Chapter 2: The Photograph Nobody Was Supposed to See
David didn't call the police.
He called his brother.
I noticed because his phone screen lit up beside his plate, displaying the name MICHAEL.
He answered without looking away from Jeremy.
"Mike. I need you here. Now.""
Then he hung up.
I stared at him.
"What are you doing?""
"Trying to handle this before it gets worse.""
"Handle what, David?""
He glanced at the others.
"Sarah, our son is having an episode.""
Jeremy pushed his chair backward.
The scraping sound made everyone flinch.
He stood up.
"No.""
David looked at him sharply.
"Sit down.""
Jeremy remained standing.
"No.""
My son had never challenged his father.
Not when David confiscated his toys.
Not when he grounded him for leaving his homework unfinished.
Not even when he cried himself to sleep after Janice disappeared.
But now he stood there with his shoulders squared and his hands shaking.
Margaret began to cry.
"Oh, David. What is happening?""
David ignored her.
He walked around the table.
"Jeremy, listen to me. You don't understand what you're saying.""
Jeremy backed away.
Then he reached into his pocket again.
This time, he removed a small rectangular object wrapped in a piece of cloth.
He placed it on the table.
It was a child's digital camera.
Pink.
Scratched around the edges.
A little white rabbit sticker covered the battery compartment.
My breath caught.
"Where did you get that?""
Jeremy looked at me.
"Her room.""
I recognized it immediately.
It had belonged to Janice.
She had received it for her fifth birthday, two months before the accident.
She used to photograph everything.
Our dog sleeping.
The flowers in the garden.
Jeremy eating spaghetti.
She even photographed the refrigerator because she claimed it looked like a giant robot.
After her disappearance, I searched the house for that camera.
I thought she had lost it at the lake.
I reached for it.
"Jeremy, sweetheart, how long have you had this?""
He held up eight fingers.
Eight years.
I felt my stomach turn.
David stepped forward.
"That camera doesn't prove anything.""
Jeremy moved it toward me.
"Look.""
The battery was nearly dead.
I found the charger in the kitchen drawer and connected it while everyone watched.
The camera's tiny screen flickered.
A collection of photographs appeared.
Most were ordinary childhood pictures.
Janice's stuffed rabbit.
Jeremy sleeping.
The lake.
A blurry photograph of David holding two ice cream cones.
I almost smiled at that one.
Then I reached the final sequence.
There were eleven photographs taken on the day Janice disappeared.
The first showed the twins standing beside the SUV.
The second showed a picnic basket.
The third showed Janice's yellow shoes near the lake.
Then came a photograph of the water.
And another.
And another.
My fingers went cold.
The last photograph was badly tilted.
It showed a silver car parked near a narrow service road behind the lakeside picnic area.
A man stood beside the open passenger door.
His face wasn't completely visible.
But I recognized his clothes.
A dark green jacket.
The same jacket David had worn that morning.
I zoomed in.
A small figure stood beside him.
A little girl.
Yellow shoes.
Pink backpack.
Janice.
"David," I whispered.
He reached for the camera.
I pulled it against my chest.
"Don't touch it.""
"Sarah, you're misunderstanding what you're seeing.""
"Then explain it.""
He looked toward Jeremy.
"Your son has been collecting things. He doesn't understand the difference between what happened and what he imagines happened.""
Jeremy shook his head.
He tapped the camera screen.
Then he pointed at the date displayed beneath the photograph.
March 18.
The day Janice vanished.
My father, Robert, leaned closer.
"Why is there another car?""
Nobody answered.
David rubbed his forehead.
"It was a photograph taken before we went to the lake. We met someone there.""
"Who?"" I asked.
"Someone I knew.""
"Who?""
He hesitated.
"An old friend.""
I felt something inside me break.
"You told the police you were alone with the children.""
David's eyes shifted toward the camera.
"Because I was.""
"Then why is there another man?""
He exhaled.
"Sarah, please. Not tonight.""
I stood.
"No. Not tonight is exactly how we got here.""
Jeremy pulled another folded paper from his pocket.
This one contained a drawing.
A child's drawing, made with colored pencils.
There was a blue car.
A silver car.
A little girl.
A man.
And a large black rectangle beside the silver vehicle.
I recognized the drawing style.
Jeremy had been using the same careful lines since kindergarten.
He pointed to the silver car.
Then to the little girl.
Then he moved his finger toward the black rectangle.
I couldn't understand.
"What is that, baby?""
He picked up a pencil.
Slowly, he wrote two words.
