Chapter 1 - The Girl Who Called Me Mommy
A little blonde girl ran between the wedding tables and grabbed Jessica's hand.
"Mommy!"
Mike Bennett turned toward her and saw the photograph in the child's fist.
Three words were written across its back.
DON'T TRUST CLAIRE.
Mike suddenly stopped smiling.
For several seconds, nobody moved.
Jessica Bennett could hear the faint clink of silverware somewhere behind her, followed by the abrupt silence of a hundred people realizing something had happened but not yet understanding what.
The little girl's fingers tightened around Jessica's hand.
Jessica stared down at her.
She was perhaps six years old, maybe seven. Long blonde hair fell over the shoulders of her pale champagne dress. Her blue eyes were bright with relief.
Not confusion.
Not uncertainty.
Relief.
As though she had spent the entire afternoon searching for Jessica.
"Mommy," the girl repeated softly.
Jessica's heart slammed against her ribs.
"I'm sorry, sweetheart," Jessica said carefully. "I think you have me confused with someone."
The child's smile disappeared.
"No."
Across from them, Mike looked as though someone had struck him.
Five minutes earlier, Jessica would have enjoyed seeing him speechless.
Five years earlier, she would have prayed for it.
Mike Bennett had always possessed the infuriating ability to make every room feel as though it belonged to him. Their marriage had lasted six years, and during most of those years Jessica had slowly learned how a charming man could turn cruelty into something that sounded almost reasonable.
When their divorce became final, Mike had told mutual friends that Jessica was "too emotional."
That was the polite version.
The truth was that Jessica had discovered Mike was having an affair.
The woman standing beside him now had entered his life shortly afterward.
Claire Whitmore.
Beautiful.
Blonde.
Elegant.
And, until thirty seconds ago, very pleased to see Jessica uncomfortable.
Claire wasn't smiling anymore.
Her hand covered her mouth.
Her face had gone nearly colorless.
Jessica noticed.
More importantly, Mike noticed Jessica noticing.
"Whose kid is this?" Mike demanded.
His voice was sharper than necessary.
The girl flinched.
Jessica immediately stepped between them.
"Don't talk to her like that."
Mike blinked.
"I wasn't—"
"You were."
The old Jessica might have allowed him to finish.
The woman Jessica had become during five years without him didn't.
She crouched beside the child.
"What's your name?"
The girl hesitated.
"Lily."
"Okay, Lily. I'm Jessica."
"I know."
Jessica's stomach tightened.
Behind them, the bride and groom had stopped near the floral arch. Guests whispered across the rooftop reception.
Jessica ignored them.
"How do you know me?"
Lily looked toward Claire.
Claire took one involuntary step backward.
That single movement told Jessica more than any answer could have.
"Lily?" Jessica asked.
The girl raised the photograph.
"I have this."
Jessica took it.
The picture was old enough that its corners had softened.
Three people stood in front of a lake house.
One was Jessica.
She recognized the photograph immediately.
It had been taken almost seven years earlier, during the last summer when she and Mike had still pretended their marriage could be saved.
Mike stood beside her.
And between them stood another woman.
Jessica's younger sister.
Emily.
Jessica stopped breathing.
Emily had died four years ago.
A car accident.
At least, that was what Jessica had always believed.
"Where did you get this?"
Lily pointed toward the photograph.
"Mom gave it to me."
Jessica looked at her.
"Your mother?"
Lily nodded.
"What's your mother's name?"
Before Lily could answer, Claire stepped forward.
"She's confused."
Jessica slowly stood.
Claire tried to smile.
It failed.
"Children get confused," Claire continued. "She probably saw Jessica somewhere and—"
"How do you know her name?"
Claire froze.
Jessica hadn't introduced herself loudly enough for Claire to hear.
Mike looked between them.
"Claire?"
Claire's eyes flickered toward him.
"I heard Jessica say it."
"No, you didn't," Jessica said.
Mike's jaw tightened.
Jessica looked again at the photograph.
