Chapter 2: The Photograph
Nobody moved.
The salon seemed to shrink around us.
I stared at the photograph on Adrian's phone.
The woman in it was unmistakably me.
But she looked nothing like the person sitting in the chair.
Her hair was shoulder-length.
Her face was bright.
She wore a cream-colored coat and smiled at the camera.
I looked happy.
Alive.
Free.
The man beside me wore a dark suit.
His face was turned slightly toward the camera.
I recognized him.
I didn't know from where.
But something inside me reacted before my mind could.
My stomach twisted.
My hands began shaking.
“Who is he?”” I asked.
Margaret looked toward the locked door.
“Not here.””
“Who is he?””
“Evelyn, lower your voice.””
“No.””
My voice echoed through the empty salon.
“You said you wanted to help me. You paid ninety thousand dollars to cut my hair. You brought me here. Now tell me who that man is.””
Adrian looked between us.
“Margaret,” he said, “I think she deserves an answer.””
Margaret closed her eyes.
When she opened them, the composure was gone.
“He was your fiancé.””
I laughed.
It came out wrong.
A small, broken sound.
“No.””
“Yes.””
“I was never engaged.””
“You were.””
I stared at the photograph again.
“How could I forget my own fiancé?””
Margaret's face hardened.
“Because forgetting was part of the plan.””
Adrian slowly placed his phone on the counter.
“Whose plan?””
Margaret didn't answer.
“Margaret,” Adrian said.
She looked at him.
“Her name was Victor Hale.””
I froze.
The name meant nothing.
Then everything.
A flash.
Rain against glass.
A man's hand around my wrist.
A basement door.
A red light.
A voice saying, Don't make me do this.
I gasped.
Adrian caught my shoulder.
“Easy.””
“I remember.””
Margaret stepped forward.
“What?””
“I remember a room.””
My breathing became shallow.
“There was no window.””
“What else?”” she asked.
“A chair.””
“Evelyn, what happened?””
“I don't know.””
I pressed my palms against my temples.
“There was a machine.””
Adrian exchanged a glance with Margaret.
“What kind of machine?”” he asked.
“I don't know.””
My head throbbed.
“A light. A red light.””
Then another memory surfaced.
A woman's voice.
Soft.
Almost maternal.
He'll come back when you're ready.
I opened my eyes.
“There was a woman.””
Margaret went completely still.
“Did you see her face?””
“No.””
“Did she say her name?””
I shook my head.
But then I remembered something.
“She called me sweetheart.””
Margaret's face drained of color.
Adrian noticed.
“You know who that was.””
Margaret looked toward the windows.
“I have an idea.””
“Tell me.””
“I can't.””
“Why?””
“Because if I'm right, she is the reason you survived.””
I stared at her.
“Survived what?””
Margaret didn't answer.
Adrian moved toward the door.
“I'm going to get security.””
Margaret grabbed his arm.
“No.””
“Why?””
“Because the person who locked that door may already be inside the building.””
Adrian stopped.
Silence.
Then the lights flickered.
Once.
Twice.
The salon went dark.
I screamed.
Something struck the floor.
Glass shattered.
Adrian shouted, “Stay down!””
I crouched behind the chair.
Footsteps moved somewhere beyond the mirrors.
Slow.
Measured.
Coming closer.
Then a voice spoke from the darkness.
“Evelyn?””
My entire body went cold.
I knew that voice.
I didn't know how.
But I knew it.
The emergency lights clicked on.
A man stood at the salon entrance.
Black coat.
Gray hair.
Calm eyes.
He looked directly at me.
“It's been ten years,” he said.
Adrian stepped in front of me.
“Who are you?””
The man smiled.
“Ask Margaret.””
I looked at her.
She was trembling.
Not from fear.
From recognition.
“Margaret,” I whispered.
She couldn't look at me.
The man reached into his coat.
Adrian moved forward.
“Don't.””
The man pulled out a small envelope.
He tossed it onto the floor.
It slid beneath my chair.
“Open it,” he said.
I stared at the envelope.
My name was written across it.
Not Evelyn Hart.
Another name.
A name I had never heard.
Except it was written in my own handwriting.
The man turned toward the door.
“There's one more thing you should know.””
He paused.
“Victor Hale wasn't the mastermind.””
Then he walked away.
The door slammed shut.
May you like
I looked down at the envelope.
And for the first time in ten years, I was terrified of discovering who I really was.
