Chương 2
Laura was still watching the trooper.
“You need to give me that,” she said.
“No.”
“Emily.”
“No.”
“Please.”
Emily had almost never heard her mother use the word that way.
It made her hesitate.
Then she thought of what Laura had said.
Your real father.
She opened the envelope.
Laura turned.
“Emily.”
Too late.
The first thing Emily pulled out was a Polaroid.
It was faded enough that the sky had turned the color of old dishwater. Laura was in the picture, younger than Emily had ever seen her, holding a baby against her chest.
A man stood beside her.
His face had been partly damaged by age or moisture. One eye and the line of his jaw remained visible. His hand rested against the baby’s blanket.
Emily flipped the photograph over.
There were six handwritten words.
Never let him find our daughter.
Her fingertips went cold.
“Mom… who is this man?”
Laura looked at the picture.
The color left her face.
Outside, O’Connell’s radio broke through the storm with a burst of static.
“Unit twelve, confirmation on your inquiry.”
O’Connell lifted the radio.
“Go.”
A male dispatcher answered, clear despite the interference.
“Confirmed. Rebecca Hale disappeared with her six-month-old daughter.”
Daniel stopped breathing.
Then he looked through the windshield.
Not at Laura.
At Emily.
Emily saw him.
For a moment, father and daughter stared at one another through wet glass while red and blue light moved between them.
She had never wondered whether she looked like Daniel.
People had told her she did.
Mostly they mentioned expressions rather than features. The way both of them frowned at menus. The crooked smile they made when embarrassed. The habit of raising one eyebrow when Laura said something neither believed.
Emily had accepted those comparisons because children accepted the stories adults told them about themselves.
Now Daniel was looking at her as if someone had removed the floor.
O’Connell said quietly, “Daniel.”
Daniel did not turn.
“How old was the daughter?”
The dispatcher answered before O’Connell could stop him.
“Six months at time of disappearance.”
Emily’s birthday was in three weeks.
She would be nineteen.
Daniel knew the arithmetic.
So did she.
Laura reached for the photograph.
Emily pulled it away.
“Don’t.”
Laura’s hand remained suspended between them.
Daniel finally faced O’Connell.
“Who was she hiding from?”
O’Connell hesitated.
He looked down at the old case summary as though hoping the words might have changed.
“Her husband.”
The wind pressed a hard sheet of snow against the side of the SUV.
Inside, Laura did not move.
Neither did Emily.
Outside, Daniel looked toward his wife and seemed, for the first time in eighteen years, uncertain whether he knew the woman looking back.
The checkpoint lamps buzzed overhead.
Then the world began moving again.
A security guard opened the lodge door and shouted to O’Connell that the access road above them had been temporarily closed because a plow had lost traction near the switchback. Somewhere farther up the mountain, a horn sounded. A white Range Rover idled behind the police vehicle, its driver leaning impatiently over the steering wheel.
O’Connell raised a hand toward the waiting cars.
“Close the lane.”
The guard nodded.
Daniel said, “Open the car.”
“Daniel—”
“Open the car.”
O’Connell studied him.
“I need you calm.”
“I am calm.”
He was not.
He walked toward the SUV.
Laura watched him coming.
Emily noticed something else.
Her mother did not unlock the doors.
Daniel pulled the handle.
Locked.
He stared through the glass.
“Laura.”
She remained still.
“Open the door.”
Emily looked from one parent to the other.
“Mom.”
Laura’s hand went to the start button.
Emily heard the engine wake.
Daniel’s expression changed.
O’Connell moved immediately.
“Laura, turn the vehicle off.”
She gripped the steering wheel.
Snow swirled across the checkpoint exit.
A barrier arm had already lowered.
Two resort security vehicles blocked the narrower road beyond it.
There was nowhere to go.
Still, Laura’s foot touched the brake as she shifted into drive.
Emily grabbed her wrist.
“What are you doing?”
Laura looked at her.
For one awful second, Emily saw the possibility that her mother might actually try to drive through the barrier.
Then Laura looked beyond her, at Daniel standing in the snow.
Something in her collapsed.
She shifted back into park.
The locks clicked open.
Daniel pulled the door open so hard it bounced against its stop.
Cold air filled the SUV.
“What the hell are you doing?”
Laura turned the engine off.
“Daniel, listen to me.”
“That is what I have been doing for eighteen years.”
A guest behind the glass raised his phone again.
This time O’Connell stepped directly into his line of sight.
“No recording in the secured checkpoint area. Put it away.”
The man obeyed.
O’Connell looked at Laura.
“Ma’am, step out of the vehicle.”
“Am I under arrest?”
“Right now, I’m trying to establish your identity and make sure nobody does anything stupid in a snowstorm.”
Laura glanced at Daniel.
“He doesn’t know anything.”
Daniel flinched.
O’Connell noticed.
“So you do.”
Laura closed her eyes.
“Not here.”
“You tried to drive away.”
“I moved the gearshift.”
“You started the engine.”
“Because I panicked.”
“That part I believe.”
Emily climbed out before anyone told her to.
The wind pulled at her coat.
She still had the Polaroid in one hand.
Daniel saw it.
“What is that?”
Emily looked at Laura.
Her mother’s face was rigid.
“Emily, don’t.”
It was the wrong thing to say.
Emily handed the photograph to Daniel.
He stared at the image.
“Who’s the baby?”
Nobody answered.
His jaw worked.
He turned the Polaroid over.
Never let him find our daughter.
Daniel stopped moving.
Emily hugged her coat around herself.
“I think it’s me.”
Laura said, “We need to go inside.”
Daniel laughed again, quieter this time.
“We?”
“Daniel.”
“No. Don’t say my name like that.”
A gust drove snow beneath the awning.
May you like
O’Connell took the photograph from Daniel carefully by its edges.
“I’m keeping this with the envelope for now.”
