Mara - POV
I'm still holding the phone when Dominic speaks again.
"You're very quiet, Elena. Not like you. Usually you have so much to say."
My throat has closed. I manage something that might be words. "Leave us alone."
"Us?" His voice warms like he's pleased. "You mean you and Lily. Our daughter. She must be beautiful. Does she have your eyes? Your hair? I think about her constantly. Six years without knowing my own child."
"She's not yours."
"Biology says otherwise. Though I suppose we could settle that with a paternity test if you'd like. I have excellent lawyers. They tell me courts don't look kindly on mothers who kidnap children and disappear across state lines."
The kitchen floor tilts. I grab the counter.
"I didn't kidnap anyone. I left."
"Without permission. Without proper custody arrangements. Some might call that parental alienation. But I'm not interested in legal battles, Elena. I just want my family back. Is that so terrible?"
Yes. Yes it is. But I can't say it. Can't push back because pushing back makes things worse. Five years taught me that.
"The postcard was clever," he continues, casual now. Chatting. "Very creative. I hope you're not taking it seriously. You know how you get with these things. Remember the incident with the neighbor's dog? You were convinced it was sending you messages. Your therapist was very concerned."
"That never happened."
"Are you sure? Your memory has always been selective. That's one of the things we worked on together, remember? Distinguishing reality from imagination. I do worry that stress might be triggering another episode. Have you been taking your medication?"
I never took medication. He wanted me to but I refused and then somehow I'd find pills in my purse I didn't remember buying and he'd count them every day to make sure I was taking them properly.
"I'm fine."
"You don't sound fine. You sound anxious. Paranoid, even. Has Lily noticed? Children are so perceptive. They internalize their mother's instability. I'd hate for her to develop issues because of your condition."
My condition. Like I'm sick. Like everything he did to me was just my brain misfiring.
"Why did you call?"
"I told you. Happy anniversary. Seven years since the tragedy with Kira. You took that so hard. Blamed yourself, even though it wasn't your fault. Well." He pauses. "Mostly not your fault. You were quite intoxicated that night. And the argument was rather heated."
"I don't remember arguing with her."
"Of course you don't. Trauma does that. Erases the painful bits. That's why you needed so much help afterward. Why I had to handle everything. The police, the funeral arrangements, your parents. You were in no state to manage anything yourself."
Lily is watching me from the counter. Her eyes too wide. Too scared.
I turn away so she can't see my face.
"I need to go."
"Of course. I'm sure you're busy with your little bakery. Second Rise, isn't it? Clever name. Rising from the ashes. Very poetic." He knows. He knows everything. "I'll let you get back to work. But Elena? About that postcard. If someone is playing games with Kira's memory, that's cruel. Don't fall for it. Don't let your mind create stories that aren't there. You know how that ended last time."
"What do you mean?"
"The night Kira died, you were convinced someone pushed her. You were hysterical, accusing everyone. The police nearly arrested you for filing false reports. I had to intervene. Had to explain about your condition. They were very understanding once they knew the context."
That's not right. That's not how it happened. Is it?
"I have to go," I whisper.
"Think about what I said. About professional help. There are excellent psychiatrists in Portland. I'd be happy to provide references. For Lily's sake if not your own."
He hangs up.
I stand there listening to dead air. My hands are shaking so hard the phone clatters onto the counter.
"Mama?"
I can't look at Lily. Can't let her see me falling apart.
"It's okay, baby. Everything's okay."
"The Tall Man called." Not a question. A statement.
I finally turn. She's climbed down from the counter, still holding her rabbit, looking at me like I'm made of glass about to shatter.
"How do you know about that name?"
"I hear you. At night. When you have bad dreams. You say it. The Tall Man is coming. The Tall Man knows where we are."
Oh god. I've been saying it out loud. In my sleep. And she's been listening.
I kneel in front of her. "Listen to me. That's just a bad dream. It's not real."
"Yes it is. He calls you. And you get scared. And then we have to leave."
"We're not leaving."
"We always leave."
She's right. Three apartments in seven years. Portland is the longest we've stayed anywhere.
"This time is different. We're staying. I promise."
Lily looks at me with those eyes that see everything. "You can't promise that."
No. I can't.
The sky outside is turning grey. Almost dawn. I should try to sleep but my brain won't stop spinning. Dominic knows about the bakery. About Lily's school probably. About everything.
