Chapter 3 - The Brother Who Was Dead
Emma had told me she was an only child.
Not casually.
Not once.
Repeatedly.
Her father died before we met. Her mother passed away during our first year together. At our wedding, Emma had cried because there was no family walking her down the aisle.
At least, that was the story I knew.
“Tell me everything,” I said.
Sophie sat across from me.
“Michael is Emma’s half brother.”
“Where is he?”
“I don't know.”
“Then how do you know about him?”
“Because I knew Emma before you did.”
The answer irritated me.
“That isn't an explanation.”
“No. It isn't.”
Sophie stared toward the windows.
“Emma’s father, Richard, had another family before he married Emma’s mother. Michael was twelve years older. Emma adored him.”
“Why did she tell me he didn't exist?”
“Because when Emma was nineteen, Michael disappeared.”
“Disappeared?”
“He stole money from their father’s company. At least, that’s what everyone believed.”
“How much?”
“Almost two million dollars.”
I stared at her.
Emma had never mentioned family money.
Sophie noticed my expression.
“You really don't know.”
“Know what?”
“The Carters weren't poor, Daniel.”
Emma’s maiden name.
Carter.
Her father had supposedly run a small accounting practice.
“Richard Carter owned a medical-supply company,” Sophie said. “He sold most of it before Emma finished college. The family had money.”
“How much?”
“I don't know. Enough that two million could disappear without destroying them.”
“And Michael?”
“Richard accused him. Michael vanished before police could question him.”
“Was he charged?”
“Yes.”
“Convicted?”
“No. They never found him.”
I looked at the taxi receipt again.
I’ll get you out.
“Apparently somebody found him.”
Sophie nodded.
I called every number I could find connected to Union Station.
Security.
Rail police.
Customer service.
Eventually, the police obtained footage.
Emma had arrived at 12:31 a.m.
Alone.
She wore her cream maternity coat and carried one small suitcase.
At 12:42, a man approached her.
Tall.
Gray coat.
Baseball cap.
The camera never captured his face clearly.
But Emma did something that shattered every theory that she had been abducted.
She hugged him.
Not politely.
Not cautiously.
She dropped her suitcase and wrapped both arms around him.
The officer paused the footage.
“Do you recognize him?”
“No.”
Sophie whispered, “Michael.”
The footage continued.
Emma and the man walked toward the platform.
Then Emma stopped.
Her hand went to her stomach.
She bent slightly.
Michael caught her elbow.
Even through grainy security footage, I saw panic in his body.
They turned around.
Instead of boarding the train, they left the station.
“Where did they go?”
“We’re checking exterior cameras.”
Twenty agonizing minutes later, we had an answer.
A dark SUV collected them.
Its plates led to a private car service.
The destination was St. Catherine’s Hospital.
Emma had been at a hospital all morning.
I was moving before anyone finished speaking.
St. Catherine’s was twenty-eight minutes away.
I made it in nineteen.
The emergency department was packed with Christmas accidents, coughing children, exhausted nurses, and relatives carrying foil-covered dishes.
I ran to reception.
“Emma Bennett. Pregnant. Eight months.”
The receptionist typed.
Then stopped.
“Yes. She was admitted.”
My knees nearly gave out.
“Is she okay?”
“I’ll call the floor.”
“What room?”
“Sir—”
“I’m her husband.”
She looked at my identification.
A nurse came down ten minutes later.
“Mr. Bennett?”
“Yes.”
“Your wife is stable.”
I closed my eyes.
“And the baby?”
“Stable.”
Air returned to my lungs.
“Can I see her?”
The nurse hesitated.
“Your wife requested no visitors.”
I stared at her.
“I’m her husband.”
“I understand.”
“She’s carrying my child.”
“I understand that too.”
“I need to see her.”
“She specifically listed your name.”
That silenced me.
Sophie arrived behind me.
I sat in the waiting room.
For ninety minutes, I watched strangers walk through double doors that I wasn't allowed to cross.
At 1:16 p.m., the man from the station appeared.
Gray coat.
Tall.
About fifty.
He saw me immediately.
“You’re Daniel.”
I stood.
“You’re Michael.”
He didn't deny it.
“Where is Emma?”
“Safe.”
“Why did you take her?”
“I didn't take anyone.”
“She left with you.”
“She called me.”
The words landed strangely.
“Why?”
Michael studied me.
“Because she had nowhere else she trusted herself to go.”
“She has a home.”
“A house isn't always a home.”
I stepped toward him.
“Be careful.”
Michael didn't move.
“You want to hit me?”
“I want to see my wife.”
“She doesn't want to see you.”
“That’s between Emma and me.”
“No. Right now it’s between Emma and her blood pressure.”
I clenched my jaw.
“What happened?”
“She nearly collapsed outside the station. Her pressure was dangerously high.”
Guilt burned through me.
“Why didn't anyone call me?”
“She begged us not to.”
“Why?”
Michael’s expression hardened.
“Because she thought you'd come.”
“That doesn't make sense.”
“It makes perfect sense if the person you most desperately want is also the person you’re trying to learn to live without.”
I looked away.
Michael sat.
After a moment, I sat opposite him.
“Why did she hide you?”
“That’s Emma’s story.”
“You disappeared.”
His mouth tightened.
“So Richard told everyone.”
“You were accused of stealing.”
“I was.”
“Did you?”
“No.”
The answer came instantly.
“Then who did?”
Michael looked at me for a long time.
“Interesting question.”
“What does that have to do with Emma?”
“More than you realize.”
Before I could ask more, the double doors opened.
Dr. Hayes stepped through.
She had transferred over after hearing Emma had been admitted.
“Daniel.”
I stood.
“How is she?”
“Her pressure has stabilized somewhat. The baby’s heart rate looks reassuring.”
“Can I see her?”
“She asked for Michael.”
My chest tightened.
Michael stood.
Before following Dr. Hayes, he stopped beside me.
“She loved you enough to spend months making excuses for you.”
“Does she still love me?”
Michael looked toward the doors.
“Yes.”
Hope flared.
Then he finished.
“That’s why she had to leave.”
The doors closed behind him.
At 3:40, I was still sitting there when a nurse approached carrying an envelope.
“Mrs. Bennett asked me to give you this.”
I tore it open.
There were several pages.
The first sentence was enough to make my heart stop.
Daniel, Rachel came to see me three days ago.
I kept reading.
She told me something about you that I didn't believe.
May you like
Then I reached the next line.
So she showed me the photographs.
