Then he hesitated.
“What?”
He reached into his coat pocket and removed one envelope from the stack he had taken from the apartment. “The officer said this one was addressed directly to you. He allowed me to bring it.”
The envelope was cream-colored, with my name written in careful blue ink.
Emily Bennett.
Not Carter.
Bennett.
My heart gave a strange little kick.
“Who’s it from?” Dad asked.
I turned it over. No return address.
“I don’t know.”
My fingers trembled as I opened it. Inside was a single folded page and a small ultrasound image.
At first, I thought it was mine.
Then I saw the date.
Three years earlier.
The letter was short.
Emily, if you are reading this, then maybe you have finally started asking questions. I should have told you sooner, but I was afraid. Ryan and Linda are not who they pretend to be. Please be careful with anything they ask you to sign. Please find me before the baby comes. There are things you deserve to know. —Claire
