Chapter 2 — The Secret Lauren Knew
Chapter 2 — The Secret Lauren Knew
For several seconds after the car disappeared, neither of us moved.
I stood behind James, staring at the empty street through the glass.
The Christmas lights were still glowing along the porch.
Red.
Gold.
Green.
Everything looked exactly as it had the night before.
But nothing felt the same.
“Who was that?” I whispered.
James didn't answer.
“James.”
He slowly turned toward me.
“I don't know.”
“You're lying.”
His eyes met mine.
“I don't know who the man was.”
“That isn't what I asked.”
He remained silent.
“You recognized his voice.”
His jaw tightened.
“Yes.”
“Who is he?”
“I don't know.”
“Then why did you look terrified?”
“I wasn't terrified.”
“You were.”
He looked toward the stairs.
“Emma is upstairs.”
“I know.”
“Let's move this conversation somewhere else.”
He walked toward the kitchen.
I followed.
My anger was beginning to replace my fear.
“Operation Blackridge.”
He stopped.
“You said you would tell me everything.”
“I will.”
“When?”
“Now.”
He turned around.
His expression was exhausted.
“Blackridge was a military operation eight years ago.”
“Before we met?”
“Yes.”
“How long did it last?”
“Four days.”
“And what happened?”
He looked down.
“Something went wrong.”
“What?”
“We were sent to extract a group of civilians from a hostile area.”
“Did you succeed?”
“Partially.”
The word made my stomach tighten.
“What does that mean?”
“Most of them were evacuated.”
“Most?”
He nodded.
“There were twelve civilians.”
“How many survived?”
“Ten.”
“And the other two?”
He looked at me.
“One died during the extraction.”
“And the other?”
His silence answered me.
“James.”
“He disappeared.”
“You told me your commander died.”
“He did.”
“No.”
I shook my head.
“You just said someone disappeared.”
“My commander died later.”
“Then who was the man in the photograph?”
James took a breath.
“Colonel Nathan Reed.”
I stared at him.
“What happened to him?”
“He was accused of abandoning the operation.”
“Did he?”
“No.”
“Then why was he blamed?”
“Because someone needed to be.”
I felt a chill.
“Who?”
James looked at the floor.
“My superior command.”
I stared at him.
“So they blamed an innocent man?”
“Not exactly.”
“What does that mean?”
“He made a decision.”
“What decision?”
“He went back.”
“For whom?”
James hesitated.
“The missing civilian.”
“Did he save her?”
“No.”
“Did he die trying?”
“Yes.”
I swallowed.
“Then why are you acting like he might be alive?”
James didn't answer.
I stepped closer.
“Because someone thinks he survived.”
“Yes.”
“And Lauren knows.”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“That is what I don't understand.”
I stared at him.
Then suddenly remembered something.
“Wait.”
“What?”
“Lauren knew the name.”
James nodded.
“She shouldn't.”
“No.”
“But she does.”
“Yes.”
I looked toward the front door.
“Then we need to ask her.”
James shook his head.
“Not yet.”
“Why?”
“Because she's not working alone.”
At ten that morning, my parents arrived.
My mother came through the door first.
She looked exhausted.
My father followed.
He carried a small leather briefcase.
James noticed it immediately.
“What's that?”
My father looked at him.
“You know.”
James's expression hardened.
“You kept it?”
“I couldn't destroy it.”
“What is it?”
I looked between them.
“What are you two talking about?”
My father placed the briefcase on the table.
“Evidence.”
I stared at him.
“Evidence of what?”
He looked at James.
“Blackridge.”
My stomach dropped.
“You knew?”
My father sighed.
“Not everything.”
“You knew about the operation?”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“Because I helped fund the private investigation afterward.”
James stared at him.
“You were never supposed to know.”
My father gave a bitter laugh.
“Neither was my daughter.”
I stepped between them.
“Stop.”
Both men looked at me.
“I am done being the last person to know what is happening in my own life.”
My father opened the briefcase.
Inside was a thick folder.
Photographs.
Reports.
Bank statements.
Newspaper clippings.
And one photograph that made me freeze.
Lauren.
She was standing beside a man.
The man from the photograph James had received.
Colonel Nathan Reed.
My hands went cold.
“When was this taken?”
My father answered.
“Three months ago.”
I looked at James.
He stared at the photograph.
His face had gone pale.
“That's him.”
“You're sure?”
“Yes.”
“Then he's alive.”
James nodded.
“Yes.”
I looked at my father.
“How did you get this?”
“Someone mailed it to me.”
“Who?”
“I don't know.”
I picked up another photograph.
Lauren was sitting in a restaurant.
Across from her was Nathan Reed.
The date was printed in the corner.
Three months ago.
Then another.
Lauren entering a hotel.
