“The emergency crew found an item in Emily’s possession that doesn’t appear to belong to her. We need to establish how she came to have it.””

“What item?””

“A small, waterproof document pouch. It was tucked inside the lining of her backpack. It contains several photographs and a storage device.””

Richard blinked.

“I don’t know anything about that.””

“Do you recognize the name Daniel Mercer?””

The glass slipped from Richard’s hand.

It struck the carpet and rolled beneath the coffee table.

Karen stared at him.

“Dad?””

Richard didn’t respond.

The name had come out of the telephone like a voice from a grave.

Daniel Mercer.

He hadn’t heard it spoken aloud in nearly six years.

He had believed the man was gone. He had believed the matter was finished. He had believed that the documents associated with that name had disappeared when the old house was cleared out.

Most importantly, he had believed his daughters knew nothing about it.

“Mr. Walls?”” Officer Daniels said.

Richard forced himself to breathe.

“Where did you get that name?””

“From the contents of the pouch. I need you to come to the hospital as soon as possible. An investigator is on the way, and we’ll need to speak with you.””

“Daniel Mercer is dead.””

Another pause.

“That’s interesting,” Officer Daniels replied.

“Because one of the photographs appears to show Mr. Mercer alive and standing beside you.””

Richard’s hand began to shake.

Karen stepped closer.

“Dad, what’s going on?””

He covered the receiver.

“Go upstairs.””

“But—”

“Now!””

Karen recoiled.

For the first time that evening, her expression was not carefully arranged for an audience. She looked frightened.

She turned toward the staircase, then stopped halfway across the room.

“Dad, what did they find?””

Richard didn’t answer.

He returned to the phone.

“Officer, whatever you’ve found, my daughter doesn’t know anything about it.””

“You should discuss that with the investigator, Mr. Walls.””

“She’s a child.””

“So is Emily.””

The words landed with brutal simplicity.

Richard stared at the front door.

For the first time, he seemed to see the evening as someone outside his family might see it: a fifteen-year-old girl standing in a storm without a coat, while the adult responsible for her watched the deadbolt slide into place.

He sank onto the sofa.

“Is she conscious?”” he whispered.

“Not when she arrived. The hospital will update you when they can.””

“I need to see her.””

“Then I suggest you leave now.””

The call ended.

Richard remained seated, the receiver pressed against his ear long after the line went dead.

Karen approached him slowly.

“Dad?””

He lowered the phone.

“Go get your shoes.””

“Why?””

“We’re going to the hospital.””

Her eyes widened.

“Is Emily okay?””

“I don’t know.””

Karen looked toward the hallway.

For a fraction of a second, she seemed relieved that he hadn’t asked her anything about Daniel Mercer.

Then Richard spoke again.

“Karen, did you put anything in your sister’s backpack?””

She froze.

“What?””

“Did you put anything in Emily’s backpack?””

“No. Of course not.””

He studied her face.

She looked exactly as she had looked when she accused me: wide eyes, trembling lips, a hand pressed against her chest.

But this time, Richard didn’t immediately believe her.

“Then why,” he asked slowly, “would the police find a hidden pouch inside it?””

Karen’s mouth opened.

Closed.

“I don’t know.””

Richard stood.

“Get your shoes.””

She ran upstairs.

He watched her disappear, then turned toward the window.

Outside, the storm continued to rage.

For the first time that night, he wondered whether the rain had been the most dangerous thing I had encountered.

Because the name Daniel Mercer had awakened something he’d spent six years trying to forget.

And the police had found evidence that someone in his family had been keeping secrets.

Secrets that might explain why my sister had been so desperate to make me look guilty.

Secrets that might explain why a girl who had never been in trouble at school was suddenly being accused of drug abuse.

And secrets that could destroy everything Richard Walls had built.

He grabbed his car keys.

Then his phone rang again.

This time, it was an unfamiliar number.

“Richard Walls?”” a woman asked.

“Yes.””

“My name is Detective Harris. I’m investigating the contents of the pouch found with your daughter.””

He closed his eyes.

“Detective, I don’t know anything about it.””

“Perhaps not. But I need you to listen carefully.””

He waited.

“We’ve identified the storage device. It contains records connected to an investigation that was officially closed six years ago.””

Richard’s knees nearly gave way.

The detective continued.

“And Mr. Walls, your name appears in those records.””

Chapter 3: The Secret Hidden in My Backpack