Chapter 4
1945 Words
CHAPTER FOUR
FIND THE REAL LIANA
For several seconds, nobody moved.
The church was swallowed by darkness.
Then the emergency lights flickered on.
Red.
Dim.
Unsteady.
I stared at the empty coffin.
A moment ago, there had been a body inside it.
A woman with my face.
Now there was nothing.
Only white fabric.
And four words written across it.
FIND THE REAL LIANA.
My heart hammered against my ribs.
“Where is she?”
My father rushed toward the coffin.
My mother stood frozen.
Sienna was crying.
Detective Rowan immediately pulled out his phone.
“Lock the doors.”
Nobody moved.
He shouted louder.
“LOCK THE DOORS!”
Two security guards rushed toward the church entrance.
I looked around.
Hundreds of people.
Hundreds of possible witnesses.
And yet nobody had seen the body disappear.
“How?”
I whispered.
Rowan heard me.
“That is what we're going to find out.”
He walked toward the coffin.
I followed.
“Don't touch anything.”
“Why?”
“There could be evidence.”
I stared at the empty space.
“There was a woman here.”
“I know.”
“She looked exactly like me.”
“I know.”
“And now she's gone.”
“I know.”
I turned toward him.
“You keep saying you know.”
His eyes met mine.
“Because I've been investigating this longer than you realize.”
“How long?”
“Sixteen years.”
My stomach dropped.
“Since Amara disappeared?”
He nodded.
“Since the first child disappeared.”
I stared at him.
“You've been investigating this for sixteen years?”
“Yes.”
“Then why didn't you find her?”
“Because every time I got close, someone erased the evidence.”
“Who?”
He looked at my mother.
She lowered her eyes.
I felt something inside me snap.
“Stop looking at my mother.”
Rowan looked at me.
“Why?”
“Because everybody keeps looking at her like she knows everything.”
“She does.”
My mother suddenly spoke.
“I don't.”
I turned toward her.
“You know more than you're telling me.”
“Yes.”
The admission stunned me.
She walked toward me.
“I don't know who took Amara.”
“Then what do you know?”
“I know why they wanted her.”
“Why?”
She hesitated.
“Because of you.”
My stomach twisted.
“Me?”
She nodded.
“You were the reason they took her.”
I stared at her.
“I was six years old.”
“I know.”
“How could I possibly be the reason?”
My mother looked at my father.
He shook his head.
But she continued.
“Because you saw something.”
“What?”
“A room.”
I frowned.
“What room?”
“You told us there was a room underneath the old house.”
I tried to remember.
Nothing.
My mother continued.
“You said Amara took you there.”
My heart skipped.
“Amara took me?”
“Yes.”
“What was inside?”
“You never told us.”
“Why?”
“Because after you returned home, you stopped speaking.”
I stared at her.
“I stopped speaking?”
“For almost three months.”
A memory flickered.
A little girl.
Amara holding my hand.
A staircase.
A door.
A red light above it.
Then—
Nothing.
I grabbed my head.
“Liana?”
“I remember something.”
My mother stepped toward me.
“What?”
“A door.”
“What kind?”
“Metal.”
My father went pale.
“What did you see?”
“I don't know.”
“Try.”
I closed my eyes.
Another flash.
Amara stood beside me.
She was crying.
Someone was behind the door.
A man's voice.
“Bring the girl inside.”
Amara shook her head.
“No.”
The voice became angry.
“Bring her inside!”
Amara grabbed my hand.
“Run.”
We ran.
Then someone caught us.
A hand covered my mouth.
A needle.
Pain.
Darkness.
I opened my eyes.
I was back in the church.
Everyone was staring at me.
“What happened?” Rowan asked.
I could barely breathe.
“I remember.”
“What?”
“Amara didn't disappear.”
My mother covered her mouth.
I looked at her.
“They took both of us.”
Silence.
My father shook his head.
“No.”
“Yes.”
“You were found alone.”
“No.”
“I was there.”
He looked at me.
“You were six.”
“I remember.”
“You can't.”
“Why?”
“Because you were unconscious.”
I stared at him.
“What?”
He swallowed.
“You were unconscious for three days.”
I stepped backward.
Three days.
The same number.
Three days ago, a body had supposedly been found.
Three days ago, I had supposedly died.
Three days.
The number followed me everywhere.
I turned toward Rowan.
“Where was I found?”
“Outside your house.”
“Who found me?”
“Your father.”
I looked at him.
“You found me?”
He nodded.
“What did I look like?”
His eyes filled with tears.
“You were barely conscious.”
“Was Amara with me?”
“No.”
“She was.”
He shook his head.
“She wasn't.”
“I remember her.”
“You were hallucinating.”
“No.”
I looked at my mother.
“Did you see me?”
She nodded.
“What did I say?”
Her lips trembled.
“You kept repeating one sentence.”
“What sentence?”
She looked at me.
“You kept saying…”
She stopped.
