Chapter 5: The Night I Could Not Remember
I couldn't stop staring at my mother.
Six years ago, I'd been twenty-eight. I remembered my father's funeral, the black dress I'd worn, the smell of lilies, and my mother's trembling hands as she leaned against me beside the closed coffin.
I remembered going home afterward and sitting on the kitchen floor until Daniel—then my boyfriend—arrived with takeout and held me while I cried.
But October fourteenth?
I remembered nothing.
"Why would I have been in your car?"" I asked.
My mother wiped her cheeks.
"You'd had a terrible argument with your father. You were upset. I came to get you.""
"What argument?""
She shook her head.
"I don't remember exactly.""
"Stop lying!""
The words echoed through the living room.
Detective Harris raised a hand.
"Mrs. Thompson, I need you to answer carefully. Did you take Emily to the warehouse that night?""
"No.""
"Did you take her to the property where the remains were discovered?""
My mother looked at me.
"Yes.""
I stumbled backward and caught the edge of the sofa.
Daniel moved toward me.
I pointed at him.
"Stay away from me.""
He stopped immediately.
Harris pulled out a small notebook.
"Emily, do you remember anything unusual about that night?""
I closed my eyes.
At first, there was only darkness.
Then a sound surfaced.
A car door slamming.
Rain against a windshield.
My mother's voice, sharp and frightened.
Don't look back, Emmy.
I opened my eyes.
"I remember the car.""
My mother began crying harder.
"What else?"" Harris asked.
"There was rain. I was lying down in the back seat. I think I'd been crying.""
"Do you remember where you were going?""
I shook my head.
Then another fragment appeared.
A building with a yellow light above the entrance. The smell of gasoline. My mother's hands gripping the steering wheel.
And a man's voice shouting from somewhere behind us.
Patricia, you can't leave her like this!
I pressed both hands against my temples.
"Stop.""
Daniel took a step forward.
"Emily, breathe.""
"Don't tell me how to breathe!""
Harris waited until I looked at him again.
"Did you recognize the man's voice?""
I swallowed.
"No.""
But I was lying.
I remembered something else.
A silver ring with a small black stone.
My father had worn that ring every day since I was a little girl.
I'd seen it in the yellow light.
I'd seen it on a man's hand reaching toward the car.
"Dad," I whispered.
My mother made a strangled sound.
Harris leaned forward.
"What did you say?""
"I think I saw my father that night.""
Daniel's face drained of color.
Harris immediately stood.
"Officer Miller, I need you to contact the medical examiner. Tell them we may have a witness who saw Richard Thompson alive on the night he disappeared.""
My mother grabbed the detective's sleeve.
"You don't understand. Emily was sick that night. She wasn't thinking clearly.""
Harris gently removed her hand.
"Then we'll establish what she remembers and what she doesn't.""
"No!"" Patricia cried.
"You can't do this to her.""
I stared at her.
"You've spent six years doing something to me. I'm just trying to find out what it was.""
The detective's radio crackled again.
He listened, his expression becoming increasingly grim.
"Understood," he said before switching it off.
"What happened?"" I asked.
"The remains have been moved to the county medical examiner's office. Preliminary examination suggests the person may have been dead for several years.""
My throat tightened.
"And the identity?""
"Not yet confirmed.""
My mother sank into a chair.
Daniel remained standing near the staircase, looking like a man who had just watched his entire life collapse.
Harris turned toward him.
"Mr. Hayes, I'd like to speak with you separately.""
Daniel nodded.
"Of course.""
"Not here. At the station.""
My mother jumped up.
"Daniel, you can't go with them!""
He stared at her.
"Patricia, stop.""
"Tell them what Richard did! Tell them why we had no choice!""
Harris immediately turned back.
"What exactly did Richard do?""
My mother pressed her lips together.
For a moment, I thought she might finally tell us everything.
Instead, she looked at Daniel.
He shook his head almost imperceptibly.
She fell silent.
I felt something cold settle in my chest.
Even now, with the police in our living room and a possible murder investigation unfolding around us, they were still protecting each other.
Harris escorted Daniel toward the door.
Before leaving, my husband turned to me.
"Emily, there's something I need you to know.""
I crossed my arms.
"You've said enough.""
"No. You need to hear this. Whatever you discover about your father, remember that he wasn't the only person who lied to you.""
My mother's face twisted with fear.
"Daniel, don't you dare.""
He ignored her.
"The night your father disappeared, someone called me and told me you were in danger. When I arrived at the property, you were already gone.""
I stared at him.
"You expect me to believe you were there?""
"I was.""
"Why didn't you tell me?""
"Because I found something that night. Something your father had hidden.""
"What?""
Daniel glanced at Detective Harris.
The detective gave him a warning look.
Daniel lowered his voice.
"A photograph.""
"Of what?""
He looked directly into my eyes.
"Your father standing beside another woman.""
I felt my stomach drop.
"What woman?""
Daniel hesitated.
Then he said the name.
"Your biological mother.""
The room fell silent.
My mother made a sound like she'd been struck.
I turned toward her slowly.
"What did he just say?""
She shook her head violently.
"He's lying.""
Daniel's eyes filled with tears.
"Patricia, enough.""
"YOU PROMISED!"" she screamed.
I stared at both of them.
"Promised what?""
My mother backed away from me.
For the first time that afternoon, she looked at me not as a daughter, but as a witness who had become too dangerous to control.
Harris stepped between them.
"Mrs. Thompson, I need you to remain calm.""
She ignored him.
"Emily, please. Whatever Daniel says, you must understand that I raised you. I fed you. I loved you.""
"Did you give birth to me?""
She couldn't answer.
My heart pounded so hard that I could hear it in my ears.
"Mom. Did you give birth to me?""
She closed her eyes.
And in that silence, I finally understood that the truth about my father was only one piece of the nightmare.
Because if Patricia Thompson wasn't my biological mother, then the woman I'd spent my entire life calling Mom had built our family on a lie that began before I could even remember it.
Harris led Daniel outside.
Before the door closed, Daniel looked back at me.
"Find the photograph, Emily. Your father kept it in a safe deposit box. The key is hidden in the estate folder.""
Then he was gone.
I turned toward the folder on the coffee table.
My mother lunged for it.
I grabbed it first.
Something small and metallic fell from the papers and rolled beneath the sofa.
I knelt and retrieved it.
A brass key.
A white tag was attached, bearing the name of a bank in downtown Atlanta and a handwritten number.
May you like
But beneath the number was a message written in my father's unmistakable handwriting.
*EMMY—IF YOU'RE READING THIS, THE WOMAN WHO RAISED YOU HAS ALREADY BETRAYED YOU.*
