PART 7 — THE PHOTOGRAPH ON LILY’S BED
For one second, I thought I had misunderstood Detective Owens.
“A photograph of what?”
He looked at Lily before answering.
“You and your daughter sleeping.”
Every sound around me disappeared.
The traffic.
The radios.
My mother crying.
Everything.
Lily gripped my arm so hard her fingernails dug into my skin.
“When?”
I asked.
Owens’s expression was grim.
“We don’t know yet.”
“Was it taken inside my house?”
“Yes.”
“How can you tell?”
“It appears to have been taken from inside Lily’s bedroom doorway.”
Lily made a tiny sound beside me.
I turned to her immediately.
“Don’t look at me like that.”
Her eyes were already filling.
“Mom, somebody was in my room.”
“I know.”
“While I was sleeping.”
“I know.”
“I didn’t hear them.”
“You were asleep.”
“What if they touched me?”
The question destroyed me.
I pulled her against me.
“I don’t know.”
That was the truth.
And I hated it.
Detective Owens crouched slightly so he wasn’t towering over her.
“Lily, the officers did not find any obvious sign that someone harmed you.”
She looked at him.
“But you don’t know.”
“No.”
He didn’t lie to her.
I respected him for that.
“But we are treating the house as a crime scene now.”
Lily pressed her face against my shoulder.
My mother whispered, “Daniel.”
I turned.
“What?”
She looked terrified.
“He used to take pictures.”
My stomach tightened.
“What kind of pictures?”
“When we were younger.”
“Of you?”
She nodded.
“Without you knowing?”
“Sometimes.”
Dad, still handcuffed beside the cruiser, closed his eyes.
Owens looked at Mom.
“You never mentioned that.”
“I haven’t thought about it in years.”
“What exactly did he do?”
Mom hugged herself.
“He would show up places I had never told him about.”
“Work?”
“Yes.”
“School?”
“Yes.”
“Home?”
“Yes.”
“And he photographed you?”
She nodded.
“At first I thought it was romantic.”
Her voice cracked.
“I was nineteen.”
I felt anger rise in my chest.
“Then what?”
“Then he started leaving the pictures where I would find them.”
“Like a warning?”
“Yes.”
“What kind of warning?”
Mom looked at me.
“That I could never really get away.”
Owens straightened.
“Then the photograph left on Lily’s bed is likely a message.”
Dad suddenly said, “It is.”
Owens turned.
“How do you know?”
“Because Daniel did the same thing to Donna.”
Mom looked sick.
Dad continued.
“He wants Aaron scared.”
I stared at him.
“He succeeded.”
Dad shook his head.
“No. That isn’t the point.”
“Then what is?”
“He wants you to know he can get close.”
I felt Lily stiffen against me.
Dad looked toward her.
“Too close.”
Owens immediately stepped between us and the cruiser.
“That’s enough.”
Dad said, “You need to move them.”
“We are.”
“Not home.”
“We know.”
“Not to Donna’s.”
“We know.”
“Not anywhere connected to the family.”
Owens stared at him.
“You seem to know a lot about how Mercer thinks.”
Dad laughed bitterly.
“I’ve had thirty years to regret knowing him.”
My phone vibrated.
Unknown number.
I stared at it.
Owens saw my face.
“Do not answer.”
The phone stopped.
Then rang again.
Same number.
Owens held out his hand.
“Give it to me.”
I did.
He passed it to one of the officers.
“Record the number. Preserve everything.”
The ringing stopped.
Then a text arrived.
Owens looked at the screen.
His expression changed.
“What?”
I asked.
He turned the phone toward me.
There were only four words.
YOU FOUND THE WRONG FATHER.
My skin went cold.
Lily read it too.
“Mom…”
Owens said, “Nobody responds.”
A second message arrived.
ASK RICHARD ABOUT 1997.
Dad’s face changed instantly.
I looked at him.
“What happened in 1997?”
He said nothing.
“Dad.”
Nothing.
Mom whispered, “Richard.”
His jaw tightened.
Owens looked at him.
