Chapter 2 - THE WOMAN WHO WAS SUPPOSED TO BE DEAD
Alec arrived at my house at 6:18 the next morning.
I had not slept.
Neither had he, judging by the way he climbed out of his truck carrying a thermos of coffee and wearing the same jeans I had seen him wear the previous afternoon.
He walked into my kitchen without saying hello.
His eyes went directly to the newspaper spread across the table.
The gray material was still there.
Sand.
Plaster.
Tiny white fragments that might have been bone, but looked nothing like the photographs Alec showed me later.
He stood over it for several seconds.
Then he looked at me.
“Did you touch it?”
“Only when I opened the urn.”
“Anything else?”
“No.”
“Good.”
He pulled on gloves.
Alec had been retired from the state police for eight years, but some habits never left a man.
He photographed everything.
The urn.
The newspaper.
The fragments.
The inside of the container.
The label.
Then he photographed the paperwork I had found in my filing cabinet.
His expression changed when he saw the cremation authorization.
“What?”
He pointed at the signature.
“This isn't Nina's.”
I stared at him.
“You're sure?”
“I knew her.”
“So did I.”
He shook his head.
“No. Look at the letter formation.”
I leaned closer.
The signature looked almost right.
Almost.
But once Alec pointed out the difference, I saw it.
The final letter was too high.
The curve was wrong.
The pressure was different.
“Who signed it?”
“I don't know yet.”
He put the document down.
“But I can tell you something else.”
“What?”
“The date.”
“What about it?”
“The cremation was supposedly completed two days after the accident.”
“Yes.”
“But the county records show the vehicle wasn't released from the impound lot until four days later.”
I stared at him.
“That doesn't make sense.”
“No.”
He pulled out his tablet.
“There's more.”
Alec had already contacted an old colleague who still worked in the department.
He had obtained the original accident report.
I watched him scroll.
“According to the report, the fire was intense.”
“I know.”
“But the report does not say the driver was positively identified at the scene.”
My heart stopped.
“What?”
“It says identification was later made through dental records and personal effects.”
“That's what they told us.”
“Yes.”
“But here's the problem.”
He turned the screen toward me.
“The dental records were submitted by the family.”
I frowned.
“By who?”
“Chad.”
The room seemed to become colder.
“Chad gave them?”
“Yes.”
I sat down.
Alec continued.
“There was no independent confirmation from Nina's dentist.”
“What?”
“Her dental office closed shortly after the accident. The dentist retired. The records were transferred.”
“So you're saying—”
“I am saying the original identification process may have been flawed.”
I stared at the gray remains on the newspaper.
For six years, I had believed my daughter was dead.
I had cried over her.
I had buried photographs.
I had held her urn.
I had watched my wife die from grief.
And now a retired investigator was sitting in my kitchen telling me that the one piece of evidence I had accepted without question might have been fabricated.
My hands started shaking.
“Where is Nina's actual dental file?”
Alec looked at me.
“I don't know.”
“Then find it.”
“I will.”
He paused.
“But Carter, we need to be careful.”
“Why?”
“If Chad is involved in this, he may know we're looking.”
I thought about Alvin.
The boy had whispered to me in a public park.
Don't give Dad any more money.
Then he had told me to follow him.
Not Dad.
Him.
Why?
What had he seen?
I looked at Alec.
“I need to see my grandson.”
“We will.”
“Today.”
He nodded.
“But first, I want you to do something else.”
“What?”
“Find the woman.”
Alec understood immediately.
“The one from the grocery store.”
“Yes.”
“You think she's Nina?”
“I don't know.”
“That means we don't assume.”
“I know.”
“But if she's connected to Chad, we need to find out who she is.”
I nodded.
Alec took a photograph from his pocket.
It was grainy.
Taken from across the street.
The woman standing beside Chad.
I stared at her face.
The photograph was not clear enough for certainty.
But there was something.
The same eyes.
The same slight tilt of the head.
The same habit of pulling her lower lip inward when nervous.
I had seen Nina do that as a child.
I remembered her at eleven, standing in the grocery store after breaking a jar of spaghetti sauce.
She had been terrified I would be angry.
