Chapter 3 - The Woman in the PhotographDaniel sent Sophie to his sister's house that evening.
Kate arrived twenty minutes after his call.
She didn't ask questions until she saw Sophie.
Then she stopped in the doorway.
“Oh, sweetheart.”
Sophie ran into her arms.
Kate looked over the girl's head at Daniel.
The expression on her face promised violence.
Daniel shook his head.
“Take her home.”
“Daniel—”
“Please.”
Kate looked toward the upstairs hallway.
“Where is Vanessa?”
“Bedroom.”
“Why isn't she in jail?”
“Because I need to know exactly what happened first.”
Kate's jaw tightened.
“You better know what you're doing.”
“I don't.”
That answer surprised both of them.
Daniel crouched beside Sophie.
“You stay with Aunt Kate tonight.”
“Are you coming?”
“Later.”
Sophie looked worried.
“Don't believe her.”
Daniel's chest cracked a little.
“I believe you.”
“Promise?”
“I promise.”
Only after Kate drove away did Daniel return upstairs.
Vanessa wasn't in their bedroom.
She was in the guest room, packing a suitcase.
“Good,” Daniel said.
She turned.
“So you've decided I'm guilty.”
“I decided Sophie isn't safe around you.”
“Based on the word of a nine-year-old.”
“Based on her hair being all over the floor.”
Vanessa laughed bitterly.
“You think I would do that knowing you were coming home?”
“You didn't know.”
The laugh disappeared.
Daniel leaned against the doorframe.
“That's the part you keep forgetting.”
Vanessa zipped the suitcase.
“Sophie has been unstable since Megan died.”
Daniel's voice sharpened.
“Don't.”
“Someone has to say it.”
“No. Someone doesn't.”
“She has nightmares. She lies. She throws tantrums.”
“She's nine.”
“She needs therapy.”
“She has therapy.”
“She needs more.”
Daniel stared at her.
“How did you know Megan was trying to get me back?”
Vanessa stopped.
“Excuse me?”
“Sophie says you told her Megan would still be alive if she hadn't been trying to get me back.”
“I never said that.”
“How would Sophie invent that?”
“I don't know.”
“Did you know Megan?”
“No.”
The answer came too quickly.
Daniel watched her carefully.
“You're sure?”
Vanessa looked offended.
“Of course I'm sure.”
He nodded.
Then he walked away.
“Where are you going?”
“To prove one of you is lying.”
Daniel went into his office.
There were boxes in the closet he hadn't opened since Megan's death.
Tax records.
College photographs.
Old family documents.
He pulled them out one by one.
Vanessa stood in the doorway.
“What are you looking for?”
“Memories.”
“This is unhealthy.”
Daniel ignored her.
The fourth box contained photographs.
Hundreds.
Megan had printed everything.
Vacations.
Birthdays.
Sophie's first day of preschool.
Their wedding.
Daniel sat on the floor.
For several minutes, he forgot Vanessa was watching.
He found a photograph of himself and Megan on a beach in North Carolina.
Another of Megan pregnant.
Another of Sophie covered in birthday cake.
Pain pressed against his ribs.
Then a small envelope slipped from between two albums.
Daniel picked it up.
No label.
Inside were photographs from Megan's thirty-first birthday.
Daniel remembered the party.
A rooftop restaurant in Chicago.
Friends crowded around a long table.
He had taken most of the pictures, which meant he appeared in very few of them.
Daniel flipped through.
Megan laughing.
Kate holding champagne.
Their neighbor Marcus making a ridiculous face.
Then Daniel stopped.
A blonde woman stood behind Megan.
Only partially visible.
Her hair was shorter.
Her face thinner.
But Daniel knew those eyes.
He stared.
“No.”
Vanessa moved.
Daniel looked up.
She had gone pale.
He slowly raised the photograph.
“Who is this?”
Vanessa didn't answer.
Daniel stood.
“Who is this?”
“I don't know.”
“That's you.”
“It isn't.”
He looked at the picture again.
The blonde woman's arm was around Megan's shoulder.
They were smiling.
Close.
Comfortable.
Not strangers.
Daniel turned the photograph over.
Megan had written dates on almost everything.
October 12.
Four years ago.
Eight months before Megan died.
Daniel looked at Vanessa.
“You told me we met two years ago.”
“We did.”
“Then why are you at my wife's birthday party?”
“I'm not.”
Daniel walked closer.
“Look at it.”
“I don't need to.”
“LOOK AT IT.”
Vanessa flinched.
Daniel had rarely raised his voice during their marriage.
She stared at the photograph.
Then her expression changed.
Not fear this time.
Calculation.
Daniel saw her deciding what story to tell.
“I went to a lot of events back then.”
“You knew Megan.”
“I might have met her.”
“You had your arm around her.”
“People take photos.”
“What's her middle name?”
Vanessa blinked.
Daniel stepped closer.
“You knew her. So tell me.”
Silence.
“Megan's middle name.”
Vanessa looked toward the suitcase in the hall.
Daniel's stomach dropped.
“You weren't just at her birthday.”
“Daniel…”
“How well did you know my wife?”
Vanessa closed her eyes.
When she opened them again, the performance was gone.
“We were friends.”
Daniel felt the room tilt.
“How close?”
She said nothing.
Daniel's grip tightened around the photograph.
“How close, Vanessa?”
Finally, she whispered:
“Very.”
Daniel stared at her.
Then another memory surfaced.
When Megan died, one of her closest friends had disappeared before the funeral.
A friend Daniel had never met because Megan said they'd recently fallen out.
He remembered only the nickname.
Vee.
Daniel looked at the woman he had married.
“What did Megan call you?”
Vanessa's eyes filled with tears.
This time, he believed they were real.
“Daniel…”
“What did she call you?”
Vanessa swallowed.
“Vee.”
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And suddenly Daniel understood that his second wife hadn't entered his life after Megan died.
She had been standing inside it long before.
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