Chapter 3 - The Memory in the Red Coat“Run.”
The word echoed inside my head.
Not Robert’s voice.
Not the woman's voice from the phone.
My mother's.
I closed my eyes, and suddenly the bedroom disappeared.
I was eight years old again.
There was rain.
Cold rain tapping against a metal roof.
A red coat wrapped around my shoulders.
A playground behind an old brick building.
And a girl standing three feet away from me.
She was crying.
“Emma, you have to go.”
Her little hand was wrapped around mine.
I couldn't see her face clearly.
Only the scar above her eyebrow.
Then a man's voice came from behind us.
“Get in the car.”
The girl pulled me harder.
“Run!”
I opened my eyes with a gasp.
Robert was staring at me.
“You remembered.”
I backed away from him.
“What happened that day?”
He didn't answer.
“Robert.”
“You need to sit down.”
“No.”
“Emma, your memory may not be complete.”
“Then help me complete it.”
He looked toward the bedroom door.
“We can't stay here.”
“Not until you tell me.”
A long silence passed.
Finally, Robert said, “The girl in that photograph was Claire Mercer’s daughter.”
My heart pounded.
“Daniel's sister?”
“No.”
I stared at him.
“She wasn't Daniel's sister.”
“Then who was she?”
Robert swallowed.
“She was your sister.”
I couldn't speak.
The room seemed to lose all sound.
My sister.
The word felt absurd.
I had grown up an only child.
My parents never told me I had a sister.
My mother had never mentioned another child.
I shook my head.
“No. That's impossible.”
“She was your father's daughter too.”
“You're lying.”
“I wish I were.”
I turned away from him.
The room blurred.
I pressed both hands against the dresser.
“My father died when I was ten.”
“I know.”
“And my mother raised me alone.”
“She raised you after she separated you from that little girl.”
I spun around.
“Separated us?”
Robert nodded.
“Your sister was named Lily.”
The name hit something deep inside me.
Lily.
I had heard it.
Not recently.
Years ago.
A child's voice.
A bedtime story.
A song my mother used to sing.
Lily.
I whispered it.
“Why don't I remember her?”
“Because your mother made sure you wouldn't.”
I stared at him.
“She erased my sister from my life?”
“Not exactly.”
“Then explain it.”
Robert walked to the bed and picked up the photograph.
“Your parents were involved in a custody dispute when you were very young.”
“My parents were never divorced.”
“They were legally separated for eleven months.”
I frowned.
“No.”
“Yes.”
“Why don't I remember?”
“Because you were four.”
He turned the photograph over again.
“Your father had another child with another woman before he married your mother.”
I shook my head.
“You said Lily was my sister.”
“She was.”
“Who was her mother?”
Robert hesitated.
“Claire Mercer.”
The name made my stomach twist.
“Daniel's mother?”
“Yes.”
I stared at the photograph.
“So my father had a child with Claire?”
“Yes.”
“And Daniel knew?”
“Yes.”
“And my mother knew?”
“Yes.”
I backed away.
“This makes no sense.”
“It made perfect sense to your mother.”
“What does that mean?”
Robert lowered his voice.
“Your father didn't just have an affair with Claire.”
He paused.
“He was helping her investigate Northbridge.”
I looked toward the window.
“Then why was Lily with us?”
“Because Claire disappeared.”
“When?”
“Twelve years ago.”
“That was the same year…”
I stopped.
The memory returned in fragments.
A hospital corridor.
My mother crying.
A police officer kneeling in front of me.
A red coat.
A girl screaming.
I pressed my palms against my temples.
“I was there.”
“Yes.”
“What did I see?”
Robert looked at me sadly.
“You saw the night Claire disappeared.”
My breathing became shallow.
“No.”
“You were brought there by your mother.”
“Why?”
“She didn't trust anyone else.”
“What happened?”
Robert hesitated.
“She was afraid Claire was going to hand evidence to the police.”
“What evidence?”
“Financial records. Names. Accounts. Everything Northbridge had been hiding.”
I stared at him.
“And Lily?”
“She had copies.”
My mouth went dry.
“A little girl had evidence?”
“Not knowingly. Claire hid the storage device inside Lily's backpack.”
I remembered the red coat.
The wet playground.
A tiny blue backpack.