“What happened?”
Dad stared at the pavement.
“Nothing.”
My mother suddenly said, “That’s the year Daniel disappeared.”
Dad looked at her.
“Donna.”
“No.”
Her voice sharpened.
“That’s exactly the year.”
I stared at both of them.
“What happened?”
Mom shook her head.
“I don’t know.”
Dad said, “There’s nothing to know.”
Then another text arrived.
Owens read it silently.
“What does it say?”
He looked at Dad.
Then at me.
RICHARD KNOWS WHY I DISAPPEARED.
My heartbeat accelerated.
Dad’s face drained of color.
I stepped toward him.
“What did you do?”
“Aaron, don’t believe him.”
“What did you do in 1997?”
“He is trying to divide us.”
“We’re already divided.”
Dad flinched.
“Tell me.”
He looked toward my mother.
Then at Lily.
Then down at the cuffs around his wrists.
Finally he whispered, “Daniel didn’t leave because I paid him.”
Mom went still.
“What?”
Dad closed his eyes.
“I made him leave.”
Owens said, “How?”
Dad didn’t answer.
Mom stepped closer.
“Richard.”
He looked at her.
“I caught him outside your apartment.”
Her face tightened.
“When?”
“A week before he disappeared.”
“What was he doing?”
“Watching you.”
Mom’s eyes filled.
Dad continued.
“He had photographs.”
“Of me?”
“Yes.”
“Anything else?”
Dad looked at me.
“You.”
My chest tightened.
“I was a baby.”
“You were eight months old.”
“What did he want?”
“He said he had changed his mind.”
“About what?”
“He wanted custody.”
Mom shook her head immediately.
“No. He never said that to me.”
“He didn’t want you to know.”
“Then how did you know?”
“He told me.”
Owens asked, “What happened between you?”
Dad took a long breath.
“I told him to stay away.”
“And?”
“He laughed.”
Mom whispered, “Richard…”
“He said I wasn’t Aaron’s father and never would be.”
I said nothing.
Dad continued.
“He said eventually he would take Aaron from us.”
My stomach twisted.
“What did you do?”
“I hit him.”
Owens’s expression changed.
“Once?”
Dad didn’t answer.
“How many times?”
“I don’t remember.”
“Did you injure him?”
“Yes.”
“How badly?”
Dad looked ashamed.
“Badly enough that he went to the hospital.”
Mom gasped.
“You never told me.”
“I was protecting you.”
“You keep saying that.”
She was furious now.
“You have built our entire life out of things you decided I shouldn’t know.”
Dad lowered his head.
Owens asked, “Was there a police report?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Daniel didn’t file one.”
“Why?”
Dad hesitated.
“Because I had something on him.”
“What?”
Dad looked at me.
“Evidence.”
“What kind?”
“Fraud records.”
I stared at him.
“You were blackmailing him even then.”
Dad said nothing.
The pattern suddenly became obvious.
Threat.
Secret.
Leverage.
Silence.
Thirty years of the same cycle.
I said, “You didn’t scare Daniel away.”
Dad whispered, “No.”
“You blackmailed him.”
“Yes.”
“With evidence of his crimes.”
“Yes.”
“And he left.”
“Yes.”
Owens asked, “What happened to the evidence?”
Dad looked toward my mother.
“I kept it.”
Mom stared at him.
“Where?”
Dad didn’t answer.
“Richard.”
“In the house.”
Her expression changed.
“Our house?”
“Yes.”
“Where?”
“Behind the basement wall.”
Madison whispered, “What?”
Dad looked at her.
“There’s a storage room behind the furnace.”
Mom shook her head.
“There is no storage room.”
“Yes, there is.”
Everyone went silent.
Dad continued.
“I sealed it years ago.”
My mother looked horrified.
“You built that wall.”
“Yes.”
“What’s behind it?”
Dad swallowed.
“Everything.”
Owens stepped closer.
“Define everything.”
“Old files. Photographs. Bank records. Letters.”
“From Mercer?”
“Yes.”
“How much?”
“A lot.”