“Mom.”
“What?”
“You kept saying, ‘She's still inside.’”
My blood ran cold.
“Inside where?”
“You never told us.”
I looked toward the church doors.
The man who had been watching me earlier was gone.
I suddenly noticed something else.
The people who had attended the funeral were leaving unusually quickly.
Too quickly.
Some didn't even look at the coffin.
Others were speaking quietly into phones.
I grabbed Rowan's arm.
“Stop them.”
“Why?”
“They know something.”
He looked around.
Then nodded.
“Security!”
The doors were locked.
But it was too late.
Half the guests were already gone.
Rowan's phone rang.
He answered.
“Yes?”
His expression changed.
“What?”
He listened.
Then looked at me.
“The morgue.”
“What happened?”
“The second body is gone.”
I felt sick.
“Both bodies?”
“Yes.”
“Who took them?”
“We don't know.”
“Where were they?”
“One was supposed to be here.”
“And the other?”
“The other was in a secure morgue.”
I stared at him.
“How could someone remove a body from a secure morgue?”
He didn't answer.
Then his phone rang again.
This time, he didn't speak.
He simply listened.
His face became pale.
“What?”
He ended the call.
“What happened?” I asked.
He looked at me.
“They found something.”
“What?”
“A video.”
“Of what?”
“Your funeral.”
I frowned.
“Someone recorded this?”
“No.”
He turned his phone toward me.
“The recording was made six hours before the funeral began.”
I stared at the screen.
A video played.
It showed the church.
Empty.
The coffin was already there.
Flowers were already arranged.
Everything was prepared.
Then someone entered the frame.
A woman.
My face.
She walked toward the coffin.
Opened it.
Placed the body inside.
Then stepped back.
I stared at the screen.
“That woman…”
Rowan nodded.
“That's you.”
“No.”
The woman on the screen turned toward the camera.
She was wearing the same clothes I was wearing now.
The same necklace.
The same shoes.
Everything.
Then she smiled.
And walked out.
I couldn't breathe.
The video continued.
Five minutes later, another woman entered.
She looked exactly like me too.
She walked toward the coffin.
Then she placed a small envelope on top of the body.
The video paused.
Rowan opened the envelope.
Inside was a photograph.
He handed it to me.
I looked down.
My blood turned cold.
It was a photograph of three little girls.
Me.
Amara.
And another girl.
A girl I had never seen before.
On the back was a message.
THERE WERE NEVER TWO SISTERS.
I turned the photograph over again.
Three girls.
Three identical necklaces.
Three names.
Liana.
Amara.
And a third name.
MAYA.
I looked at my mother.
“Who is Maya?”
She didn't answer.
“Mom.”
She stepped backward.
“Who is Maya?”
My father grabbed her hand.
But she pulled away.
Her face had gone completely white.
“She was supposed to be the first one.”
“The first what?”
“The first daughter they took.”
I looked at Rowan.
“How many daughters did my mother have?”
He stared at the photograph.
Then answered quietly.
“Three.”
I shook my head.
“No.”
He looked at me.
“Your mother told you she had three daughters.”
I waited.
“But records show she only ever had two.”
My heart stopped.
“What happened to the third?”
Rowan looked at the photograph.
“She was erased before she was born.”
I stared at him.
“That doesn't make sense.”
“It will.”
“How?”
He stepped closer.
“Because Maya wasn't your mother's daughter.”
I frowned.
“Then whose daughter was she?”
He looked directly into my eyes.
“That's what we've been trying to find out.”
My phone vibrated.
Unknown number.
I opened the message.
There was no text.
Only a photograph.
I stared at it.
My hands began shaking.
It was an old photograph of me and Amara.
We were standing in front of the same metal door I had just remembered.
But behind us stood another person.
A young woman.
Her face had been scratched out.
Underneath the photograph were five words.
YOU WERE NEVER THE ONE THEY WANTED.
Another message appeared.
AMARA WAS.
Then another.
AND SHE'S ALIVE.
I looked up.
“Rowan.”
He was already staring at the church entrance.
“What?”
“There.”
A woman stood outside.
Long dark hair.
Black coat.
Silver necklace.
She slowly lowered her hood.
I knew her face.
Everyone in the church knew her face.
She looked exactly like the woman who had been lying in the coffin.
But she wasn't dead.
She was standing outside.
Alive.
She looked directly at me.
Then she smiled.
And mouthed:
“You finally remembered.”
I ran toward the doors.
Rowan grabbed my arm.
“Don't!”
“That's Amara!”
He pulled me back.
“No.”
I stared at him.
“Why?”
His expression was terrified.
“Because I know that woman.”
“Who is she?”
He swallowed.
“She isn't Amara.”
I froze.
“Then who is she?”
Rowan looked toward the empty doorway.
The woman had disappeared.
He whispered:
“She's the woman who killed Amara.”
And somewhere behind us, the coffin lid slowly closed by itself.
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