulled out a key.
He placed it on the bed.
“Rebecca rented the house under another name.”
“Who owns it now?”
“No one.”
Nathan frowned.
“That makes no sense.”
Hayes looked at him.
“She bought it through a shell company.”
Emma almost laughed.
“Apparently everyone in this family loves shell companies.”
Hayes ignored the comment.
“The property has been empty since she disappeared.”
Nathan picked up the key.
“How do you know no one is watching it?”
“I don’t.”
Nathan stared at him.
“Excellent.”
Emma looked toward the door.
“We still need to leave.”
Hayes nodded.
A doctor entered two minutes later.
Emma insisted on discharge.
The doctor objected.
Emma listened.
Then signed the form anyway.
The baby’s heartbeat was stable.
There were no signs of immediate labor.
Her shoulder was badly bruised.
Her wrist was sprained.
She had minor internal bruising.
The doctor warned her twice that stress could change everything.
Emma understood.
But staying in a hospital room that strangers could access felt worse.
Forty minutes later, Hayes led Emma and Nathan through a service corridor.
Emma wore hospital sweatpants beneath her torn blouse.
Nathan had found her a coat from the lost-and-found supply.
She hated everything about leaving.
She hated the pain.
She hated the fear.
She hated needing Nathan’s arm around her.
But she accepted it.
Not because she trusted him again.
Because she needed to walk.
They exited through a loading entrance.
A plain gray sedan waited outside.
Hayes opened the rear door.
Nathan stopped.
“Whose car?”
“Mine.”
“No.”
Hayes stared at him.
Nathan shook his head.
“You said we shouldn’t go with you.”
“I said you could.”
“I’m driving.”
“With what car?”
Nathan looked around.
Hayes tossed him the keys.
Nathan caught them.
“You drive.”
Hayes walked around to the passenger side.
Nathan frowned.
“You’re coming?”
Hayes opened the door.
“Unless you want to find Rebecca’s house alone.”
Emma got into the back.
Nathan drove.
No one spoke for the first ten minutes.
The city lights faded behind them.
They moved toward the hills surrounding the Whitmore estate.
Emma watched dark trees pass beyond the window.
Every bump in the road sent pain through her body.
Nathan noticed through the mirror.
“You okay?”
“Yes.”
“Emma.”
“I said yes.”
Nathan returned his eyes to the road.
Hayes gave directions.
“Left at the next intersection.”
Nathan turned.
“Then?”
“Two miles.”
The road narrowed.
Large houses disappeared.
Trees thickened.
Finally Hayes pointed toward a nearly invisible gravel lane.
“There.”
Nathan slowed.
“I don’t see anything.”
“Exactly.”
They turned.
Branches scraped lightly against the car.
The lane curved between tall pines.
Then a house appeared.
Small.
Dark.
Two stories.
No exterior lights.
No mailbox.
No neighboring homes.
Nathan stopped.
“This was three miles from us?”
Hayes nodded.
“The hill blocks direct access.”
Emma stared at the house.
Her mother had lived there.
Watched her.
Hidden from her.
She suddenly felt angry again.
Not at Hayes.
At Rebecca.
She had spent years believing her mother was dead.
Rebecca had been close enough to see the Whitmore mansion lights at night.
Hayes stepped out first.
Nathan stopped Emma.
“Wait.”
“What?”
“Give him a minute.”
Emma looked at Hayes checking the porch.
Nathan continued.
“We don’t know who we can trust.”
Emma watched Hayes.
“I know.”
Nathan looked at her.
“I mean it.”
“So do I.”
They waited.
Hayes unlocked the front door.
Then signaled.
Nathan helped Emma from the car.
Inside, the house smelled stale.
Dust covered the floor.
Old furniture sat under white sheets.
Emma looked around.
Nothing felt familiar.
Then she saw a photograph frame on a shelf.
She walked toward it.
The photograph was missing.
But the frame remained.
Emma touched it.
“Why leave this?”
Hayes stood behind her.
“She didn’t plan to disappear for long.”
Emma turned.
“What happened?”
Hayes hesitated.
“I lost contact with her.”
“When?”
“Three days after the fake funeral.”
Emma stared.
“You told me she disappeared six years ago.”
“She did.”
“But you helped her disappear first.”
“Yes.”
“Then she disappeared from you.”
“Yes.”
Emma shook her head.
“You keep changing the story.”
“I’m telling you what I can.”
“No.”
Emma’s voice sharpened.
“You’re telling me what becomes necessary after I catch you lying.”
Nathan watched Hayes.
Hayes did not deny it.
Emma continued.
“Why did my mother leave you?”
Hayes looked toward the covered furniture.
“I don’t know.”
“Wrong answer.”
Hayes exhaled.
“She discovered someone had accessed my case files.”
Nathan frowned.
“Who?”
“I never found out.”
“She thought it was you.”
“Yes.”
“Was she wrong?”
Hayes looked at Emma.
“Yes.”
Emma did not believe him.
Nathan walked deeper into the room.
“There should be electricity.”
Hayes shook his head.
“Disconnected.”
“Water?”
“Probably.”
Nathan pulled out his phone.
No signal.
“Perfect.”
Emma moved toward the stairs.
Hayes stopped her.
“Where are you going?”
“To look.”
“For what?”
“Anything my mother left.”
Hayes stared at her.
“Emma.”
She turned.
“If this house was hers, I’m searching every inch.”
Hayes’s expression became tense.
Nathan noticed.
“You don’t want her searching.”
“That isn’t what I said.”
“It’s what your face said.”
