Chapter 4: The Woman in the Photograph
Jessica’s smile lasted only a second.
Then Detective Harris stepped toward her.
“Take your hands off the door.””
Jessica slowly released the handle.
Daniel stood motionless beside the table, his phone still clutched in his hand.
“Jessica,” he said quietly, “what does that mean?””
She looked at him.
“It means your mother has been lying to you.””
I almost laughed.
“About what?””
Jessica pointed at me.
“Everything.””
Detective Harris moved between us.
“You're going to answer some questions.””
“I don't have to answer anything.””
“You do if you’re being detained.””
Jessica’s eyes widened.
“Detained?””
Daniel looked at the detective.
“Are you arresting her?””
“Not yet.””
Jessica exhaled.
I noticed the tiny movement of relief.
Then Detective Harris continued.
“But we're not letting her leave.””
Her relief disappeared.
Daniel stepped closer to Jessica.
“Tell me the truth.””
She stared at him.
“You really want the truth?””
“Yes.””
“Even if it destroys your family?””
Daniel swallowed.
“My family is already destroyed.””
Jessica looked at me.
“No. It was destroyed three years ago.””
She turned back to Daniel.
“Your father wasn't supposed to die that night.””
My heart stopped.
Daniel whispered, “What?””
Jessica lowered herself into a chair.
“He was supposed to leave town.””
I looked at Detective Harris.
“What is she talking about?””
He raised a hand.
“Let her speak.””
Jessica crossed her arms.
“Your father was planning to disappear.””
Daniel stared at her.
“Why?””
“Because he was afraid.””
“Of what?””
Jessica looked directly at me.
“Of your mother.””
The room went silent.
I felt the blood drain from my face.
“That’s a lie.””
Jessica smiled.
“You knew he was seeing someone.””
Daniel turned toward me.
“Mom?””
“No.””
“You knew?””
“No.””
Jessica laughed softly.
“You see? She does it again.””
I slammed my palm onto the table.
“Enough!””
Everyone looked at me.
“I spent three years grieving that man. Three years believing his death was an accident. If you know something, say it.””
Jessica leaned back.
“Your husband had another life.””
Daniel frowned.
“What does that mean?””
“He had another woman.””
I shook my head.
“No.””
“Yes.””
“That isn't true.””
“You found the receipts.””
I froze.
“What receipts?””
Jessica looked pleased.
“The hotel receipts.””
Daniel turned toward me.
“Mom?””
I stared at her.
“How do you know about those?””
She shrugged.
“Because I saw them.””
“When?””
“After he died.””
Detective Harris leaned forward.
“Where did you see them?””
Jessica ignored him.
She looked at Daniel.
“Your mother found out your father was meeting someone at a hotel outside the city.””
I could barely breathe.
“That never happened.””
Jessica tilted her head.
“Then why did you burn the receipts?””
I stared at her.
I had never told anyone about those receipts.
Not Daniel.
Not my sister.
Not even the police.
Three days after my husband died, I had found a handful of hotel receipts inside the lining of his old briefcase.
I had stared at them for hours.
Then I burned them.
Not because I wanted to hide an affair.
Because I couldn't bear the thought of Daniel learning that his father might have betrayed me.
I had protected my son.
And somehow Jessica knew.
Daniel's voice became barely audible.
“Mom… did Dad cheat?””
I closed my eyes.
“I don't know.””
“That isn't an answer.””
“It’s the truth.””
Jessica shook her head.
“She knew.””
“I suspected something,” I said.
“That’s all.””
Daniel looked devastated.
“You never told me.””
“You were twenty-four.””
“So?””
“You had just lost your father.””
“And you decided I couldn't handle the truth?””
“I decided my son had suffered enough.””
Daniel looked away.
Jessica reached for his hand.
He pulled it back.
“Don't.””
Her face tightened.
Detective Harris opened the folder again.
“The photograph found in the locker shows Jessica and Mrs. Carter together.””
