Chapter 4 - Vanessa Had Been Receiving Proof That Leah Was Alive
“Did you know she survived?”
Vanessa didn't answer.
I set the photograph down.
“Vanessa.”
“I knew she survived the fire.”
“After that.”
Her jaw tightened.
“I didn't know where she went.”
“Did Voss?”
“Yes.”
“That's what he showed you.”
She closed her eyes.
“Eleven days after the fire, Julian sent me a photograph.”
“What photograph?”
“Leah holding that day's newspaper.”
My stomach turned.
“You thought he was holding her.”
“I thought somebody was.”
“Did he threaten her?”
“Not directly.”
“Of course.”
Vanessa sat behind her desk.
“He said Leah had entered protective relocation voluntarily.”
“Did you believe him?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because my daughter would have called me.”
I almost laughed.
“Families love that sentence.”
She looked at me.
Fair hit.
Vanessa continued.
“Julian said Leah had discovered the same irregularities you did. He said people connected to the system were frightened. He said if I forced her back into official channels before they understood who was compromised, I might get both of you killed.”
“And you believed him.”
“Not all of it.”
“Enough.”
“Yes.”
“What happened to me?”
She looked ashamed.
“You wanted out.”
“That is one way to say it.”
By day six, I had started demanding a phone.
By day eight, I told Vanessa I would walk out.
By day eleven, one of the men outside my room tried to stop me.
I hit him with a food tray.
Not my finest moment.
I made it to the parking lot before Vanessa caught me.
“You told me my family had already been notified.”
“Yes.”
“You said if I appeared, there would be questions.”
“Yes.”
“You said I could destroy an active investigation.”
“Yes.”
“Was there one?”
“No.”
That stopped me.
“What?”
“Not officially.”
I laughed.
“Jesus.”
“I was trying to build one.”
“With Voss?”
“Around him.”
“While using his people.”
“Yes.”
Ugly enough to believe.
I remembered the choice I made after that.
Not because Vanessa forced it.
Because I was afraid too.
I agreed to go to a civilian safe apartment for another week.
No phone.
No contact.
Then one week became three.
At the end of the third, Vanessa told me Leah had sent another proof-of-life message.
I had forgotten that part.
Or put it somewhere I didn't have to examine.
“What did Leah say?”
Vanessa's voice lowered.
“Keep Rachel out.”
I stared.
“Exact?”
“Those three words.”
“Nothing else?”
“No.”
“So you took that as permission.”
“No.”
She looked at me.
“I took it as evidence Leah knew where you were.”
“And?”
“That meant the safe location was compromised.”
“What did you do?”
“I moved you again.”
I remembered.
That night.
Suitcase packed for me.
Another car.
My rage.
The argument in a motel parking lot.
Me accusing Vanessa of using Leah as an excuse to keep me silent.
Vanessa refusing to tell me where Leah was.
Then I left.
Actually left.
A bus station.
Cash from an envelope Vanessa had given me.
A new name from the paperwork Julian’s network had prepared.
I had used the very identity I hated because I had no better one.
“You didn't find me after that.”
“No.”
“Did you try?”
“Yes.”
“How hard?”
Vanessa's face tightened.
“Not as hard as I could have.”
There.
“Why?”
“Because Julian sent me another photograph of Leah.”
“And?”
“A message.”
“What did it say?”
Vanessa looked at me.
Rachel made her choice. Let her stay dead.
I stared.
“Did you believe Leah wrote it?”
“No.”
“Then why listen?”
“Because I believed Julian could reach her.”
That was different.
Still not enough.
Vanessa opened a locked drawer.
Not dramatic.
Just a folder.
She removed three printed photographs.
Leah.
Different years.
Different backgrounds.
Always alone.
Always looking at the camera.
Proof of life.
No visible threat.
No obvious freedom.
The most recent was dated that morning.
6:18 a.m.
Leah standing in the Fort Grant canteen.
Same tables.
Same serving counter.
No mask.
I stared at her face.
Then at Vanessa.
“You had this before I arrived.”
“It was slipped under my office door.”
“At six.”
“Yes.”
“You knew she was on base.”
“No.”
“You had a photograph.”
“I thought it was taken earlier.”
“Why?”
Vanessa tapped the bottom corner.
The digital date embedded on the print read the previous year.
Different from the handwritten time.
Someone had wanted Vanessa uncertain.
Then my phone buzzed.
Unknown number.
One message.
MY MOTHER THINKS JULIAN BROUGHT ME.
May you like
Another arrived.
I BROUGHT JULIAN.
