“I need to talk to her,” he said.
Margaret grabbed his wrist. “If you confront her alone, she’ll run again.”
“Then what do I do?”
She looked up at him, eyes sharp through the tears.
“Bring me to her.”
Daniel hesitated.
“You walk in with me,” she said. “She sees my face. And she answers.”
After a long silence, he held out his hand.
Margaret took it.
THE BROWNSTONE
The cab ride was silent except for the city rushing by.
“How long have you been on the street?” Daniel asked.
“Three years.”
He repeated it softly, like it didn’t fit in reality.
They stopped in front of a limestone brownstone with black iron railings.
“She lives here,” Margaret said.
“We live here,” Daniel replied—then paused. “I don’t know what we are anymore.”
Inside, the house smelled like garlic and rosemary.
“Danny?” Emily’s voice called. “You’re late, I made—”
She stepped into the hallway.
The dish towel fell from her hands.
“Mom,” she whispered.
The word escaped before she could stop it.
THE TRUTH COLLIDES
“So you remember me,” Margaret said.
Emily’s face flickered—shock, fear, guilt.
“How did you—”
“I gave a homeless woman a hundred dollars,” Daniel said evenly. “She recognized your photo.”
Silence.
“You told me your parents were dead,” Daniel continued. “Why is your mother alive—and homeless?”
Emily’s voice trembled. “I couldn’t breathe after Dad died. She suffocated me.”
“So you erased me?” Margaret demanded.
“I needed space!”
“You staged a crime scene,” Margaret shot back. “You cut your hand. Left blood. Purse. Phone. You wanted me to think you were murdered.”
Emily slid down the wall, sobbing. “I didn’t mean for it to go this far.”
“You meant for me to stop looking,” Margaret said. “I never did.”
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