Chapter 5 - THE WOMAN AT THE MALIBU ADDRESS
Ethan did not go to Laura immediately.
Every instinct told him to.
Miles told him not to.
Nina Rourke agreed.
“You are emotionally compromised.”
“She’s my wife.”
“First wife.”
“Laura.”
“I know.”
“She has seen my daughter.”
“Yes.”
“Without my knowledge.”
“Yes.”
Ethan hated the patience everyone demanded.
Then Sophie asked:
“Are you going to get Mommy?”
He looked at her.
“I’m going to find out what’s happening.”
“Can I come?”
“No.”
Her face fell.
He crouched.
“This is grown-up stuff first.”
“Is Mommy in trouble?”
“I don’t know.”
Sophie looked toward the stairs.
“Vanessa said she is.”
There was another piece.
Ethan called Dr. Felicity Grant, a child psychologist recommended by Nina.
He explained.
Dr. Grant said:
“Do not make Sophie responsible for solving the mystery.”
“I’m trying not to.”
“Good.”
“Should she see Laura?”
“Eventually maybe. Not by surprise.”
Ethan nodded.
“Laura already saw her.”
“Which complicates attachment significantly.”
That clinical sentence hurt.
Sophie had lived with a secret relationship her father did not know existed.
No adult had protected her from carrying it.
Meanwhile Miles returned to the Malibu address.
A small cottage behind a larger property.
He did not approach Laura.
He watched from a legal public location and photographed her getting into a white sedan.
The image arrived at 3:11 p.m.
Ethan opened it alone.
Laura.
Older.
Hair shorter.
Thin.
Alive.
He sat down on the floor.
For five years, he had trained himself not to imagine impossible reunions.
The first year, he dreamed she walked through doors.
The second, he stopped telling anyone.
The third, he married Vanessa.
Now a photograph reopened grief and rearranged it.
He called Diane Morgan, Laura’s sister, who lived in Oregon.
She answered cheerfully.
Then heard Ethan’s voice.
“What happened?”
“Did you know Laura was alive?”
Silence.
Too long.
Ethan stood.
“Diane.”
“I—”
“You knew.”
“Not at first.”
His hand tightened.
“When?”
“Two years ago.”
Ethan closed his eyes.
The circle widened.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“She made me promise.”
“Why?”
“She was afraid.”
“Of me?”
“No.”
“Then what?”
Diane began crying.
“She said Vanessa told her things.”
“What things?”
“That Charles had people watching.”
“My father was dead two years ago.”
“I know.”
“Then why stay hidden?”
“I asked her.”
“And?”
“She said it was too late.”
Ethan almost shouted.
Too late?
For Sophie?
For him?
He forced himself down.
“Did Laura ask you to keep Sophie from her?”
“No.”
“Did you know she was visiting Sophie?”
Diane went silent.
“Diane.”
“No.”
That seemed genuine.
Ethan exhaled.
At least someone did not know.
“Give me her number.”
“I can’t.”
“You can.”
“She’ll hate me.”
“My eight-year-old has been carrying a secret because adults keep deciding their fear matters more than her stability.”
Silence.
Then Diane gave him the number.
Ethan did not call.
He sent:
LAURA.
IT’S ETHAN.
I KNOW YOU’RE ALIVE.
SOPHIE TOLD ME YOU’VE BEEN SEEING HER.
WE NEED TO TALK.
I WILL NOT BRING SOPHIE WITHOUT PROFESSIONAL GUIDANCE.
I WILL NOT COME TO YOUR HOUSE UNINVITED.
BUT I NEED THE TRUTH.
No response.
Five minutes.
Twenty.
An hour.
Then his phone rang.
Unknown number.
Ethan answered.
He heard breathing.
Then a voice he had not heard in five years.
“Ethan.”
He closed his eyes.
Laura.
Not recording.
Not dream.
Alive.
His first sentence was not the one he had planned.
“You let our daughter think I buried you.”
Laura started crying.
“No.”
“What?”
“I never knew Vanessa told you I was dead.”
Ethan went still.
“What did you think I knew?”
May you like
Laura’s answer changed the entire story again.
“I thought Vanessa told you I was alive.”