Emily.
The sight of her sister reopened something Jessica had spent four years trying to close.
Emily had been twenty-eight when she died.
Funny.
Impulsive.
Protective.
And, during Jessica's divorce, strangely distant.
Jessica had believed Emily was simply overwhelmed by problems of her own.
Then came the accident.
A highway.
A burned vehicle.
A funeral with a closed casket.
Jessica remembered standing beside her parents while rain struck the church windows.
She remembered Mike attending the funeral even though their divorce had already become bitter.
And she remembered Claire.
Claire had been there too.
Jessica hadn't thought much about it then.
Now she did.
"Where's your mother, Lily?"
The child's eyes lowered.
"I don't know."
Something cold moved through Jessica.
"What do you mean?"
"She told me to wait."
"Where?"
"In the room downstairs."
Claire suddenly said, "Mike, we need to go."
Mike stared at her.
"What?"
"Now."
It was the first time Jessica had ever seen genuine fear on Claire Whitmore's face.
Mike apparently saw it too.
"Why?"
Claire grabbed his arm.
"Please."
He pulled away.
"No. A kid just ran up to my ex-wife calling her Mommy, you're acting like you've seen a ghost, and apparently you know who she is. So nobody's going anywhere until somebody explains this."
Lily moved closer to Jessica.
Jessica felt the child's small shoulder against her hip.
"Why did you call me Mommy?" Jessica asked.
Lily looked confused by the question.
"Because Mom told me to."
The rooftop seemed to disappear around Jessica.
"What?"
Lily pointed at the photograph.
"She said if anything happened, I should find the woman in the blue dress."
Jessica glanced down at herself.
Her powder-blue gown.
A dress she had purchased only three weeks earlier.
Nobody except the bride and a few friends knew what she planned to wear.
"Your mother told you what dress I'd be wearing?"
Lily nodded.
"When?"
"This morning."
Jessica looked at Claire.
Claire shook her head.
"Jessica, don't."
Those two words were almost a confession.
"Don't what?"
"This isn't what you think."
"I don't even know what I think."
Mike stepped toward Claire.
"Who is Lily?"
Claire's lips parted.
Nothing came out.
Jessica turned the photograph over.
The message on the back was written in black ink.
DON'T TRUST CLAIRE.
But underneath those words, nearly hidden by Lily's thumbprint, Jessica saw something else.
A date.
Today's date.
Jessica's pulse accelerated.
The photograph itself was seven years old.
The writing wasn't.
"Who wrote this?"
Lily whispered, "Mom."
Jessica crouched again.
"Sweetheart, what's your mom's name?"
Lily glanced toward Claire.
Then toward Mike.
Claire whispered, "Please."
Lily answered.
"Emily."
Jessica felt the world tilt.
Mike's expression emptied.
"No."
Jessica couldn't speak.
Lily looked frightened now.
"My mommy is Emily."
Jessica grabbed the edge of the nearest chair to steady herself.
Her sister had been dead for four years.
She had attended the funeral.
She had watched their parents place flowers beside Emily's coffin.
Impossible.
And yet the child standing beside her had Emily's eyes.
Jessica hadn't noticed it at first.
Now she couldn't stop seeing it.
The shape.
The color.
Even the slight crease between Lily's eyebrows when she was frightened.
Jessica looked at Mike.
He had seen it too.
"No," Mike repeated.
Claire backed away.
Jessica stood.
"You knew."
Claire shook her head.
"You knew something."
"Jessica—"
"Why are you afraid of this child?"
"I'm not."
"Liar."
The word came from Mike.
Claire turned toward him.
Mike's anger had vanished.
What replaced it was worse.
Suspicion.
"You know her."
Claire swallowed.
"I can explain."
"Then explain."
Several guests pretended not to listen.
The bride finally approached.
"Jessica?"
Jessica barely heard her.
Her attention remained on Claire.
Claire lowered her voice.
"Not here."
Jessica almost laughed.
Five minutes earlier, Claire had enjoyed humiliating her in front of everyone.