Nathan behind her.
Then another.
A bank transfer.
The recipient was Lauren.
My throat tightened.
“She was being paid.”
My father nodded.
“How much?”
“Twenty thousand dollars.”
“For what?”
“We don't know.”
James looked through the papers.
“She wasn't just being paid.”
“What do you mean?”
He pointed at a document.
“She was receiving information.”
“About what?”
He looked at me.
“Us.”
That afternoon, James left the house.
He didn't tell me where he was going.
He simply said:
“I need to speak with someone.”
“Who?”
“An old colleague.”
“Military?”
“Yes.”
“Can I come?”
“No.”
I stared at him.
“Why?”
“Because if Reed is involved, I don't know what we're dealing with.”
“And you think leaving me alone is safer?”
“No.”
“Then why?”
“Because I need to know the truth before I put you in the middle of it.”
I crossed my arms.
“James, I'm already in the middle.”
He knew I was right.
He kissed my forehead.
“I'll be back.”
Then he left.
I watched his car disappear.
Something inside me told me not to trust the silence.
At 3:15 p.m., Lauren called.
I almost ignored it.
Then I answered.
“Hello.”
She didn't speak.
“Lauren?”
A soft laugh came through the phone.
“Did he tell you?”
“Tell me what?”
“About Blackridge.”
I felt my pulse quicken.
“Yes.”
“And?”
“I want to know why you know about it.”
Silence.
Then:
“Because I was there.”
My blood ran cold.
“You weren't.”
“I was.”
“How?”
“I wasn't physically there.”
“Then what do you mean?”
“I knew the people involved.”
“Who?”
“Your husband.”
“James wasn't the only one.”
I gripped the phone.
“What are you talking about?”
“You've spent years believing James was a hero.”
“He is my husband.”
“He's not who you think he is.”
“You already said that.”
“No.”
Her voice became quieter.
“You still don't understand.”
“Then explain.”
“He wasn't supposed to survive Blackridge.”
I froze.
“What?”
“He was supposed to die.”
“Why?”
“Because he knew what happened.”
“What happened?”
Lauren laughed.
“You should ask him.”
“I'm asking you.”
“Then I'll give you a clue.”
I waited.
“Your husband didn't save ten civilians.”
“What?”
“He saved nine.”
My heart stopped.
“Who was the tenth?”
Lauren whispered:
“Ask him what happened to the little girl.”
The call ended.
I stared at the phone.
Little girl?
What little girl?
I immediately called James.
No answer.
Again.
Nothing.
I called my father.
He answered.
“Emily?”
“Dad, what happened to the tenth civilian?”
Silence.
“Dad?”
“Where did you hear that?”
“Lauren.”
My father swore under his breath.
“Emily, listen to me.”
“No.”
“Listen.”
“Who was the little girl?”
He didn't answer.
“Dad.”
“I don't know.”
“You're lying.”
“I'm trying to protect you.”
“I don't need protection!”
My voice broke.
“I need the truth.”
He sighed.
“The child's name was Sophie Bennett.”
I closed my eyes.
“What happened to her?”
“We thought she was dead.”
“We?”
“The military.”
“But Lauren said—”
“I know what she said.”
“Is Sophie alive?”
“I don't know.”
My father hung up.
I spent the next two hours searching.
I found nothing.
No Sophie Bennett.
No records.
No obituary.
No birth certificate.
Nothing.
It was as though she had never existed.
Then I remembered the file.
My father's briefcase.
I opened it.
The Blackridge documents were still on the table.
I searched every page.
Then I found it.
A handwritten note.
S.B. — TRANSFERRED.
Below it was a date.
Eight years ago.
And an address.
A children's hospital.
I stared at it.
Then noticed something else.
The handwriting wasn't my father's.
It was Lauren's.
When James finally came home, it was after midnight.
I was waiting in the living room.
He stopped when he saw me.
“You're awake.”
“I know about Sophie.”
His face changed.
“Emily—”
“Who is she?”
He closed the door.
“Where did you hear that name?”
“Lauren.”
He slowly removed his jacket.
“She shouldn't know about Sophie.”
“She does.”
He looked at me.
“What else did she tell you?”
“That you were supposed to die.”
He froze.
“That you saved nine civilians.”
Silence.
“That one girl disappeared.”
Still nothing.
“And that you knew what happened.”
James sat down.
For the first time since I had known him, he looked defeated.
“Sophie wasn't a civilian.”
“What?”
“She was the daughter of someone important.”
“Who?”
James stared at his hands.
“A scientist.”
“What scientist?”
“Dr. Thomas Bennett.”
I frowned.
“Why was he important?”
“Because he had something.”
“What?”
“A list.”
“Of what?”
“People who had been paid to manipulate military contracts.”
