Chapter 9 - The House RememberedHarris found the fuse box.
The lights returned.
Nobody moved.
I looked at Vanessa.
Then at the old photograph in my hand.
“I want the truth.”
She nodded.
“There are things I don't remember.”
“What things?”
“About the year Claire disappeared.”
I frowned.
“You were with Vanessa?”
“No.”
She shook her head.
“But that's the problem.”
She opened the old metal box from the wall.
Inside was another envelope.
She handed it to me.
“Claire left this for you.”
The envelope was sealed with red wax.
Inside was a hospital bracelet.
My name.
The date was fourteen years ago.
I stared at it.
I had no memory of being in a hospital then.
Harris looked at the date.
“What happened to you?”
“I don't know.”
Vanessa whispered, “You were in an accident.”
I looked at her.
“When?”
“Two weeks before Claire disappeared.”
“You knew?”
“Claire told me.”
“What accident?”
“Your car went into the river.”
I remembered.
A flash.
Rain.
Headlights.
Then nothing.
Everyone had always told me I was lucky.
I'd believed them.
Harris asked, “What happened to the car?”
“Recovered.”
“Was anyone else with you?”
I shook my head.
Vanessa's face tightened.
“Claire was.”
I stared.
“My sister was in the car?”
“Yes.”
“Then why wasn't she reported as being there?”
“She was.”
“No.”
I shook my head.
“I remember the police report. They said I was alone.”
Vanessa whispered, “The report was changed.”
Harris looked at the paperwork.
“By whom?”
Vanessa pointed to a signature.
Graham Vale.
Harris's expression hardened.
“The hospital employee.”
Vanessa nodded.
“Marcus's brother.”
I read the rest.
Two patients had been brought in.
Ryan Carter.
Claire Carter.
Claire had survived.
Then she disappeared.
I looked at Vanessa.
“Why would Marcus want me?”
“Because Claire told him you had seen something.”
“What?”
She shook her head.
“You saw the ledger.”
“I was seventeen.”
“You saw it when you visited her.”
I tried to remember.
A basement.
A table.
A black notebook.
A photograph.
Then pain.
I pressed my fingers against my temple.
A memory surfaced.
Claire saying, “Don't tell Mom.”
Another.
Marcus standing behind a doorway.
Another.
A child crying.
I looked at Nora.
She was staring at me.
“You remember,” she whispered.
“Yes.”
“What?”
She moved closer.
“You were there.”
“Where?”
“At the hospital.”
My breath stopped.
“Fourteen years ago?”
She nodded.
“You saw me.”
“I was a baby.”
She nodded again.
“Mommy brought you.”
Vanessa covered her mouth.
“What?”
Nora continued.
“You held me.”
I looked at Vanessa.
“This isn't possible.”
“It is,” she whispered.
I shook my head.
“My sister disappeared when I was seventeen.”
“Yes.”
“And Nora was born fourteen years ago.”
“Yes.”
“Then why is she six?”
No one answered.
I looked back at the photograph.
The child behind the upstairs window.
Yellow sweater.
Same face.
But older.
Seven?
Eight?
I suddenly understood.
The photograph wasn't from 2012.
The date had been altered.
I turned it over.
Behind the written date was another faint impression.
I rubbed a pencil across the back.
Numbers appeared.
2020.
My hands went numb.
Nora was six in 2026.
She would have been an infant in 2020.
The photograph showed an infant's face.
Not a six-year-old.
I looked at Vanessa.
“The date was falsified.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“To make us believe Marcus had been watching us longer than he had.”
Harris frowned.
“Who would do that?”
Vanessa looked at him.
“Claire.”
I stared.
“Why would Claire frame Marcus?”
“Because she wanted him to think I had already found Nora.”
A car door slammed outside.
Harris went to the window.
The black SUV was back.
This time someone stepped out.
A woman.
Long dark coat.
Blue ring.
Claire.
She looked directly at me through the glass.
Then she lifted a phone.
Mine rang.
I answered.
She said one sentence.
“Ryan, I need you to choose whether you want the truth or your wife.”
I looked at Vanessa.
Claire continued.
May you like
“Because you can't save both.”
The line went dead.
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