Hayes ignored him.
Emma climbed carefully.
The second floor held three bedrooms.
The first was empty.
The second contained boxes.
The third was locked.
Emma tried the handle.
“Hayes.”
He climbed the stairs.
“What?”
“Key.”
Hayes looked at the door.
“I don’t have one.”
Emma stared at him.
“You have the front door key but not this one.”
“That room was always locked.”
Nathan stepped beside them.
“You’ve never been inside?”
“No.”
Nathan looked at the door.
Then at Emma.
“Stand back.”
He kicked near the lock.
Nothing.
Again.
Wood cracked.
Hayes frowned.
“Nathan.”
A third kick broke the frame.
The door swung inward.
Emma stepped inside.
The room smelled different.
Metal.
Paper.
Old perfume.
A desk sat beneath the window.
Bookshelves covered two walls.
And across the far wall were photographs.
Dozens.
Emma stopped.
Every photograph was of her.
Emma walking into work.
Emma leaving a grocery store.
Emma sitting beside Nathan at a restaurant.
Emma standing outside the Whitmore mansion.
Some were years old.
Nathan stared.
“My God.”
Emma approached the wall.
One photo showed her wedding.
Rebecca had been there.
Not inside.
Across the street.
Emma’s chest tightened.
“She watched.”
Hayes said nothing.
Nathan touched a photograph.
“Who took these?”
Hayes answered.
“Rebecca.”
Emma looked at the dates.
Then froze.
One photograph had been taken four months ago.
Emma turned.
“Hayes.”
He looked.
She pulled the photo down.
“This is recent.”
Hayes’s face changed.
Nathan stepped closer.
The photograph showed Emma entering the courthouse.
Date stamp.
April 12.
This year.
Emma stared at Hayes.
“You said you hadn’t seen my mother in six years.”
“I haven’t.”
“Then who took this?”
Hayes did not answer.
Emma searched the wall.
Another recent photograph.
Then another.
May.
June.
Last week.
Nathan’s expression darkened.
“Someone has been using this room.”
Hayes looked around.
He walked toward the desk.
Dust covered most of it.
But one drawer handle was clean.
He pulled it open.
Empty.
Then Nathan found something.
“Here.”
Under the desk was a power strip.
Modern.
Plugged into nothing.
Nathan followed the cord.
It disappeared behind the bookshelf.
He moved the shelf.
A narrow door stood behind it.
Hayes reached for his weapon.
Emma stared.
“You didn’t know about this.”
“No.”
Nathan opened the door.
A small hidden room appeared.
Inside was a table.
A laptop.
Two monitors.
Stacks of folders.
And a wall covered with printed bank records.
Emma entered.
Hayes followed.
One monitor still had power.
Nathan frowned.
“How?”
Hayes looked toward the corner.
A battery backup system hummed quietly.
Someone had been here recently.
Very recently.
Emma approached the table.
A coffee cup sat beside the laptop.
She touched it.
Warm.
Nathan immediately turned toward the hallway.
“Someone’s here.”
Hayes raised his gun.
“Stay behind me.”
Emma looked down.
A notebook lay open.
Three names were written on the page.
Margaret Whitmore.
Daniel Hayes.
Nathan Whitmore.
Nathan stared.
“Why is my name there?”
Emma turned the page.
Under Nathan’s name was a single sentence.
HE DOESN’T KNOW YET.
Nathan looked at Emma.
“Know what?”
Before she could answer, a floorboard creaked downstairs.
Hayes raised one finger.
Silence.
Another creak.
Then a woman spoke from below.
“Emma?”
Emma froze.
The voice was older.
Weak.
But unmistakable.
The same voice from the recording.
Emma stepped toward the hallway.
Hayes grabbed her arm.
“No.”
Emma pulled away.
“Mom?”
Silence.
Then the woman answered.
“Yes.”
Emma’s eyes filled instantly.
She walked toward the stairs.
Nathan followed.
Hayes remained behind them.
Emma descended slowly.
Her entire body trembled.
At the bottom of the staircase stood a woman.
Late fifties.
Thin.
Gray streaks in dark hair.
A scar ran from her left temple toward her jaw.
She held a handgun.
Not pointed at Emma.
Pointed at Hayes.
Emma stopped.
“Mom?”
Rebecca Bennett looked at her daughter.
Her face broke.
“Oh, sweetheart.”
Emma began crying.
Rebecca took one step forward.
Emma did too.
Then Rebecca looked past her.
At Nathan.
Her expression changed.
“Why is he here?”
Nathan stopped.
Emma glanced back.
“He helped me.”
Rebecca raised the gun higher.
“Then you made a mistake.”
Emma frowned.
“Mom.”
Rebecca kept her eyes on Nathan.
“He is not who you think he is.”
Nathan stared at her.
“I don’t even know who you think I am.”
Rebecca’s hand trembled.
Hayes appeared behind Emma.
Rebecca immediately shifted the gun toward him.
“Don’t move.”
Hayes stopped.
“Rebecca.”
“I said don’t move.”
Emma looked between them.
“You know where Evelyn is.”
Rebecca’s eyes flicked toward Emma.
“Yes.”
Nathan stepped forward.
“Where is my sister?”
Rebecca pointed the gun at him.
“Stay there.”
Nathan stopped.
“Is she alive?”
Rebecca said nothing.
Nathan’s jaw tightened.
“Is she alive?”
“Yes.”
“Where?”
Rebecca looked at Emma.
May you like
Then said something that changed the room completely.
“She’s exactly where Margaret left me twenty-three years ago.”
