Chapter 4 - THE HOUSE IN CONNECTICUT
We didn’t call Victoria.
We didn’t warn the Harrisons.
Not immediately.
First, I called a man named Marcus Shaw.
Marcus had been head of security for Cole Capital for eleven years.
Former FBI.
Forty-eight years old.
Unimpressed by wealth.
Almost impossible to frighten.
When I showed him the messages, he stopped treating the situation like a domestic scandal.
“This is organized.”
“By Vale?”
“Maybe.”
“And Victoria?”
“Maybe she’s a participant.”
He stared at the phone.
“Maybe she’s also running from the same man.”
That possibility angered me.
I didn’t want Victoria to be complicated.
I wanted her to be evil because simple evil was easier to hate.
Marcus made three calls.
Within forty minutes, we learned Greenfield Academy was real.
So were Thomas and Claire Harrison.
Thomas taught American history at a private high school.
Claire was a pediatric physical therapist.
They had one daughter.
Sophie Harrison.
Age four.
No public birth record connected Sophie to Claire.
That didn’t prove anything.
But it was enough.
I wanted to drive to Connecticut immediately.
Marcus stopped me.
“If whoever texted you can see inside the hospital, assume they’re watching your vehicles.”
“So what?”
“So we don’t lead them to the child.”
We switched cars inside a parking garage.
Emily stayed behind until Caleb regained consciousness.
I intended to go alone.
She refused.
“I’ve spent four years looking for Sophie.”
“Your nephew is in surgery.”
“He’d tell me to go.”
As if summoned by the words, a nurse appeared.
“Caleb is awake.”
Emily ran.
I followed more slowly.
Caleb looked tiny beneath the hospital blankets.
He was twelve.
I had expected younger.
His skin was pale and tubes surrounded him.
Emily kissed his forehead.
“You scared me.”
He managed a weak smile.
“Sorry.”
“You’re never allowed to do that again.”
“Okay.”
He looked past her.
At me.
“Daniel Cole?”
I approached.
“How do you know me?”
“My mom showed me pictures.”
Emily sat beside him.
“Caleb, we found her letter.”
His eyes closed.
“I know.”
“You knew?”
“She told me not to give you the bag unless something happened.”
“Where is Sophie?”
He opened his eyes.
“With the Harrisons.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because Mom said Dr. Vale would hurt you.”
Emily began crying again.
Caleb reached toward her.
“Don’t cry.”
She held his fingers carefully.
I asked, “When did you last see Rachel?”
Caleb’s face changed.
“Four years ago.”
“Did she leave?”
He shook his head.
“She came to my bedroom at night.”
I waited.
“She said we were playing a game. She told me to hide in the closet and count to one thousand.”
Emily leaned forward.
“You never told me this.”
“I was scared.”
“What happened?”
“I heard men downstairs.”
My skin prickled.
“Men?”
“One was Dr. Vale.”
“How do you know?”
“I remembered his voice from the hospital.”
“What did he say?”
Caleb swallowed.
“He told Mom she should’ve stayed quiet.”
Emily squeezed his hand.
“And then?”
“A door slammed.”
“Did you see her leave?”
“No.”
Caleb’s eyes filled.
“I heard her scream.”
Emily made a sound I will never forget.
A wounded, broken sound.
Caleb continued.
“Then someone said, ‘Take her to the lake house.’”
I looked at Marcus.
He was already typing.
“Which lake house?”
Caleb closed his eyes.
“I don’t know.”
But I did.
Arthur Vale owned a vacation estate on Lake Candlewood.
Connecticut.
Less than forty miles from Fairfield.
Marcus stared at me.
“You sure?”
“I’ve been there.”
“When?”
“My wedding weekend.”
Emily looked at me.
“Victoria’s godfather?”
“He hosted our rehearsal dinner.”
The memory turned my stomach.
Arthur hugging me.
Arthur raising champagne to us.
Arthur delivering my children.
Arthur helping Victoria erase one.
We left an agent with Caleb and Emily.
This time Emily agreed.
Marcus and I drove north.
We reached the Harrisons’ neighborhood shortly before sunset.
Quiet street.
Maple trees.
Bicycles on lawns.
It looked like the kind of place where terrible secrets shouldn’t exist.
Thomas Harrison answered the door.
He recognized my name.
Not my face.
“Can I help you?”
“My name is Daniel Cole.”
“Yes?”
“I need to speak to you about Sophie.”
His expression changed.
The door began closing.
Marcus put his hand against it.
“We’re not here to hurt anyone.”
Thomas shouted, “Claire!”
A woman appeared behind him.
She saw me.
And started crying.
That confirmed it.
“You knew,” I said.
Claire whispered, “We always knew someday.”
Thomas wrapped an arm around her.
I struggled to keep my voice level.
“Is Sophie here?”
“No.”
My heart dropped.
“Where is she?”
“School.”
“It’s after six.”
“Dance class.”
Marcus swore.
“Address?”
Thomas gave it.
We ran.
The studio was eleven minutes away.
We made it in seven.
Police cars were already outside.
A teacher stood crying near the entrance.
Parents crowded around.
I jumped from the SUV.
“What happened?”
A police officer blocked me.
“Sir, stay back.”
“My daughter may be inside.”
He looked confused.
A woman shouted from behind him.
“Someone took Sophie!”
Everything slowed.
“Who?”
The dance teacher wiped tears from her face.
“A woman.”
“What woman?”
“She said she was Sophie’s aunt.”
“What did she look like?”
“Tall. Dark hair. Cream-colored dress.”
Victoria.
Thomas arrived behind us.
Claire screamed.
“No!”
The officer asked, “You know her?”
I stared at the empty studio.
“Yes.”
My phone rang.
Victoria.
I answered instantly.
“Where is she?”
My wife laughed softly.
“Now you finally understand how it feels.”
“Victoria.”
“You took my children away from me.”
“They’re safe.”
“You turned everyone against me.”
“You tied Emily to a bed.”
“She deserved it.”
“Where is Sophie?”
Silence.
Then a small voice came through the phone.
“Mommy Claire?”
My heart broke.
Victoria spoke again.
“She looks like him, Daniel.”
“Like who?”
“The man who destroyed our marriage.”
“Who is the father?”
“You still don’t understand?”
“No.”
She laughed through tears.
“You’ve had dinner with him a hundred times.”
The call ended.
Marcus looked at me.
“Who?”
I already knew.
I just didn’t want to say it.
Only one man had been close enough to Victoria.
Close enough to control the hospital.
Close enough to manipulate medical records.
Close enough for her to trust with an impossible secret.
Dr. Arthur Vale.
I looked at Marcus.
“Sophie isn’t his goddaughter.”
May you like
My voice turned cold.
“She’s his daughter.”
