Chapter 2 - The Woman on the Phone
Ethan put one finger to his lips.
The doorknob moved again.
"Harper?"
A woman's voice.
Not Evelyn's.
I clutched my mother's photograph.
Ethan moved between me and the door.
He could barely stand, but he still did it.
"Who is it?" I whispered.
He shook his head.
The woman outside spoke again.
"I know you're in there."
Ethan looked toward the dirty window.
Too high.
Too far.
No way out.
Then my phone vibrated.
Evelyn.
I answered without speaking.
"Do not open that door."
My stomach dropped.
"You can hear her?"
"We can see the hallway."
I stared at the phone.
"How?"
"Cameras."
Ethan whispered, "Who is outside?"
A pause.
Then Evelyn said, "Rebecca Grant."
Ethan closed his eyes.
"Your sister?" I asked.
He stared at me.
"How do you know that?"
I held up my cracked phone.
"Internet."
For the first time, I had searched his name.
ETHAN GRANT.
Hundreds of results appeared.
Grant Technologies.
Grant Foundation.
Chicago billionaire injured?
Photographs showed the man beside me wearing tuxedos, standing at podiums and shaking hands with people whose names I recognized from television.
I looked from the screen to his soaked suit.
"You're rich."
"Technically."
"That's a stupid answer."
"Probably."
The woman outside knocked.
"Ethan."
He froze.
"I know you're protecting her."
Harper.
Me.
I backed away.
"Why does she know about me?"
Ethan didn't answer.
"Ethan!"
Rebecca's voice hardened.
"Open the door before someone else finds you."
Ethan finally spoke.
"How did you find us?"
"I followed the people who were following you."
That wasn't comforting.
"Are you alone?"
"Yes."
Evelyn interrupted through my phone.
"She's telling the truth."
I stared at Ethan.
He unlocked the door.
A woman entered.
She looked around forty, wearing a dark coat, soaked hair pulled behind her face.
Her eyes went immediately to the twins.
Then to me.
She stopped.
"Oh my God."
I hated that reaction.
"What?"
Rebecca looked at Ethan.
"She looks exactly like Laura."
There it was again.
My mother.
"Everybody here apparently knew my mother except me."
Rebecca's face changed.
"I'm sorry."
"No. Don't be sorry. Explain."
Ethan sat down.
Rebecca looked at the photograph in my hand.
"You gave it to her?"
"She found it."
"I demanded it."
Rebecca almost smiled.
"Definitely Laura's daughter."
I folded my arms.
"Who's Daniel?"
The smile vanished.
Nobody answered.
"Seriously?"
Ethan looked at Rebecca.
Rebecca looked at the floor.
I picked up the twins.
"I'm leaving."
"Harper—"
"No. I'm going to the police."
Rebecca stepped aside immediately.
That surprised me.
"Okay."
Ethan stared at her.
"Rebecca."
"She's eleven, Ethan. We're not keeping her prisoner."
"I didn't mean—"
"I know."
Rebecca looked at me.
"If you want to leave, I'll take you to the police myself."
I studied her.
"Really?"
"Really."
"Then let's go."
Ethan lowered his head.
Rebecca opened the door.
Then she stopped.
"There's one thing you should know first."
Of course there was.
"What?"
"The police already have a missing-person report for you."
I stared.
"What?"
"Filed forty-three minutes ago."
"By who?"
"Your foster guardian."
My stomach sank.
Carol.
I'd been living with Carol Watkins for eight months.
She wasn't cruel.
She wasn't warm either.
Mostly, we stayed out of each other's way.
But she wouldn't report me missing after forty-three minutes.
Sometimes I came home two hours late and she barely noticed.
"That's impossible."
Rebecca showed me her phone.
There it was.
HARPER MILLER, AGE 11.
Missing.
Last seen leaving school.
But that wasn't the strange part.
The report claimed I'd disappeared at 3:20.
It was now 7:11.
I had texted Carol at 4:08.
Running late. Library.
She'd replied with a thumbs-up.
"Somebody filed that before I was missing."
Rebecca nodded.
"Exactly."
I looked at Ethan.
"Was this planned?"
"No."
"You were waiting for me."
"Not like this."
"What does that mean?"
He looked at the twins.
"The warehouse was supposed to be a meeting point."
"With me?"
"Eventually."
"Why?"
"Because of your mother."
I wanted to scream.
Instead, I sat down.
"Tell me."
Ethan looked at Rebecca.