And someone sent a postcard in Kira's handwriting.
And I can't remember if I argued with her before she died.
Can't remember if I was drunk.
Can't remember anything except waking up on the pier soaking wet with Dominic's hands on my shoulders and his voice in my ear telling me what happened because I couldn't remember for myself.
I open the bakery at six thirty like always. Go through the motions. Smile at customers. Make coffee. Sell pastries. Mrs. Kowalski sits by the window with her Polish newspaper and doesn't comment on the circles under my eyes.
At eight fifteen I walk Lily to school. She holds my hand the whole way, something she stopped doing months ago because she's growing up and growing up means being independent.
Today she needs my hand.
At the school entrance she turns. "Mama, if the Tall Man comes, run. Don't try to fight. Just take me and run."
"No one is coming."
She doesn't believe me. I watch her disappear through the doors and stand on the sidewalk trying to breathe normally.
The day drags. Hours blur together. My hands make bread and pastries while my mind replays Dominic's voice. Mrs. Patterson works the afternoon shift and doesn't ask why I keep checking my phone. Why I flinch every time the door opens.
At three I pick up Lily. She's quiet on the walk back. Watches every car like she's memorizing license plates.
At the bakery she pulls out her notebook and starts drawing. Not the Tall Man this time. A car. Black. Expensive looking. Parked across the street.
"Did you see that car today?" I ask.
She nods. "It was at school. In the parking lot."
My blood goes cold. "Are you sure?"
"Yes. It was watching."
Cars don't watch. People do.
Mrs. Patterson leaves at four. The evening is quiet. A few customers. Nothing unusual. I'm telling myself I'm paranoid, that I'm seeing threats that aren't there, that Dominic is in my head making me doubt reality again.
Then the door opens.
The bell chimes and I look up and see him. Tall. Dark coat. Expensive.
Dominic found us.
My hand moves without thinking. The knife. The one behind the register. The sharp one.
"We're closed," I say. My voice doesn't sound like mine.
"Elena Sokolov."
Not Dominic's voice. Different. Familiar in a way that makes my chest hurt.
"I know you probably don't remember me."
I have the knife now. Lily has gone still at the counter.
"Get out. Now."
He raises his hands. Slowly. Carefully. "I'm not here to hurt you. I just need to talk to you about Kira."
The light from the window hits his face and my brain stutters because this isn't Dominic, this is someone else, someone from before everything broke.
"Ethan?"
Ethan Chen. From Ashford. From high school. From the life I had before Dominic.
"Hi, Elena."
I tighten my grip on the knife. "That's not my name."
"I know. I'm sorry. I've been trying to find you for years. Then this came." He pulls out a postcard. Ashford Harbor. "Three days ago."
"Kira is dead."
"Is she?" He turns the postcard so I can see the back. Her handwriting. They lied. I'm alive. Find me. Room 77. K.
Mine said I never left. His says I'm alive.
"This doesn't make sense," I whisper.
"I was there that night, Elena. At the harbor. I saw things. Things that don't match what you were told happened."
"What are you talking about?"
"I'm saying maybe we should go to Ashford. To room seventy-seven. And find out what really happened."
No. Absolutely not. I can't go back there. Can't face Dominic in his territory where he controls everything.
"I have a daughter. I can't."
"I know. I'm not asking you to decide now. I just." He stops. Starts again. "I never stopped looking for you. And I never believed you were the person Dominic said you were. Unstable. Violent. Wrong. You weren't those things. You were just scared."
Something in my chest cracks.
"You need to leave."
He writes something on a receipt. Leaves it on the counter. "My number. If you change your mind."
He walks to the door. Stops. "Elena? Dominic lied about a lot of things. But the biggest lie was making you believe you couldn't trust yourself."
Then he's gone.
I stand there holding the knife, staring at the phone number, trying to piece together memories that don't fit.
Lily climbs down from her stool. Takes my free hand.
"Is he the Tall Man?"
"No."
"Good. Because the Tall Man is coming. I can feel it." She looks up at me. "And we need help."
Out of the mouths of children.
I look at Ethan's phone number. At the postcard in my apron. At my daughter who sees too much.
Somewhere in Ashford, in room seventy-seven, someone is waiting.
And maybe it's time I stopped running.