She had looked at me exactly the way that woman had looked through my store window.
I felt my chest tighten.
“I think it's her.”
Alec didn't answer.
He simply said,
“Let's prove it.”
At noon, I drove to Chad's house.
Alec followed in his truck.
I parked across the street.
Alvin was outside.
He was sitting on the front steps, drawing with sidewalk chalk.
When he saw me, his face brightened.
“Grandpa!”
He ran toward me.
I got out and hugged him.
For several seconds, I said nothing.
I just held him.
Then I whispered,
“Are you okay?”
He nodded.
“Where's Dad?”
“Inside.”
“Is he alone?”
Alvin looked toward the house.
Then shook his head.
“No.”
My heart started pounding.
“Who is with him?”
He leaned closer.
“The lady.”
I looked at Alec.
“Which lady?”
“The one Dad says doesn't exist.”
Alec raised an eyebrow.
I crouched beside Alvin.
“What do you mean?”
“She comes at night.”
“How often?”
“Sometimes.”
“Where does she go?”
Alvin pointed toward the side of the house.
“The back room.”
“What back room?”
“The one with the blue door.”
I looked at the house.
There was no visible blue door from the street.
“Is it inside?”
Alvin nodded.
“Dad keeps it locked.”
“Why?”
“I don't know.”
“Have you ever been inside?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Dad says it's dangerous.”
“What is dangerous?”
Alvin shrugged.
“He says broken glass.”
I looked at Alec.
That didn't sound right.
“Does the lady go into the room?”
“Yes.”
“Does she ever come out?”
“Sometimes.”
“When?”
“When Dad leaves.”
My heartbeat accelerated.
“What does she do?”
“She sits with me.”
My breath caught.
“She sits with you?”
Alvin nodded.
“She knows Mom.”
The world seemed to stop.
“What?”
“She knows Mom.”
“How?”
“She says Mom used to sing the same song.”
“What song?”
Alvin began humming.
It was an old song Nina used to sing when she was little.
A ridiculous song about a yellow bird.
She had made up the words herself.
I hadn't heard it in decades.
But I knew it.
I looked at Alec.
He had gone completely still.
“Alvin,” I whispered.
“Does the lady look like your mother?”
He nodded.
“Yes.”
I closed my eyes.
Alec gently placed a hand on my shoulder.
Then the front door opened.
Chad stepped outside.
His expression changed when he saw me.
“What are you doing here?”
“I came to see Alvin.”
“You should call first.”
“I've called.”
“You didn't call today.”
“I'm here now.”
Chad walked toward us.
His eyes moved to Alec.
“Who's that?”
“A friend.”
Chad's face hardened.
“What kind of friend?”
Alec smiled.
“The kind who asks questions.”
Chad stared at him.
Then at me.
“What's going on?”
I stood.
“I want to take Alvin for lunch.”
“Not today.”
“Why?”
“He has plans.”
“What plans?”
“Family plans.”
I looked toward the house.
“With who?”
Chad didn't answer.
Then I saw her.
Through the upstairs window.
The woman.
She stood behind the curtain.
Watching us.
My heart stopped.
She moved closer to the glass.
For one second, sunlight touched her face.
I knew her.
Not because of the photographs.
Not because of the scar.
Because of the way she looked at me.
Her lips parted.
Her eyes filled with tears.
And then she disappeared from the window.
I took one step forward.
“Nina?”
Chad grabbed my arm.
“Don't.”
I looked at him.
His fingers were tight around my sleeve.
“You know who she is.”
He released me.
“No.”
“Then why are you afraid?”
“I’m not.”
Alec stepped forward.
“Mr. Burnham, I'd recommend you let go of the old man.”
Chad looked at him.
Then smiled.
“You don't know what you're getting involved in.”
Alec's smile disappeared.
“I know enough.”
Chad went inside.
The door slammed.
Alvin looked at me.
“Grandpa?”
“What?”
“Don't let Dad know I told you.”
I hugged him again.
“I won't.”
Then he whispered,
“She's scared.”
“Who?”
“The lady.”
“What is she scared of?”
May you like
He looked toward the house.
“Dad.”