*TRUNK DOOR.*
My mother covered her mouth.
David slammed his palm against the table.
"That's enough!""
Jeremy flinched.
I moved between them.
"Don't you dare shout at him.""
"You're letting him accuse me of something unforgivable!""
"Then tell me what happened!""
David stared at me.
For eight years, I had watched him mourn our daughter.
Or at least, I thought I had.
He had stood at the empty grave.
He had paid for the flowers.
He had told people how much he missed her.
But I remembered something now.
Something small.
Something I had never questioned.
After the accident, David had refused to let me visit the lake.
He said the place would only hurt us.
He had also insisted that Jeremy's bedroom be moved away from Janice's.
He said the twins' room was making our son worse.
I had agreed.
I had packed Janice's belongings into boxes.
I had put her camera, her toys, and her clothes away.
And somehow, Jeremy had kept the one thing that could have changed everything.
A car door slammed outside.
David looked toward the window.
"My brother.""
Michael entered without knocking.
He was fifty-one, six years older than David, and had always been the kind of man who spoke as though he were giving orders even when asking for salt.
He wore an expensive navy coat and carried a leather briefcase.
"What's going on?""
David walked toward him.
"Get them to understand.""
Michael looked around the table.
Then his gaze landed on the pink camera.
His expression changed.
Only for a second.
But I saw it.
"Where did that come from?"" he asked.
Jeremy looked at him.
Then he pointed.
"You.""
Michael blinked.
"Excuse me?""
Jeremy swallowed.
His throat moved painfully.
"You were there.""
Michael's briefcase slipped from his hand.
It hit the floor.
A thick envelope slid out.
I bent down to pick it up.
David grabbed my wrist.
"Leave it.""
I looked at his hand.
Then at his face.
"Let go.""
He did.
I opened the envelope.
Inside were several documents.
A printed photograph.
And a folded letter.
The photograph showed a young girl standing in front of a birthday cake.
She had dark curls.
A small gap between her front teeth.
And a familiar pink rabbit hair clip.
I couldn't breathe.
The girl was older than Janice had been when she disappeared.
Maybe eight or nine.
But there was something about her face.
The shape of her eyes.
The way she tilted her head.
The little dimple on her left cheek.
I looked at Jeremy.
He was staring at the photograph.
Tears ran silently down his face.
He pointed at the girl.
Then he looked at me.
"Janice.""
The room erupted.
Margaret began sobbing.
My father stood so quickly that his chair fell backward.
I looked at David.
"Where is my daughter?""
He didn't answer.
I turned toward Michael.
"Where is she?""
Michael backed away.
"David, you said this was over.""
Those six words changed everything.
David grabbed his brother's coat.
"Shut your mouth.""
But Michael shoved him away.
"You told me the boy wouldn't remember!""
Silence.
Absolute silence.
I felt the floor tilt beneath me.
Jeremy was shaking.
I reached for him.
"What does he mean?""
Michael stared at the camera.
Then at my son.
"He's been silent all these years," he whispered.
"I thought he never saw anything.""
I took one step toward him.
"What did you do to my daughter?""
Michael's eyes filled with tears.
"I didn't take her.""
"Then who did?""
He looked at David.
And before my husband could stop him, Michael said something that made my blood run cold.
"Ask your husband why he was paid to bring Janice to that lake.""
Nobody moved.
David's face had become a mask.
"Michael," he said quietly.
"Think very carefully about what you're saying.""
Michael laughed bitterly.
"Eight years, David. Eight years I've kept my mouth shut.""
"You're drunk.""
"I haven't had a drink in three days.""
"Then you're losing your mind.""
Michael pointed at the photograph.
"That little girl is alive.""
I felt my knees weaken.
"Where?""
He opened his mouth.
But David lunged forward and grabbed him by the collar.
They crashed against the dining-room cabinet.
A glass shattered.
Jeremy screamed without making a sound.
I pulled him behind me.
"STOP!""
David released his brother.
Michael staggered backward, coughing.
Then he looked directly at me.
"Sarah, there's something you need to know.""
I stepped closer.
"What?""
Michael's voice dropped.
"Your husband didn't take Janice to the lake to drown her.""
He looked toward Jeremy.
"He took her there because someone was waiting to collect her.""
And then he reached into his coat.
He pulled out a photograph of a woman standing beside a little girl.
The woman was smiling.
The girl was holding a pink rabbit.
May you like
On the back, written in blue ink, were five words.
*SHE KNOWS HER REAL MOTHER.*
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