The photograph remained between us like evidence from a life I had never known.
Rachel stood outside the apartment building, one hand resting on the strap of her bag. Beside her was Alex, younger by six years but unmistakably him. His hair was shorter. His face was leaner. He was looking at Rachel rather than the camera.
I stared at the date written on the back.
Two weeks after the fundraiser.
Two weeks after Rachel had warned me not to go home with Trent.
Two weeks before my first date with him.
“What were you doing with her?” I asked.
Alex did not answer immediately.
That frightened me more than anything he could have said.
The detective held the photograph carefully by its edges. “You recognize yourself?”
“Yes.”
“Why were you there?”
Alex looked at me.
“I was trying to find her.”
“You told me she disappeared after you contacted her.”
“I said her phone stopped working and she left her apartment.”
“That isn't what I asked.”
The room seemed suddenly too small for all of us.
I looked at Alex.
“You knew where she lived.”
“Yes.”
“You met her.”
“Yes.”
“You took this photograph.”
“No.”
“Then who did?”
“I don't know.”
Daniels examined the picture again.
“There are several photographs in the box. Most appear to have been taken from a distance.”
My skin prickled.
“By Trent?”
“We don't know yet.”
Alex stepped closer.
“I never put these in that box.”
“But you knew about the apartment.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
He looked at me.
“Because Rachel asked me to help her.”
The answer opened another wound.
“She asked you?”
“She was frightened.”
“And you never told me.”
“You didn't know her.”
“She knew me.”
Alex shook his head.
“She had seen you at the fundraiser.”
I remembered the woman at the hotel.
Her trembling hand.
The wine on my sleeve.
Her warning.
“Why didn't she tell me herself?”
“She tried.”
“When?”
“The night of the fundraiser.”
“I barely remember speaking to her.”
“She was interrupted.”
“By Trent.”
Alex nodded.
I looked down at the photograph.
“What did she need help with?”
Alex took a breath.
“She wanted to leave.”
“Leave Trent?”
“Yes.”
“But they weren't together.”
“They had been.”
My throat tightened.
“And you helped her?”
“I tried.”
“What does that mean?”
“I helped her find somewhere safe to stay.”
“Then why did she disappear?”
“I don't know.”
Daniels stepped closer.
“Mr. Hale, did you ever enter this apartment?”
“No.”
“Did you have a key?”
“No.”
“Did you ever follow Rachel?”
“No.”
“Did you threaten her?”
Alex's expression hardened.
“No.”
“Did you tell anyone where she was?”
“No.”
The detective nodded.
Then he opened the envelope marked RACHEL.
Inside were photocopies.
Letters.
Receipts.
A photograph of Rachel's workplace.
And a handwritten page.
Daniels read silently.
His eyes stopped moving.
“What?”
He handed it to me.
The handwriting was Rachel's.
I recognized the name at the top.
Alex.
I read the first lines.
She wrote that she was afraid Trent knew she had spoken to me.
My fingers began to shake.
She had written that she believed Trent had been watching her.
She mentioned the fundraiser.
She mentioned me.
And then she wrote something that made my stomach turn.
She said Trent had shown her a photograph of me.
A photograph taken before I ever knew him.
I looked at Alex.
“What does this mean?”
He looked genuinely confused.
“I don't know.”
Daniels took the page back.
“How long before the fundraiser did you meet Rachel?”
“I didn't.”
“Then why would she say Trent showed her your photograph?”
“I don't know.”
My mind raced.
Maybe Trent had known about me before that night.
Maybe the fundraiser hadn't been our first meeting from his perspective.
Maybe he had already been watching me.
I remembered little things I had dismissed.
A message from an unknown number asking where I worked.
A car I thought I recognized outside my apartment.
A friend telling me a man had asked questions about me.
Trent had always explained those things away.
Coincidences.
Misunderstandings.
Paranoia.
I had believed him because I wanted to.
Alex looked at me.
“You need to hear this.”
“What?”
“Rachel told me something else.”
“What?”
“She said Trent had a list.”
“A list of what?”
“Women.”
I stared at him.
“What kind of list?”