She nodded.
"Laura Miller worked for my family fifteen years ago," Ethan began.
"Doing what?"
"She was a systems analyst."
"Computer stuff?"
"Yes."
"Then how did she know you?"
"She saved my life."
I frowned.
"Literally?"
"Literally."
He told me about a winter night twelve years earlier.
A faulty heating system had filled one of the Grant family's lake houses with carbon monoxide.
Laura noticed the sensor data remotely and called Ethan before anyone else understood what was happening.
She saved Ethan.
Rebecca.
And another person.
Daniel.
"Who is Daniel?"
Ethan looked at me.
"My brother."
I glanced at Rebecca.
"You have another brother?"
"Had," she said quietly.
"Had?"
"Daniel disappeared eleven years ago."
Eleven.
My age.
Something cold moved through me.
"When?"
Ethan answered.
"Three weeks before you were born."
I couldn't speak.
My phone rang.
Carol.
I stared at it.
Rebecca said, "Don't answer."
"She's my guardian."
"Harper—"
I answered.
"Hello?"
Carol sounded breathless.
"Harper! Where are you?"
"Why did you report me missing before I was missing?"
Silence.
"Who told you that?"
Wrong answer.
"Where are you?" Carol asked.
"Why?"
"I'll come get you."
"Where did you think I was when you filed the report?"
Another silence.
Then a man's voice sounded faintly behind her.
"Keep her talking."
I looked at Ethan.
He'd heard it too.
"Carol, who's with you?"
The line disconnected.
Rebecca swore under her breath.
Ethan tried to stand.
"We need to move."
"Where?"
"Somewhere Laura prepared."
"My mother has been dead for six years."
"That doesn't mean she didn't prepare for this."
Rebecca helped Ethan downstairs.
I carried the girl.
She carried the boy.
A dark sedan waited behind the building.
Not the SUV.
Evelyn had sent it.
We drove through Chicago.
Nobody spoke for several minutes.
Finally, I looked at Ethan.
"Did my mother know Daniel after he disappeared?"
"Yes."
"How?"
"That's what she was trying to protect."
"Protect from who?"
Ethan stared through the rain-covered window.
"My father."
Grant.
The billionaire family.
I knew enough now to understand that Ethan's father, Charles Grant, had built the company.
He'd died four years earlier.
"What did your father do?"
"We don't know everything."
"That's another way of saying you won't tell me."
Rebecca turned from the front seat.
"Harper, sometimes adults hide things because they're afraid."
"That doesn't make it better."
"No."
She looked ashamed.
"It doesn't."
We stopped outside an old brick apartment building.
I recognized it immediately.
"No."
Ethan looked at me.
"What?"
"My mom and I lived here."
Before foster care.
Before hospitals.
Before the funeral.
Apartment 4C.
The superintendent let us inside after Rebecca showed him something on her phone.
We climbed four flights.
My legs felt like rubber.
The hallway hadn't changed.
Same ugly carpet.
Same yellow lights.
Apartment 4C was empty.
Rebecca had a key.
"Where did you get that?"
"Laura gave it to Evelyn."
"When?"
"Years ago."
The apartment smelled like dust.
No furniture.
No curtains.
But I remembered everything.
Mom cooking.
Mom singing badly.
Mom sitting on the floor helping me make a cardboard castle.
I walked to my old bedroom.
There was a mark on the doorframe.
H — 5 YEARS.
Mom had measured my height.
I touched it.
For a moment, I was five again.
Then I noticed something.
A second mark.
D — 6'1".
It was much higher.
"Who's D?"
Nobody answered.
I looked at Ethan.
"Daniel?"
His face confirmed it.
"He was here."
"Yes."
"When?"
"After he disappeared."
"Why?"
"Because Laura was hiding him."
I backed away from the wall.
"Why would my mother hide your brother?"
Ethan swallowed.
"Because Daniel was being hunted."
"By your father?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
"Because he discovered what Charles was doing."
"What was he doing?"
Rebecca opened her mouth.
My phone buzzed.
Unknown sender.
One photograph.
I opened it.
My mother.
Alive.
Not six years ago.
The timestamp at the bottom read:
NOVEMBER 14, 2025.
Yesterday.
I couldn't breathe.
Beneath the photograph was a message.
HARPER, DO NOT TRUST ETHAN GRANT.
I slowly raised my eyes toward Ethan.
Then another message appeared.
May you like
I AM COMING FOR YOU.
—MOM
