Chapter 11: The Open Gate
I hit the back door so hard it slammed against the siding.
“Brooke!””
Nothing.
The side gate stood open.
I had closed it that morning.
Maya ran behind me.
“Brooke!””
Claire screamed her name from inside.
I reached the gate and looked down the street.
No Brooke.
No stranger.
No unfamiliar vehicle.
My hands shook as I called 911.
Detective Ramirez was still connected on the other line.
“Do not pursue anyone,” he ordered.
“Units are coming.””
“That’s my daughter.””
“I understand. Give me her description.””
“Sixteen. Five-five. Black hoodie.
Gray pajama pants. White sneakers.””
Claire grabbed my arm.
“She didn’t have shoes on.””
I looked down.
Brooke’s white sneakers sat beside the back door.
My stomach dropped.
“She’s barefoot.””
Police arrived within minutes.
The house filled with radios and footsteps.
An officer searched the yard.
Another checked neighboring properties.
Ramirez arrived personally.
“Who knew Brooke was outside?””
“Everyone in this room.””
Natalie stiffened.
“You think it was me?””
“No,” Ramirez said.
“I think someone was watching the house.””
Maya suddenly pointed toward the fence.
“Dad.””
A small security camera hung beneath the gutter.
The wire had been cut.
I hadn’t noticed.
Ramirez examined it.
“Recently.””
Claire began pacing.
“This is my fault.””
I snapped.
“Not now.””
She stopped.
“I stole Maya’s money. I answered the messages. I gave them exactly what they wanted.””
“And we’ll deal with that.””
“My daughter is missing.””
“Our daughter.””
Claire looked at me.
I didn’t say it to comfort her.
I said it because Brooke needed both of us focused.
Then Maya whispered, “Her watch.””
“What?””
“Brooke’s smartwatch.””
Hope surged through me.
“Can we track it?””
“She leaves location sharing on.””
Maya opened an app.
A dot appeared.
Three blocks away.
Moving.
Ramirez called it in.
We followed in police vehicles.
The signal stopped near a neighborhood park.
Officers spread out.
I saw Brooke’s black hoodie near a bench.
“Brooke!””
Ramirez grabbed me.
“Stay back.””
An officer approached.
Then lifted the hoodie.
Empty.
A smartwatch was wrapped inside it.
Claire made a sound behind me.
Someone had planted it.
My phone buzzed.
Unknown number.
A video.
Ramirez told me not to open it until officers could record the screen.
We opened it together.
Brooke appeared seated inside what looked like an empty garage.
She wasn’t visibly injured.
Her face was wet with tears.
A distorted voice spoke off-camera.
“Claire Bennett Harris has until midnight to bring Rebecca’s original journal to the address she’ll receive.””
Natalie gasped.
The voice continued.
“No police.””
The video ended.
Everyone looked at Natalie.
She clutched the notebook to her chest.
“This?””
Ramirez nodded.
“Apparently.””
Claire reached for it.
“Give it to me.””
“No.””
“That’s my daughter!””
“And this may be evidence against Robert.””
“My daughter is sixteen!””
Natalie’s eyes flashed.
“And my mother spent half her life being silenced!””
“Enough,” I said.
They both stopped.
“We’re not choosing between Brooke and evidence.””
Ramirez nodded.
“We’ll copy the journal.””
Natalie hesitated.
Then handed it over.
Back at the house, detectives photographed every page.
That was when Ramirez found something none of us had noticed.
The final pages weren’t written by Rebecca.
Different handwriting.
Natalie stared at them.
“That’s Thomas.””
One entry was dated three days after Rebecca’s death.
I read it aloud.
“‘She thought the journal would destroy Dad. She never understood that Dad already destroyed us.’”
Another:
“‘Claire escaped. Rebecca didn’t. Natalie doesn’t know. None of them know what happened to Sophie.’”
Maya looked up.
“Sophie again.””
Natalie grabbed the journal.
She found the photograph of herself beside the younger girl.
“I always thought Sophie was a cousin.””
Claire stared at the picture.
Then shook her head.
“No.””
“What?””
“I remember her.””
Natalie looked at her.
“Who was she?””
Claire whispered, “Thomas’s daughter.””
Natalie’s mouth opened.
“My cousin?””
“Yes.””
“What happened to her?””
“I was told she died.””
“Everyone in this family is supposedly dead!””
Natalie’s scream echoed through the room.
Ramirez stepped closer.
“When?””
Claire thought.
“About fifteen years ago.””
“How?””
“Robert said there was an accident.””
Natalie looked at Thomas’s handwriting.
“‘None of them know what happened to Sophie.’”
My phone buzzed again.
An address appeared.
An abandoned storage facility outside Annapolis.
Then another message.
MIDNIGHT.
CLAIRE ALONE.
BRING THE JOURNAL.
Claire looked at me.
“I’m going.””
Ramirez immediately said, “You’re not going alone.””
The plan formed quickly.
Claire would carry the journal.
Police would surround the facility covertly.
I hated every second of it.
At 11:47 p.m., we arrived.
Claire walked toward Unit 38.
The door slowly rolled upward.
Brooke sat inside.
Alive.
“Mom!””
Claire ran forward.
Then a woman stepped from the shadows behind Brooke.
The same woman who had delivered the box.
She looked remarkably like Natalie.
Claire stopped.
“Sophie?””
May you like
The woman smiled.
“Hello, Aunt Claire.””