“Names. Addresses. Places they worked. People they knew.”
“Why?”
“I don't know.”
“Did you see it?”
“No.”
“Then how do you know?”
“Rachel described it.”
Daniels looked toward the box.
“Maybe we should search the remaining contents.”
They opened the third envelope.
Inside was a folded sheet of paper.
Names.
Dates.
Short notes.
Some names had lines through them.
Some had question marks.
One name had been circled.
Mine.
I stopped breathing.
Next to my name was a date.
The date was six weeks before the fundraiser.
Beneath it were three words.
WATCH THROUGH ALEX.
Alex stared at the page.
“I never saw this.”
I believed him.
That somehow made it worse.
Because if Trent had written it, he had been watching me before I knew he existed.
Daniels photographed the document.
“Do you know why your name was there?”
“No.”
Alex looked at me.
“Maybe because he knew I was your brother.”
I shook my head.
“No.”
“What?”
“He didn't meet you that night.”
Alex frowned.
“I was at the fundraiser.”
“I mean before that.”
I looked toward the detective.
“Trent told me something.”
“What?”
“He said he had seen Alex before.”
Alex went still.
“When?”
“Before our wedding.”
I searched my memory.
“He said you were watching him.”
Alex's face changed.
“He noticed me.”
“He said you were jealous.”
“I wasn't.”
“I know that now.”
The words came out quietly.
Alex looked down.
The detective closed the box.
“We're taking all of this.”
I nodded.
“Can I keep the photograph?”
“No.”
I swallowed.
“Can I take a picture?”
Daniels considered it.
“After we document it.”
While he photographed the evidence, Alex moved beside me.
“I need to tell you something before we leave.”
I looked at him.
“What?”
“The night Rachel disappeared, I wasn't the last person she spoke to.”
My heart sank.
“Who was?”
“Trent.”
“How do you know?”
“Because Rachel called me.”
“When?”
“The evening before she vanished.”
“What did she say?”
“She said he had found her.”
My hands went cold.
“Where?”
“She wouldn't tell me.”
“Why?”
“She thought my phone might be monitored.”
I stared.
“Did she ask you to meet her?”
“Yes.”
“Did you?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
Alex looked ashamed.
“Because I thought she was trying to lure me into something.”
“What?”
“I don't know.”
“You didn't go?”
“No.”
“You left her alone?”
“I thought she would call again.”
“She didn't.”
“No.”
I turned away.
For years I had imagined Alex as the person who would always come running.
Now I saw the limits of that image.
He was human.
He had been afraid.
He had made mistakes.
And one of those mistakes might have cost Rachel everything.
“Where was the meeting supposed to happen?”
“A parking garage.”
“Which one?”
Alex told Daniels.
The detective wrote it down.
Then his phone rang.
He stepped aside.
We waited.
When he returned, his expression was different.
“What?”
He looked at Alex.
“Someone has been using Rachel's old identification information.”
My mouth went dry.
“Recently?”
“Yes.”
“How recently?”
“Three months ago.”
Alex stared.
“That's impossible.”
Daniels shook his head.
“We're checking the records now.”
My pulse accelerated.
Rachel had disappeared six years ago.
Yet someone had used her identity three months ago.
“Does that mean she's alive?”
“We don't know.”
The detective looked toward the evidence box.
“But if someone has been using her identification, we need to find out who.”
A thought came to me.
“What about the key?”
“What about it?”
“If Trent kept it, maybe he still has access to wherever it opens.”
Daniels nodded.
“We'll trace it.”
Alex looked at me.
“We should go.”
I gathered my things.
Before leaving the nursery, I looked once more at the empty compartment beneath the crib.
Something had been hidden there for years.
Something Trent had never wanted me to find.
I wondered what else the house was hiding.
Then my phone buzzed.
I had forgotten I had borrowed a spare from the hospital desk.
Unknown number.
One message.
I know what Rachel told you.
I stared at the screen.
Another message appeared.
Ask your brother where he was the night she disappeared.
I looked at Alex.
He saw my face.
“What happened?”
I handed him the phone.
His expression drained.
The final message appeared.
He wasn't alone.
