Chapter 8 - THE GIRL WHO REMEMBERED THE SONG
Rosewood had closed twelve years earlier.
The building stood beyond a line of bare trees.
Its windows were boarded.
Its playground rusted.
Detective Ruiz arrived with two officers.
Vincent insisted on accompanying them.
I refused to remain behind.
Nobody argued.
Inside, the building smelled of dust and damp plaster.
Old photographs lined the hallway.
Children smiling.
Teachers standing beside them.
A Christmas tree.
A summer picnic.
Then Vincent stopped.
He stared at one photograph.
A little girl stood near the edge of the group.
Dark curls.
Round cheeks.
A purple bow.
My breath caught.
"Sofia?"
Vincent stepped closer.
The photograph was dated two years after the car bombing.
His hands began trembling.
"That's her."
Ruiz examined the picture.
"We need to verify it."
Vincent barely heard her.
He touched the glass.
"My little girl."
For fourteen years, he'd been told Sofia was probably dead.
Now a photograph suggested she had survived.
Ruiz contacted the former director of Rosewood.
Her name was Margaret Ellis.
She lived in Wisconsin.
When she arrived, she looked frightened.
Vincent placed the photograph before her.
"Who is this child?"
Margaret stared.
Then closed her eyes.
"I wondered when someone would come."
Vincent leaned forward.
"Where is she?"
Margaret swallowed.
"She was brought to Rosewood under another name."
"What name?"
"Sarah."
Vincent's face tightened.
"Who brought her?"
Margaret hesitated.
"A man."
"Name."
"Adrian Marquetti."
Silence.
Vincent looked as though someone had struck him.
Margaret began crying.
"He said the child had survived a terrible accident. He claimed her father was dangerous."
Vincent stared.
"And you believed him?"
"He had documents. Court papers. Medical records."
"Forged," Ruiz said quietly.
Margaret nodded.
"I know that now."
Vincent's voice broke.
"Where is my daughter?"
Margaret looked down.
"She was transferred to a private foster placement."
"Where?"
"I don't know her current address."
Vincent stood.
"Then find it."
Ruiz intervened.
"We'll trace the records."
Margaret reached into her handbag.
"I kept something."
She produced a small envelope.
Inside was a drawing.
A house.
A tree.
A little girl.
And a man holding her hand.
Underneath, in childish handwriting, were the words:
DADDY WILL FIND ME.
Vincent stared.
Then he sat down heavily.
For the first time since I'd met him, he cried.
Not quietly.
Not politely.
He covered his face and sobbed.
I knelt beside him.
He looked at me.
"She was alive."
I nodded.
"Yes."
"All those years."
His voice broke.
"I stopped looking."
I took his hand.
"You didn't know."
He shook his head.
"I should have."
I thought of Lily.
Of how desperately I wanted to hold her again.
Then I looked at the drawing.
A little girl who had waited for her father.
And a father who had never stopped loving her.
I squeezed Vincent's hand.
"Then we find her now."
He looked at me.
For the first time, I saw hope in his eyes.
But the moment didn't last.
Ruiz's phone rang.
She answered.
Listened.
Then her expression changed.
"Elena," she said.
My heart stopped.
"What?"
"We have a location connected to Marcus Velez."
I stood.
"Where?"
Ruiz looked at Vincent.
"An abandoned medical facility outside Joliet."
I grabbed my coat.
"Let's go."
But Ruiz raised a hand.
"There's something else."
I stared.
"What?"
"The property was recently purchased through a company linked to Adrian."
Vincent's expression turned cold.
Ruiz continued.
"And according to the records, someone has been living there for years."
A young woman.
Approximately nineteen.
Registered under the name Sarah Ellis.
Vincent stopped breathing.
Sofia.
May you like
His daughter.
And possibly the only person who could tell us where Lily was being held.
