Chapter 3
The rain seemed to stop all at once.
James slowly lowered the newspaper clipping.
His mind refused to accept what Sarah had just said.
"What do you mean..."
"...who raised them?"
Sarah swallowed hard.
"I handled part of the insurance investigation."
"I read every report."
"There was only one body recovered."
"It was identified as Laura."
Eli frowned.
"Mom died last winter."
Sarah looked at him.
"No..."
"The records say your mother died ten years ago."
Silence.
The children exchanged confused glances.
James knelt beside Eli.
"Son..."
"Tell me about your mother."
Eli smiled faintly.
"She baked bread."
"She sang while she cleaned."
"She always read to Mia before bed."
James closed his eyes.
That was Laura.
Exactly as he remembered her.
"What did she look like?"
Eli immediately reached into his backpack.
He carefully removed a worn family photograph.
"There."
James took it.
His heart nearly stopped.
The woman in the picture...
Was Laura.
Older.
Thinner.
But unmistakably Laura.
Sarah stared at the photograph.
"Impossible..."
James turned the picture over.
On the back, in Laura's handwriting, were four words.
"Summer Festival — Last Year"
Sarah's hands began shaking.
"That can't be."
"If this photo was taken last year..."
"...then the woman who died in the apartment fire..."
"...wasn't Laura."
James immediately called his attorney.
"I want every record from that fire reopened."
The attorney hesitated.
"James..."
"That case was closed years ago."
"Then open it."
"I don't care what it costs."
Two hours later...
They sat inside James's office.
Old investigation files covered the conference table.
Fire reports.
Medical records.
Police photographs.
Sarah carefully compared every document.
Then suddenly stopped.
"James..."
"Look at this."
The victim had been identified using...
A silver necklace.
James froze.
"The necklace..."
Sarah nodded.
"It matched the one Laura always wore."
James looked toward Eli.
The boy quietly held up the necklace around his own neck.
The exact same design.
Same engraving.
Same scratches.
James whispered,
"There were two."
A memory flooded back.
On Laura's eighteenth birthday...
He had commissioned identical necklaces.
One for himself.
One for her.
She had laughed and said,
"So no matter where life takes us..."
"We'll always carry the same piece of home."
James had forgotten.
The police hadn't.
Sarah slowly closed the file.
"The investigators identified the body by the necklace."
"But they never confirmed her identity with DNA."
James looked stunned.
"So..."
"They buried the wrong woman."
Sarah nodded.
"It appears so."
Eli suddenly spoke.
"My mom never let anyone photograph her."
James looked surprised.
"Why?"
"She said..."
"...some people were still looking for her."
James frowned.
"Did she ever tell you who?"
Eli nodded.
"The bad man."
The room fell silent.
James leaned forward.
"What bad man?"
Eli's small hands tightened around the necklace.
"He always found us."
"We moved every few months."
"Mom said..."
"'If he ever sees us...'"
"'...we run.'"
James felt a chill.
"Did she ever tell you his name?"
Eli slowly nodded.
"I wasn't supposed to say."
James gently replied,
"You can tell me."
The boy looked at him.
Then whispered one word.
Victor.
James went completely pale.
Sarah's face lost all color.
"No..."
she whispered.
"It can't be."
James slowly stood.
"You know him?"
Sarah nodded.
"Victor Kane."
"The man convicted of setting the apartment fire."
James frowned.
"He died in prison."
Sarah slowly shook her head.
"No."
"He escaped during a prison transport six months ago."
James stared at her.
"What?"
"The police never released it publicly."
"They believed he had fled the country."
At that exact moment...
James's phone rang.
It was an unknown number.
He answered.
A distorted voice spoke only one sentence.
"You're looking for Laura."
James's heart pounded.
"Who is this?"
The caller laughed softly.
Then said something that made every person in the room freeze.
"Tell Eli..."
"...his mother says it's finally safe to come home."
The line went dead.
James looked slowly toward the children.
Eli was already crying.
Because he recognized the voice.
Not the man speaking...
But the woman who had whispered in the background.
It was the voice that had tucked him into bed every night.
His mother.
May you like
Laura.
Alive.