A silver zipper.
My sister clutching it to her chest.
Then headlights.
I swallowed.
“Who came?”
Robert's expression changed.
“Three men.”
“Daniel?”
“No.”
“Then who?”
“I don't know all their names.”
“You know one.”
He said nothing.
I stepped closer.
“Robert.”
He finally whispered, “Victor Hale.”
The name meant nothing.
But the way Robert said it made it sound like a death sentence.
“Who is Victor Hale?”
“A Northbridge executive.”
“And what happened that night?”
Robert looked at the photograph.
“Claire tried to escape with Lily.”
My memory sharpened.
A car door.
Someone shouting.
My mother grabbing my shoulders.
“Don't look.”
I'd looked anyway.
Claire had been standing in the rain.
She was holding Lily's hand.
Then the men came.
One grabbed Claire.
Lily screamed.
My mother pulled me behind a wall.
I remembered Lily looking directly at me.
Her mouth formed a word.
“Emma.”
I gasped.
“She knew me.”
Robert nodded.
“You were already close.”
“Why?”
“Because your mother had been caring for Lily for months.”
I shook my head.
“She never told me.”
“She was trying to protect you.”
“From what?”
“From the people who wanted Lily's evidence.”
I looked at the photograph again.
“What happened to her?”
Robert's face went blank.
“Officially?”
“Yes.”
“She died.”
“When?”
“That night.”
I stared at him.
“But the woman on the phone said—”
Robert interrupted.
“People lie.”
“She knew about the photograph.”
“Yes.”
“She knew about Daniel.”
“Yes.”
“She said she was Lily.”
Robert didn't move.
I watched his face.
“You believe her.”
“I believe you need to leave this house.”
“You believe she survived.”
His silence answered.
Suddenly, headlights swept across the ceiling.
A car had stopped outside.
Robert grabbed my arm.
“Down.”
We dropped behind the bed.
A vehicle door slammed downstairs.
Another.
Then another.
My pulse thundered.
“They're here.”
Robert nodded.
“How many?”
“I don't know.”
Footsteps moved through the house.
Slow.
Measured.
Not hurried.
Whoever they were, they weren't afraid.
A man's voice echoed from downstairs.
“Emma!”
I recognized it.
Daniel.
I looked at Robert.
“He came back.”
Robert grabbed my wrist.
“Don't answer.”
“That's my husband.”
“That isn't the man you married.”
Daniel's footsteps climbed the stairs.
“Emma, I know you're up here.”
My chest tightened.
“Why would he come back?”
Robert whispered, “Because he knows the woman called you.”
Daniel reached the top of the stairs.
He stopped.
I could hear him breathing.
“Emma?”
Robert looked around the room.
His eyes landed on the bathroom window.
“Can you climb?”
I nodded.
“Then when I tell you, you go.”
Daniel's hand touched the bedroom door.
It began to open.
Robert shoved the bed toward it.
The door hit the mattress.
Daniel cursed.
“Robert?”
His voice changed.
“You son of a bitch.”
Robert pushed me toward the bathroom.
“Go.”
I climbed through the window.
The rain hit my face.
I dropped onto the narrow porch roof and crouched beneath the gutter.
Behind me, the bedroom door crashed open.
Daniel shouted.
“You don't understand!”
Robert yelled back.
“Then explain the will!”
Silence.
Then Daniel said something so quietly I almost missed it.
“She was never your daughter.”
I froze.
Robert's voice cracked.
“Who?”
Daniel answered.
“Emma.”
My blood went cold.
I couldn't breathe.
Robert shouted, “Don't you dare!”
Daniel continued.
“Your mother lied to her for twenty-eight years.”
I looked down into the darkness below.
My hands shook violently.
Twenty-eight years.
A lie about what?
About my father?
About Lily?
About who I was?
Then I heard another sound behind me.
A soft scrape against the roof.
I turned.
A figure was standing at the far end of the porch.
A woman in a red coat.
She stepped into the pale light from the bedroom window.
Dark hair.
Gray eyes.
A thin scar above her eyebrow.
She looked exactly like the girl in the photograph.
And she whispered my name.
“Emma.”
I stared at her.
“Lily?”
She smiled sadly.
May you like
Then she said the one thing that made my entire world collapse.
“I'm not your sister.”
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