Chapter 9 - TOMORROW
Police moved us again.
No relatives.
No familiar houses.
A protected hotel under assumed names.
Lily thought we were having a sleepover.
I let her believe it.
She built a blanket fort.
Ordered chocolate milk.
Watched cartoons.
Meanwhile, six armed officers rotated through the hallway outside our room.
At 9:30 P.M., Lily crawled beside me.
“Daddy?”
“Yeah?”
“Are we hiding?”
I couldn’t lie anymore.
“A little.”
“From Vanessa?”
“Yes.”
“Is she mad?”
“She might be.”
“Because I told?”
“No. Because she got caught.”
Lily thought about that.
Then said:
“Good.”
For the first time in days, I almost smiled.
At 10:17 P.M., Cole called.
“We found Diane.”
“Where?”
“Bus station.”
“Did you arrest her?”
“She ran.”
My chest tightened.
“She escaped?”
“She got into a car. We lost it in traffic.”
“What about Vanessa?”
“No confirmed location.”
I looked at Lily.
“Then we’re not safe.”
“You’re as safe as we can make you.”
That sentence did not comfort me.
At midnight, someone knocked on the hotel door.
Three slow knocks.
Every officer in the hall moved.
“Police!”
Silence.
They opened the door across from ours.
Nobody.
But an envelope had been pushed underneath.
Addressed to me.
Inside was a childhood photograph.
Vanessa, maybe eight years old.
Standing beside Diane.
On the back:
ASK YOUR FATHER WHAT HE DID.
I read it three times.
My father?
At 12:20 A.M., I called him.
“Dad, did you ever know anyone named Diane Blake?”
Silence.
“Dad?”
“Where did you hear that name?”
My stomach dropped.
“You know her.”
Another long silence.
Finally:
“Yes.”
“How?”
“She worked for me.”
My father owned a construction company for thirty years.
“When?”
“About twenty-five years ago.”
“Was there anything between you?”
“No.”
Too fast.
“Dad.”
He exhaled.
“Your mother and I were separated for six months.”
I sat down.
“Oh my God.”
“It was brief.”
“Did you have an affair with Diane?”
“Yes.”
“And?”
“She became pregnant.”
The room seemed to tilt.
“What happened to the baby?”
“She told me she lost it.”
I stared at the photograph of young Vanessa.
Eight years old.
Dark hair.
Brown eyes.
My father’s brown eyes.
“No,” I whispered.
My father understood before I said it.
“Ryan?”
I looked at the date written on the back of the photograph.
Vanessa would have been born roughly nine months after my father’s affair.
Cole arrived twenty minutes later.
DNA testing from Vanessa’s arrest confirmed it.
Vanessa was not just my wife.
She was my half-sister.
I ran to the bathroom and threw up.
Every moment of our marriage became poison.
Every kiss.
Every night.
Every promise.
Cole stood in the doorway.
“Ryan, there’s one more thing.”
I wiped my mouth.
“Stop saying that.”
“The circled date on Diane’s calendar isn’t just tomorrow.”
“What is it?”
“It’s Vanessa’s birthday.”
I stared at him.
Cole continued.
“And we found an old diary entry from Diane.”
He showed me a photograph.
A single handwritten sentence:
ON HER THIRTY-FOURTH BIRTHDAY, SHE WILL FINALLY HAVE THE CARTER FAMILY THAT SHOULD HAVE BEEN MINE.
May you like
Then the hotel fire alarm began screaming.
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