Chapter 3: What Vanessa Buried
Vanessa closed the bedroom door behind her.
Neither of us moved.
The brass key was still in my hand.
She stared at it.
Then at me.
“Where did you get that?””
I said nothing.
Her voice became quieter.
“Marcus, where did you get the key?””
I placed it on the dresser.
“It doesn't matter.””
“It matters very much.””
“So does this.””
I pulled the leather folder from the drawer.
Vanessa's face drained of color.
She took one step backward.
“Put that down.””
“No.””
“Marcus.””
“What is this?””
She looked at the floor.
“I can explain.””
“Then explain.””
She didn't.
I opened the folder and held up the DNA report.
“Why did you have a DNA test done?””
Her lips parted.
No sound came out.
I looked at the result again.
“Vanessa, whose DNA did you test?””
She sank onto the edge of the bed.
“You weren't supposed to find that.””
I laughed once.
There was no humor in it.
“Apparently my daughter wasn't supposed to find a lot of things either.””
Her eyes snapped toward me.
“Maya.””
“Yes.””
“You let her into my things?””
“No. She gave me the key.””
Vanessa stood so quickly the mattress bounced.
“She stole from me?””
“She found it.””
“She had no right!””
“She is eleven years old.””
“She has no right to go through my belongings!””
“And you had no right to make her afraid to talk to her own father.””
Vanessa froze.
I pulled the photograph from my pocket.
The one I'd grabbed before she came upstairs.
It showed a woman standing beside a hospital bed.
Maya's mother.
And beside her was Vanessa.
My fingers tightened around the photograph.
“You told me you barely knew her.””
Vanessa's eyes filled with tears.
“I did.””
“You were at the hospital.””
“I visited her.””
“You told me she died before you ever met her.””
“I was scared.””
“Of what?””
She wiped her cheek.
“You wouldn't understand.””
“Try me.””
She stared at the photograph.
Then whispered, “She knew something.””
“What?””
“She knew what happened.””
“To what?””
Vanessa shook her head.
“I can't.””
My voice hardened.
“You've had eleven years.””
She looked up.
“Marcus, listen to me. Everything I did was to protect you.””
“Protect me from what?””
She didn't answer.
I stepped closer.
“Was Maya's mother murdered?””
Vanessa flinched.
That was enough.
My stomach dropped.
“You know something.””
“No.””
“You just reacted.””
“I don't know anything about a murder.””
“Then why are you afraid?””
She looked away.
I opened the DNA report again.
“This isn't your DNA against Maya's.””
Vanessa said nothing.
I turned the page.
There was a second name.
*Evelyn Carter.*
My hands went numb.
“Who is Evelyn Carter?””
Vanessa closed her eyes.
“No.””
“Who is she?””
“No, Marcus.””
“Tell me.””
She shook her head.
“You don't want to know.””
“That stopped being your decision eleven years ago.””
Her eyes opened.
And then she said something that made the entire room tilt beneath me.
“Evelyn isn't a stranger.””
“Then who is she?””
Vanessa whispered:
“She was your wife's sister.””
I stared at her.
“My wife?””
“Your first wife.””
I couldn't speak.
My first wife.
Maya's mother.
Dead for nine years.
Vanessa had always told me she was an only child.
I suddenly remembered the funeral.
A woman standing at the back.
Black coat.
Dark hair.
I had assumed she was a distant relative.
Vanessa had told me not to worry about her.
My chest tightened.
“Evelyn is alive?””
Vanessa didn't answer.
“Is she alive?””
“Yes.””
The word barely escaped her mouth.
I stepped backward.
“You told me Maya's mother was dead.””
“She is.””
“Then who is Evelyn?””
Vanessa's face crumpled.
“She is her twin.””
I stared at her.
The room became impossibly quiet.
A twin.
Someone who looked like Maya's mother.
Someone who had been standing at her funeral.
Someone Vanessa had hidden from me.
And someone whose DNA was in a folder inside my locked drawer.
I turned toward the door.
Vanessa grabbed my wrist.
“Marcus, please.””
I pulled away.
“What did you do?””
“I didn't hurt anyone.””
“Then why hide her?””
“Because she wanted Maya.””
My blood ran cold.
“What?””
“She said Maya should have been hers.””
I stared at Vanessa.
“You're lying.””
“I wish I were.””
“Why would she say that?””
Vanessa's voice broke.
“Because Maya wasn't supposed to be your daughter.””
I felt the air leave my lungs.
“What does that mean?””
Vanessa looked toward the window.
“Your first wife never told you the truth about Maya's birth.””
My heart pounded.
I thought of the hospital bracelet.
The birth certificate.
The DNA report.
Then another thought struck me.
“If Maya isn't my daughter…”
Vanessa whispered, “That's not what I said.””
“Then what are you saying?””
She looked directly at me.
And for the first time, I saw something worse than fear in her eyes.
Regret.
“Marcus, Maya is your daughter.””
I exhaled shakily.
“Then what's the lie?””
Vanessa opened her mouth.
Before she could answer, my phone rang.
The screen showed an unknown number.
I answered.
“Hello?””
A woman's voice came through.
Older.
Shaking.
But unmistakably familiar.
“Marcus?””
I couldn't move.
“Who is this?””
There was a long silence.
Then she said:
“My name is Evelyn.””
Vanessa covered her mouth.
I stared at my wife.
Evelyn continued.
“And if Vanessa is there with you, don't believe a word she tells you.””
The call went dead.
A second later, another message appeared on my phone.
It contained a photograph.
Maya was standing in front of our house.
Beside her was a woman who looked exactly like her mother.
May you like
Under the photograph were six words:
*I've been watching your daughter for years.* ::