Jessica immediately said, “That photograph was taken before I met Daniel.””
I frowned.
“What?””
She looked at me.
“You remember.””
“No, I don't.””
“You absolutely do.””
Detective Harris placed the photograph in front of me.
It showed me standing outside a coffee shop.
I was younger.
Maybe three years ago.
Beside me was Jessica.
But she looked different.
Her hair was shorter.
Her face was thinner.
Still, there was no mistaking her.
Daniel stared at it.
“Mom, why are you with Jessica?””
I shook my head.
“I've never met her before Daniel introduced us.””
Jessica laughed.
“You're going to keep saying that?””
“Yes.””
“Then look at the back.””
I turned the photograph over.
There was handwriting.
Two words.
*SHE KNOWS.*
My stomach dropped.
Detective Harris took it from me.
“Who wrote that?””
Jessica said nothing.
Daniel looked at her.
“You?””
“No.””
“Then who?””
She looked toward the window.
Nobody answered.
Detective Harris suddenly stood.
“I'm going to need everyone separated.””
Jessica shook her head.
“No.””
“You don't get to decide that.””
“I need to talk to Daniel.””
“You'll have an opportunity later.””
“No.””
She grabbed Daniel’s sleeve.
“Daniel, listen to me.””
He looked at her.
“What?””
“Your mother is dangerous.””
I felt something inside me go cold.
“Dangerous?””
Jessica nodded.
“She knows what happened to your father.””
Daniel stared at me.
“Mom?””
I opened my mouth.
Then stopped.
Because I suddenly remembered something.
A detail from the night my husband died.
A detail I had buried so deeply that I had almost convinced myself it never happened.
My husband had called me at 10:14 p.m.
I had answered.
He had sounded terrified.
He said only one sentence.
*“If anything happens to me, don't trust the woman who comes to the funeral.””*
I had forgotten who came.
Until now.
I looked at Jessica.
She was watching me.
And then I knew.
Jessica hadn't been the woman who came to my house after the funeral.
But she knew who that woman was.
“Detective,” I whispered.
He turned.
“The woman in the photograph isn't Jessica.””
Jessica's expression changed.
I pointed at the picture.
“She looks like Jessica, but that's not her.””
Daniel frowned.
“Mom, what are you talking about?””
I stood.
“The woman who came to my house after Dad died…”
My voice trembled.
“She looked exactly like this.””
Jessica went pale.
Detective Harris took the photograph.
“You’re saying there are two women?””
“Yes.””
Jessica stood abruptly.
“No.””
Everyone turned toward her.
She backed away.
“No, no, no…”
Daniel stepped forward.
“Jessica?””
She stared at the photograph.
Then she whispered a name.
A name that made my entire body go numb.
“Melissa.””
Detective Harris's face changed.
“Melissa Miller?””
Jessica looked at him.
“Yes.””
Daniel looked confused.
“Who is Melissa?””
Jessica didn't answer.
I did.
“Her sister.””
Jessica covered her mouth.
And for the first time, I understood why the woman in the photograph had always seemed familiar.
She wasn't Jessica.
She was the woman who had stood beside my husband's coffin.
The woman who had hugged me.
The woman who had whispered that my husband deserved what happened.
Melissa.
Jessica's older sister.
Detective Harris immediately reached for his radio.
“Get an alert out for Melissa Miller.””
Jessica shook her head.
“It's too late.””
Daniel looked at her.
“What do you mean?””
Jessica looked directly at me.
“She knows the camera footage exists.””
My heart sank.
“How?””
Jessica's eyes filled with tears.
“Because she installed the camera.””
Everyone froze.
Daniel turned toward the ceiling.
“The wedding camera?””
Jessica nodded.
“Not just this one.””
Detective Harris stared at her.
“How many cameras are there?””
Jessica whispered:
May you like
“Twenty-three.””
Then the lights went out.