Now privacy suddenly mattered.
"Here is perfect."
"Jessica, please."
"Who is Lily?"
Claire looked toward the elevators.
Jessica followed her gaze.
A man in a dark suit stood near the rooftop entrance.
Jessica hadn't noticed him before.
He wasn't dressed like a guest.
He wasn't watching the bride.
He was watching Lily.
Claire saw him.
Her fear intensified.
"We need to get the child downstairs."
Jessica moved Lily behind her.
"No."
"Jessica, you don't understand."
"Then help me understand."
Claire lowered her voice.
"That girl isn't safe here."
Jessica stared at her.
"From whom?"
Claire's eyes returned to the man by the elevator.
Before she could answer, he disappeared through the doorway.
Jessica's instincts screamed.
She took Lily's hand.
"Come with me."
Mike stepped forward.
"I'm coming too."
Jessica almost objected.
Then she looked at Claire.
"Fine."
Claire grabbed Mike's arm.
"Don't."
He shook her off.
Jessica hadn't seen Mike look at Claire that way before.
"What have you done?"
Claire's eyes filled with tears.
"Nothing."
"Then why are you terrified?"
She couldn't answer.
Jessica led Lily toward the elevators.
Mike followed.
Behind them, Claire remained motionless for several seconds.
Then she followed too.
The celebration resumed in awkward fragments as they disappeared inside.
The elevator doors closed.
Jessica looked at Lily.
"Which room?"
"Mom said downstairs."
"What floor?"
Lily pointed toward the button marked PRIVATE SUITES.
Mike pressed it.
Claire immediately said, "Don't."
Mike turned.
"Why?"
Claire's composure finally cracked.
"Because Emily isn't supposed to be here."
Silence.
Jessica felt Lily squeeze her hand.
"Supposed to be?"
Claire closed her eyes.
Jessica stepped closer.
"You told me my sister died."
Claire opened her eyes.
"I never told you that."
"No. You just stood at her funeral."
Mike looked sick.
The elevator descended.
"Claire," he said quietly, "what does this have to do with you?"
Claire looked at him.
"You really don't know?"
Mike's face changed.
Jessica caught it.
"What?"
He shook his head.
"Nothing."
"Mike."
The elevator chimed.
PRIVATE SUITES.
The doors opened.
A long hallway stretched ahead.
Lily immediately pointed.
"There."
Room 1708.
Jessica walked toward it.
The door stood slightly open.
"Emily?" Jessica called.
Nothing.
She pushed it wider.
A lamp was overturned.
A chair lay on its side.
A woman's purse rested near the bed.
Lily ran toward it.
"Mom's."
Jessica's heart pounded.
Mike entered behind her.
Claire remained in the doorway.
Jessica saw a phone on the carpet.
The screen was cracked.
She picked it up.
A video had been left open.
The thumbnail showed a woman sitting in this exact room.
Jessica's hands began shaking.
She pressed play.
Emily appeared on the screen.
Older.
Thinner.
Alive.
Jessica covered her mouth.
"Jess," Emily said in the recording, staring directly into the camera. "If Lily found you, then something went wrong."
Jessica couldn't breathe.
Mike moved closer.
Emily continued.
"You've been lied to for five years."
Claire whispered, "Turn it off."
Jessica ignored her.
"Start with the divorce," Emily said. "Then ask Mike why he never told you what happened the night you signed the papers."
Jessica slowly looked toward her ex-husband.
Mike had gone white.
The video continued.
"And whatever he tells you, don't let Claire leave."
Jessica turned toward the doorway.
Claire was gone.
Then the hotel room door slammed somewhere down the hall.
Mike ran toward it.
Jessica's phone vibrated.
Unknown number.
One message appeared.
DON'T FOLLOW CLAIRE. STAY WITH LILY.
A second message arrived immediately.
YOUR SISTER IS STILL IN THE BUILDING.
May you like
Then came a third.
BUT SHE ISN'T ALONE.