“And you never turned any of it over?”
“No.”
Owens turned to one of the officers.
“Get a warrant request moving. Now.”
Dad said, “You don’t need one.”
Owens looked at him.
“What?”
“I consent to the search.”
Mom glared at him.
“You don’t get to consent to my house anymore.”
Owens said calmly, “Ma’am, if you are also an owner, I need your permission.”
She didn’t hesitate.
“Search everything.”
Dad closed his eyes.
Then Lily whispered, “What if Daniel already knows?”
Everyone looked at her.
She continued.
“What if he knows the room is there?”
Dad’s face changed.
“No.”
“How do you know?”
“He couldn’t.”
“But he knew about the camera.”
Dad said nothing.
“He knew about my car.”
Nothing.
“He knew where I slept.”
Still nothing.
Lily looked at me.
“Mom, what if he’s already been inside Grandma’s house too?”
My mother suddenly went pale.
“Oh God.”
“What?”
She grabbed her purse.
“My basement door.”
“What about it?”
“It was open yesterday morning.”
Dad’s head snapped toward her.
“What?”
“I thought you left it open.”
“I didn’t.”
Owens immediately raised his radio.
“Units to the Collins residence. Possible secondary scene. Nobody enters until cleared.”
My mother began shaking.
Dad whispered, “No.”
I looked at him.
“What?”
He was staring at Mom.
“The wall.”
“What about it?”
Dad looked terrified.
“If Daniel found the wall, he knows.”
“Knows what?”
Dad swallowed.
“That I kept the original letter.”
My mother whispered, “What letter?”
He looked at her.
“The one he sent me after Aaron was born.”
I stepped closer.
“What did it say?”
Dad’s face tightened.
“Aaron…”
“What did it say?”
He looked directly at me.
“He said someday he would come back.”
My stomach dropped.
“For me?”
Dad shook his head.
“For both of you.”
“Me and Mom?”
“No.”
He looked at Lily.
“You and your future child.”
Everything inside me went cold.
Lily’s hand slipped into mine.
“What?”
Dad’s voice was barely audible.
“He wrote that if he couldn’t have his family then, he would take the next generation instead.”
My mother whispered, “You never told me.”
“I thought it was madness.”
“It was madness!”
“I know.”
“You kept that from me for thirty years?”
Dad’s voice broke.
“I thought he was gone.”
Before Mom could answer, Owens’s radio crackled.
A voice came through.
“Detective, we’re at the Collins residence.”
Owens answered.
“Status?”
A pause.
Then:
“Basement has been entered.”
Mom covered her mouth.
Owens said, “Forced entry?”
“No.”
Another pause.
“Looks like someone knew where the hidden latch was.”
Dad turned white.
Owens asked, “What’s behind the wall?”
Static.
Then the officer answered.
“Room is empty.”
Dad stared at him.
“What?”
“Almost empty.”
Owens’s eyes narrowed.
“What’s left?”
There was another pause.
“One chair.”
My skin prickled.
“And?”
“A cassette recorder.”
Dad whispered, “No.”
Owens raised the radio.
“Do not touch it.”
The officer answered,
“It’s already playing.”
Nobody moved.
Even through the radio static, we could hear a faint voice.
Male.
Calm.
Older.
Dad looked like he had seen a ghost.
My mother began crying before we could even make out the words.
Then the recording became clearer.
“Richard,” the voice said.
“If you’re hearing this, you finally told Aaron the truth.”
Dad shut his eyes.
The recording continued.
“But I’m guessing you still haven’t told her the most important part.”
I felt my stomach drop.
Owens looked at Dad.
“What part?”
The voice on the recorder answered before he could.
“That Aaron Collins was never the name she was born with.”
I froze.
My mother stopped breathing.
The recording continued.
“And Richard Collins was never the man who legally adopted her.”
I looked at Dad.
He couldn’t look at me.
Then Daniel Mercer’s recorded voice delivered the sentence that shattered everything again.
“Tell her who her real mother is.”
CONTINUE READ NEXT PART… 👇