I stared at him.
“Corruption.”
“Yes.”
“Blackridge wasn't about rescuing civilians.”
“No.”
My heart sank.
“It was about getting the list.”
James nodded.
“Then why did you tell me it was an extraction?”
“Because that was the official story.”
“And the truth?”
“The truth was that the operation was designed to retrieve Dr. Bennett and his daughter.”
“Did you find him?”
“No.”
“What happened?”
“He was killed.”
“And Sophie?”
James closed his eyes.
“She disappeared.”
I whispered:
“Where?”
“We don't know.”
“But you did.”
His eyes opened.
“You're misunderstanding.”
“Then explain.”
“I found her.”
My heart stopped.
“When?”
“During the operation.”
“Where?”
“In a basement.”
“Was she alive?”
“Yes.”
“Then why did she disappear?”
James looked at me.
“Because I gave her to someone.”
“Who?”
“Lauren.”
I stopped breathing.
“What?”
James's face crumpled.
“I didn't know it was Lauren.”
I stepped backward.
“What are you saying?”
“She was using another name.”
“Why would you give a child to my sister?”
“I didn't know she was your sister.”
“When?”
“Years before we met.”
I couldn't speak.
James continued.
“I was ordered to transfer Sophie to a civilian extraction team.”
“Lauren was part of that team?”
“No.”
“Then who was?”
He stared at me.
“Nathan Reed.”
The room went silent.
“The man who is supposed to be dead?”
“Yes.”
“Then what happened?”
“Reed took Sophie.”
“And Lauren?”
“We thought she had nothing to do with it.”
I stared at him.
“But she did.”
“Yes.”
I felt sick.
“Why?”
James looked at me.
“Because Sophie wasn't just a witness.”
“What was she?”
“She was the key to the entire Blackridge operation.”
“To what?”
“The money.”
“What money?”
James took a breath.
“Billions.”
I couldn't sleep.
At four in the morning, I found James sitting alone in the kitchen.
I stood in the doorway.
“Why didn't you tell me?”
He looked up.
“I was afraid.”
“Of what?”
“That if you knew everything about Blackridge, you'd become a target.”
“I already am.”
“I know.”
“You keep saying you're protecting me.”
“I am.”
“No.”
I shook my head.
“You're protecting yourself from having to admit what happened.”
His eyes filled with pain.
“You're right.”
I hadn't expected that.
He continued:
“I should have told you.”
“Yes.”
“I should have trusted you.”
“Yes.”
“I can't undo that.”
“No.”
He nodded.
Then his phone rang.
He answered.
“Walker.”
A woman's voice spoke.
James immediately stood.
“Who?”
I watched his face change.
He put the phone on speaker.
Lauren's voice filled the kitchen.
“James.”
He said nothing.
“You finally told her?”
“Yes.”
“Good.”
I stepped closer.
“Lauren, where is Sophie?”
Silence.
Then she laughed.
“You really want to know?”
“Yes.”
“Then meet me tomorrow.”
“Where?”
“The church where Mom used to take us.”
My stomach tightened.
“When?”
“Midnight.”
James shook his head.
“That's a trap.”
Lauren continued.
“Come alone, Emily.”
“No.”
“Then Sophie dies.”
My heart stopped.
“You have her?”
“Yes.”
“Let me speak to her.”
“No.”
“How do I know she's alive?”
Lauren was silent.
Then we heard a child's voice in the background.
“Mom?”
I froze.
The voice was older.
But unmistakably frightened.
I looked at James.
His face had gone white.
Lauren whispered:
“Now you know.”
The call ended.
I stood motionless.
James grabbed my hand.
“Emily.”
I could barely speak.
“That was her.”
He nodded.
“Yes.”
“Sophie is alive.”
“Yes.”
“And Lauren has her.”
“Yes.”
I looked toward the dark window.
The Christmas lights were still glowing outside.
But the holiday was over.
Whatever family celebration we had imagined was gone.
There was only the truth now.
A missing girl.
A dead man who wasn't dead.
A sister who had been lying for years.
And a secret that had begun eight years before James and I ever met.
I looked at my husband.
“Tomorrow night, I'm going.”
He shook his head.
“Not alone.”
I nodded.
“No.”
I tightened my grip on his hand.
“We go together.”
James looked at me.
And for the first time since the nightmare began—
he didn't try to stop me.
He simply said:
“Then tomorrow, we end this.”
Neither of us knew that Lauren was already watching our house.
From the darkness across the street.
And she wasn't alone.
Beside her stood a man wearing a black coat.
A scar ran along the side of his neck.
He looked toward the window.
Toward our home.
Toward James.
Then he smiled.
May you like
Colonel Nathan Reed was alive.
And he had been waiting eight years for this night.
