Chapter 2 - The Woman Who Wasn't Supposed to Exist
Evelyn locked the nursery door.
“Who is Margaret?” I whispered.
She didn't answer immediately.
The woman downstairs called again.
“Evelyn, I know you're up there.”
Noah stirred against my shoulder.
Evelyn closed her eyes.
“She’s my sister.”
I stared at her.
“Laura’s mother?”
“No.”
The answer came too quickly.
Evelyn moved toward the window and looked down at the driveway.
I followed.
A dark sedan stood behind my car.
“Then whose sister?”
“Mine.”
“That doesn't answer anything.”
“I know.”
The doorknob moved.
Once.
Twice.
“Evelyn?” Margaret called through the door. “We need to talk.”
Evelyn stepped toward it.
I grabbed her arm.
“Are we safe?”
She looked at Noah.
“Yes.”
“That wasn't convincing.”
“She won't hurt the baby.”
“How do you know?”
“Because she came here for him.”
That was even worse.
I took out my phone.
“I’m calling the police.”
“Do it.”
That surprised me.
I dialed.
While I explained the situation, Evelyn remained beside the door.
Margaret stopped trying the handle.
A minute later, I heard her walking away.
Police arrived quickly.
By then, Margaret’s sedan was gone.
So was she.
Officers searched the house.
They found no forced entry.
That meant either Rachel had let Margaret inside or Margaret had possessed a key.
Both possibilities disturbed me.
One officer photographed the kitchen.
The flour.
The sink.
The colander.
The note.
The old sock.
He asked me repeatedly whether Noah had been harmed.
“No.”
“Any indication someone attempted to harm him?”
“No.”
“Then why was he in the sink?”
“I don't know.”
That question became the center of everything.
Why the sink?
Why the flour?
Why the colander?
It looked frightening.
But the more carefully we examined it, the stranger it became.
The sink had been dry.
A folded towel had been placed beneath the blanket.
The colander had been positioned so it never touched Noah.
The flour had been sprinkled on only one section.
And Noah had been asleep.
Whoever had arranged the scene had wanted it discovered.
Evelyn apparently reached the same conclusion.
“It was staged,” she said.
The officer nodded cautiously.
“Possibly.”
“To scare Claire.”
“Or send a message.”
I looked at the note again.
HE WAS NEVER SUPPOSED TO SURVIVE.
“What message?”
Evelyn wouldn't answer.
That evening, Michael returned.
I had met him only twice.
He was thirty-six, tall, dark-haired, and usually so controlled that even when Noah screamed through dinner, Michael simply rolled up his sleeves and warmed another bottle.
That night, he entered like a man expecting disaster.
“Where is he?”
I stood from the sofa.
Noah slept in my arms.
Michael crossed the room and touched his son’s head.
His shoulders dropped.
“Thank God.”
Then he saw Evelyn.
“What are you doing here?”
“Laura called me.”
His expression hardened.
“Of course she did.”
I looked between them.
“You two have a problem?”
Neither answered.
Michael turned toward me.
“Tell me exactly what happened.”
I did.
When I reached the initials inside the sock, his face changed.
“L.M.R.?”
“Yes.”
“Where is it?”
“The police took it.”
He looked at Evelyn.
“You told her?”
“Only Laura’s old name.”
Michael laughed once without humor.
“That's never where it ends with you.”
“Michael.”
“What?”
“You know Margaret came here.”
That silenced him.
I felt increasingly like the only person in a room where everyone else had received the script.
“Who is Margaret?”
Michael walked to the window.
“Someone who should have stayed away.”
“That's not an answer.”
He turned.
“Claire, you were hired to care for Noah.”
“And today I found him in a sink.”
“You did your job. You protected him.”
“I need to know whether I'm protecting him from something.”
Michael rubbed his jaw.
Before he could answer, his phone rang.
Laura.
He put it on speaker.
“Are you home?” she asked.
“Yes.”
“Is Noah okay?”
“He’s fine.”
Her breath shook.
“Claire?”
“I’m here.”
“Thank you.”
“You don't need to thank me.”
“Yes, I do.”
Then Laura asked, “Did you find the sock?”
Silence.
