Chapter 3 - THREE DAYS AGO
I couldn't understand the words.
“What do you mean, taken?”
Camilla opened the door wider.
“Come inside.”
I stepped into the apartment.
It was small but clean.
A child's shoes sat beside the sofa.
A pink backpack rested against the wall.
A stuffed rabbit lay on the floor.
The apartment looked like someone had simply walked out for a moment.
Except there was no child.
“Where is she?”
Camilla locked the door.
“She was staying with my sister.”
“You have a sister?”
“Half-sister.”
“Why wasn't she with you?”
Camilla rubbed her hands together.
“Because I work nights.”
I looked around.
“You're cleaning at the airport.”
“Yes.”
“And you've been raising her alone?”
“Yes.”
“For five years?”
“Yes.”
My chest tightened.
“Why didn't you tell me?”
She looked at me.
“Because I tried.”
“What?”
“I called you.”
“I never got a call.”
“I left messages.”
“On what number?”
“Your old number.”
I shook my head.
“That number was disconnected when I moved.”
“I know that now.”
She walked toward the kitchen.
“There were letters too.”
“What letters?”
“Three.”
I stared at her.
“I never received them.”
She looked at me sadly.
“I know.”
I felt the anger rising again.
Not at her.
At everyone.
My mother.
Charlotte.
The years.
“Who knew about Emilia?”
Camilla hesitated.
“My mother.”
“Anyone else?”
“My sister.”
“Your doctor?”
“Yes.”
“Laura?”
“Yes.”
“And your mother?”
Camilla nodded.
“She helped me at first.”
“What changed?”
Camilla looked toward the child's backpack.
“She died two years ago.”
I lowered my voice.
“I'm sorry.”
“She loved Emilia.”
Camilla's fingers tightened.
“She was the only person who believed I could do it alone.”
“You shouldn't have had to.”
Camilla looked at me.
“No.”
There was no accusation in her voice.
That somehow hurt more.
I crouched beside the backpack.
There was a small drawing sticking out of the side pocket.
I pulled it free.
Three people stood beneath a blue sky.
A woman.
A little girl.
And a man.
The man had dark hair.
The girl had brown eyes.
Across the top, in uneven handwriting, were the words:
MY FAMILY.
I turned the paper over.
A child's name was written there.
EMILIA.
My throat tightened.
“She drew this?”
“Yes.”
“When?”
“Last month.”
I stared at it.
“Did she know about me?”
Camilla nodded.
“I showed her your photograph.”
I looked up.
“What did you tell her?”
“That her father lived far away.”
My heart cracked.
“What did she call me?”
Camilla's eyes softened.
“She called you Daddy Lucas.”
I closed my eyes.
For five years, somewhere in Miami, a little girl had been saying my name.
And I had never heard it.
I sat down.
Camilla remained standing.
“Why did you really come to the airport yesterday?”
She looked surprised.
“I work there.”
“No.”
I shook my head.
“You looked at Charlotte like you knew something.”
Camilla's expression changed.
“I do.”
“What?”
She sat across from me.
“Your fiancée came to see me two weeks ago.”
I stared at her.
“Charlotte?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“She asked about Emilia.”
My stomach dropped.
“What did she want?”
“She wanted to know whether you were definitely the father.”
“I am.”
“I know.”
“What else?”
Camilla looked toward the window.
“She wanted to know where Emilia was going to school.”
I stood.
“Why?”
“I don't know.”
“Did you tell her?”
“No.”
“Did she threaten you?”
Camilla shook her head.
“She cried.”
That surprised me.
“She said she was afraid.”
“Of what?”
Camilla looked directly at me.
“Of your mother.”
I couldn't speak.
“My mother?”
“She said your mother had warned her that if you found out about Emilia, your life would fall apart.”
I sat down again.
Charlotte had said she was afraid I'd leave her.
But there was more.
There had to be.
“Why did Charlotte care where Emilia went to school?”
Camilla didn't answer.
Instead, she walked to a drawer.
She took out a folded receipt.
“This was left in my mailbox.”
I unfolded it.
It was from a private school.
A deposit had been paid for a child named Emilia Rivera.
The date was two months earlier.
I looked at Camilla.
“You paid this?”
“No.”
“Who did?”
“I don't know.”
At the bottom was a contact name.
Charlotte Bennett.
My blood ran cold.
Charlotte had paid a school deposit for my daughter.
Without telling me.
Without telling Camilla.
I looked up.
“Why?”
Camilla shook her head.
“I don't know.”
Then the front door rattled.
Both of us froze.
Someone tried the handle.
Camilla stood.
“Who is that?”
A man's voice came through the door.
“Camilla?”
She went pale.
I whispered, “Who?”
“My sister's husband.”
The handle moved again.
Camilla hurried toward the door.
“Don't open it.”
She stopped.
“Why?”
“Because he isn't supposed to know I'm here.”
The man outside knocked.
“Camilla, I know you're inside.”
I looked at her.
“Why is he looking for you?”
She whispered one sentence.
“Because he knows where Emilia was taken.”
The knocking stopped.
Then footsteps moved away.
I waited.
“What does that mean?”
Camilla stared at the door.
“My sister's husband was supposed to bring Emilia back yesterday.”
“Where did he take her?”
“I don't know.”
“You said she was safe.”
“I thought she was.”
She covered her mouth.
Tears rolled down her cheeks.
Then her phone buzzed.
She looked at the screen.
Her face went white.
“What?”
She handed me the phone.
There was one message.
A photograph of Emilia sitting at a table.
She was wearing a red sweater.
Underneath it was a sentence.
STOP ASKING QUESTIONS.
My hands began shaking.
I looked at Camilla.
“Who sent this?”
She whispered the answer.
“I don't know.”
May you like
Then another message appeared.
LUCAS KNOWS NOTHING. KEEP IT THAT WAY.
