Chapter 1 - Two Babies Crying
The rain had turned the mansion driveway into black glass.
Emma woke to an empty nursery.
“Sophie?”
No answer.
Then she heard the front door slam.
Barefoot and wearing only her cream satin pajamas, Emma ran downstairs.
Through the rain-streaked glass she saw Eleanor crossing the driveway with a crying baby in her arms.
“Sophie!”
Emma threw open the door.
Eleanor had already reached the large blue wheeled trash bin beside the driveway.
She lifted the lid.
Emma stopped breathing.
“No!”
Eleanor lowered the baby inside.
The pink hood disappeared below the rim.
Then Eleanor slammed the lid shut.
Emma ran into the rain.
“WHERE IS MY CHILD?!”
She struck Eleanor twice and grabbed the front of her black raincoat.
Eleanor stared at her without remorse.
“Where she belongs.”
Emma’s eyes snapped toward the bin.
She dragged Eleanor toward it.
“Did you lock Sophie in there?!”
Eleanor kicked free.
Emma slipped and crashed onto the muddy driveway.
“She never should have been allowed to come home!”
Emma looked up.
Near the gate stood Claire.
Yellow raincoat.
Blonde hair soaked beneath the hood.
Watching.
“Open it,” Emma shouted.
Eleanor did not move.
Emma pushed herself upright and reached for the lid.
“Emma—wait!”
Claire’s voice stopped her.
Emma slowly turned.
Claire was staring at the bin as if she had seen a ghost.
“That isn’t the first place Eleanor put Sophie.”
Emma’s face changed.
Then crying erupted from inside the blue container.
A baby.
Loud.
Desperate.
Emma spun back toward it.
Before she could touch the lid—
another infant cry floated from inside the mansion.
Emma froze.
One cry outside.
One cry inside.
“Why are there two babies crying?”
Eleanor glanced toward the house.
For the first time, her face showed terror.
Claire whispered:
“Because one of them isn’t Sophie.”
Emma looked at the bin.
Then at the mansion.
“Which one?”
Neither woman answered.
The second cry came again.
From upstairs.
From Sophie’s nursery.
Emma started toward the house.
Eleanor grabbed her wrist.
“No.”
Emma ripped free.
“Who is upstairs?”
Eleanor’s voice broke.
“If you see her, you’ll never forgive me.”
Emma stared.
“Her?”
Claire stepped forward through the rain.
“Emma…”
She swallowed.
“You were never supposed to bring Sophie home from St. Catherine’s.”
Emma stopped.
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St. Catherine’s was the private maternity hospital where Sophie had been born eleven months earlier.
And Claire had never once mentioned that name before.