I looked at Evelyn.
Michael slowly sat down.
“How did you know about the sock?” I asked.
Laura began crying.
“I put it there.”
My skin prickled.
“What?”
“Not today.”
She struggled to breathe evenly.
“Laura,” Evelyn said, “explain.”
“When I was pregnant, I found a box in my mother's storage unit.”
“What box?”
“Baby clothes.”
Michael stood.
“Laura, we agreed—”
“No. I'm done agreeing to silence.”
Her voice sharpened.
“I found photographs. Hospital records. Clothes with my initials. And another set with the same initials.”
Evelyn gripped the chair.
“Another set?”
“Yes.”
Laura continued.
“There were two hospital bracelets.”
I felt Noah shift against me.
“What names?” I asked.
“One said Laura Marie Rowan.”
“And the other?”
Laura hesitated.
“Luke Matthew Rowan.”
Nobody spoke.
Twins.
The realization arrived before anyone said it.
“You had a twin brother?” I asked.
“I didn't know.”
Evelyn sank into the chair.
Laura continued.
“My mother told everyone he died shortly after birth.”
“Did he?” I asked.
“That’s what I was trying to find out.”
Michael slammed his palm against the counter.
“And that obsession is why Margaret found us.”
Laura went silent.
I looked at him.
“What does Margaret have to do with it?”
Evelyn answered.
“Margaret was the nurse who assisted during Laura’s delivery.”
My mind struggled to connect the dates.
“You said she was your sister.”
“She is.”
“And she was there?”
“Yes.”
“Then she knows what happened to Luke.”
Evelyn nodded.
“Probably better than anyone.”
I looked at the note.
HE WAS NEVER SUPPOSED TO SURVIVE.
“Is Luke alive?”
Nobody answered.
Laura finally whispered, “I think so.”
Michael closed his eyes.
Then the front door opened.
Rachel walked in.
Her hair was disheveled.
Her face was streaked with tears.
She looked exhausted, but unhurt.
I rushed toward her.
“Where were you?”
Rachel stared at Noah.
“He's okay?”
“Yes.”
She covered her mouth.
“I’m sorry.”
Michael stepped forward.
“What did you do?”
Rachel flinched.
“Margaret contacted me three weeks ago.”
“Why?”
“She said she had information about Laura.”
“What information?”
Rachel reached into her coat.
She removed a small envelope.
“She told me Laura had been lied to her entire life.”
Evelyn stood.
“Rachel, don't.”
Rachel looked at her.
“You knew.”
Evelyn said nothing.
“You knew Luke survived.”
Laura’s voice came through the phone.
“Aunt Evelyn?”
Evelyn's face crumpled.
“I was nineteen.”
Laura whispered, “You knew?”
“I knew something happened. I didn't know everything.”
Michael paced away.
I kept Noah against my chest.
Rachel continued.
“Margaret came here today because she wanted DNA.”
“From Noah?”
“Yes.”
My stomach tightened.
“She asked me to let her take one of his socks.”
“Why put him in the sink?”
Rachel looked genuinely confused.
“I didn't.”
Everyone froze.
“What?”
“I left Noah asleep in his bassinet. Margaret and I argued downstairs. She said she needed something from him. I refused. Then someone knocked at the front door.”
“Who?”
“I don't know. Margaret told me to leave through the garage because she said Michael had hired someone to watch the house.”
Michael stared at her.
“That is insane.”
“I know that now.”
“So you left Noah?”
“For maybe thirty seconds. I thought Margaret was still inside.”
Rachel began crying harder.
“When I came back, they were both gone.”
“Both?”
“Margaret and the person at the door.”
I stared toward the kitchen.
“Then who moved Noah?”
Rachel shook her head.
“I don't know.”
My phone buzzed.
A message from an unknown number.
There was a photograph attached.
It showed our kitchen.
Taken that afternoon.
Noah was visible in the sink.
And standing beside him was someone wearing a dark coat.
The face had been cropped out.
Under the photograph were five words:
ASK MICHAEL ABOUT THE FLOUR.
I slowly raised my eyes.
May you like
Michael was staring at my phone.
And for the first time since I had known him, he looked afraid.
