Chapter 6 - ClaireI couldn't remember sitting down.
One second I was standing.
The next, I was on the floor beside the bed.
Claire.
My sister.
The person my family had spent years refusing to discuss.
Vanessa had known her.
Harris asked, “Ryan, when did Claire disappear?”
“Fourteen years ago.”
The same year as the photograph.
Harris glanced at Vanessa.
“Why was she involved with Marcus?”
Vanessa shook her head.
“She wasn't at first.”
“Then what changed?”
“Claire knew about my debt.”
I stared at Vanessa.
“What debt?”
“My father's.”
She looked exhausted.
“Claire tried to help me.”
“How?”
“She introduced me to someone who said he could erase it.”
“Marcus.”
“Yes.”
Harris asked, “And Claire?”
“She started working with him.”
My chest tightened.
“What did she do?”
“I don't know.”
“You expect me to believe that?”
“I never knew everything.”
“You knew enough.”
Vanessa lowered her head.
“I know.”
Nora appeared in the doorway.
She had been listening.
“Mommy said Aunt Claire was nice.”
I looked at her.
“How do you know Aunt Claire?”
Nora shrugged.
“She came to see me.”
My heart stopped.
“When?”
“Lots of times.”
“Where?”
“The apartment.”
“Recently?”
She shook her head.
“Before.”
Harris crouched beside her.
“What did she look like?”
Nora thought.
“Pretty.”
“That helps.”
“She wore a blue ring.”
I looked at Vanessa.
She whispered, “Claire had one.”
I stood so quickly the chair hit the wall.
“Claire is alive.”
Vanessa said nothing.
“You knew.”
“No.”
“You knew she was alive.”
“I suspected.”
“And you never told me?”
“I was afraid.”
“Afraid of what?”
“Of what she had become.”
Harris's phone rang.
He answered.
His expression changed.
“Where?”
He listened.
“Understood.”
He hung up.
“They found an abandoned red truck three blocks away.”
“Graham?”
“Possibly.”
Nora suddenly grabbed my hand.
“He doesn't use the truck.”
I looked down at her.
“What?”
“The man with the red truck doesn't drive it.”
Harris frowned.
“Then who does?”
Nora whispered, “A lady.”
“What lady?”
“She has your mother's face.”
The room went completely silent.
I stared at Vanessa.
“No.”
Vanessa looked at me.
“I don't understand.”
Nora pointed toward the photograph.
“Her.”
I picked it up.
The woman standing beside me was partially obscured.
But now I looked carefully.
The hair.
The coat.
The ring.
The face turned slightly toward the camera.
It was Claire.
My sister.
Alive.
Harris took the photograph.
“Do you know where she is?”
Nora nodded.
“In the house.”
I felt the hairs rise on my arms.
“What do you mean?”
Nora pointed at the bedroom wall.
“She talks to me.”
I looked at the panel.
“When?”
“At night.”
“What does she say?”
Nora whispered, “She says Mommy doesn't know the whole truth.”
Vanessa stepped backward.
“No.”
The little girl looked at her.
“She says Ryan does.”
A thud sounded above us.
We all looked up.
Then came footsteps.
Slow.
Deliberate.
Across the ceiling.
Harris raised his flashlight.
“Our attic.”
He looked at me.
“Is there another entrance?”
I shook my head.
“No.”
Vanessa's face had gone white.
“There used to be.”
Harris turned toward her.
“When?”
“Before the house was renovated.”
“Where?”
Vanessa pointed.
“At the end of the hallway.”
We moved together.
At the ceiling, behind an old wooden frame, was a narrow hatch.
I reached for it.
Harris stopped me.
“Don't.”
Then something slid across the attic floor above us.
A blue ring dropped through the opening.
It landed at my feet.
Claire's ring.
A voice whispered from the darkness above.
“Ryan?”
I looked up.
“Claire?”
May you like
She answered softly.
“You shouldn't have married her.”
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