Chapter 2 - THE GIRL WITH THE BROKEN DOLL
“My mom died, too,” the little girl whispered. “When I was five.”
Michael froze.
Rain slid from the brim of his coat and ran down his face, but he barely noticed.
For six months, people had told him that grief eventually became easier.
They were wrong.
Grief did not become easier.
You simply became more practiced at hiding it.
But this child wasn't hiding anything.
She stood barefoot in the freezing rain, clutching a broken doll against her chest as though it were the only thing in the world she could still trust.
Michael slowly crouched so they were eye to eye.
“What’s your name?”
The girl hesitated.
“Lily.”
“Lily what?”
She looked toward the trees.
“Just Lily.”
Michael glanced around.
There was no adult nearby.
No car.
No umbrella.
No one searching for her.
His expression hardened.
“Where is your father?”
Lily's fingers tightened around the doll.
“I don't have one.”
“Your grandparents?”
She shook her head.
“Anyone?”
Again, she shook her head.
Michael felt something twist inside him.
“How long have you been out here?”
Lily looked at the dark sky.
“I don't know.”
“You've been here all night?”
“No.”
She paused.
“Sometimes I sleep behind the grocery store.”
Michael stared at her.
Behind the grocery store.
The words were so casually spoken that they frightened him more than if she had cried.
He removed his coat.
Lily immediately stepped backward.
“You're cold.”
“So are you.”
“I'll be okay.”
“No, you won't.”
The words came out more sharply than Michael intended.
Lily flinched.
Michael softened his voice.
“I'm sorry.”
She studied him.
Then she looked at the photograph in his hand.
“That's your wife?”
Michael nodded.
“She was pretty.”
“She was.”
“Do you miss her?”
“Every second.”
Lily looked down.
“I miss my mom every second, too.”
For a moment, neither spoke.
Then Lily's stomach growled.
Loudly.
Michael heard it.
So did she.
Her face turned red.
“When was the last time you ate?”
She shrugged.
“Yesterday.”
“What did you eat?”
“A piece of bread.”
Michael stood.
“Come with me.”
Lily immediately shook her head.
“I can't.”
“Why?”
“I don't know you.”
Michael almost smiled.
For the first time in months, someone had given him a reason to.
“That's fair.”
He took out his phone.
“I'll call my driver.”
Lily's eyes widened.
“You have a driver?”
“Yes.”
“You're rich?”
Michael looked toward the mansion lights visible through the trees.
“Unfortunately.”
Lily tilted her head.
“Why unfortunately?”
“Because sometimes money doesn't fix anything.”
She considered this.
“Can money buy dinner?”
Michael laughed.
It was a small laugh.
But it was the first real laugh anyone had heard from him in months.
“Yes.”
“Then maybe being rich isn't so bad.”
Michael smiled.
“Come on.”
Lily took one step.
Then stopped.
“What about my doll?”
“Bring her.”
“She needs a name.”
“What’s her name?”
“Hope.”
Michael looked at the broken doll.
Hope's plastic arm was cracked. One shoe was missing. Her dress was stained with mud.
“That's a good name.”
Lily followed him.
But as they walked toward the waiting car, Michael noticed something strange.
The little girl wasn't looking at the mansion.
She was looking at him.
And there was something in her expression that made his heart ache.
Almost as if she already knew him.
Twenty minutes later, Lily sat at Michael's enormous dining table.
She stared at the food.
A bowl of chicken soup.
Warm bread.
Mashed potatoes.
Roasted vegetables.
Fresh fruit.
She didn't move.
Michael sat across from her.
“You can eat.”
Lily looked suspiciously at him.
“All of it?”
“As much as you want.”
She slowly picked up the spoon.
Then she began eating.
At first, carefully.
Then faster.
Michael watched her.
After a few minutes, she began crying.
Michael immediately stood.
“Are you hurt?”
She shook her head.
“Then what's wrong?”
“I forgot what warm food tasted like.”
Michael sat back down.
His throat tightened.
He looked around the enormous dining room.
For six months, this table had represented everything he'd lost.
Now, for the first time, it held something alive.
Something fragile.
Something that needed him.
Lily finished the soup.
Then she looked at Michael.
“Are you still hungry?”
Michael smiled sadly.
“Yes.”
“For what?”
He looked at Emily's empty chair.
“For home.”
Lily quietly pushed her bread toward him.
“You can have some of mine.”
Michael stared at the small piece of bread.
Then something broke inside him.
He reached across the table and accepted it.
“Thank you.”
Lily smiled.
But before either of them could speak again, Michael heard footsteps.
His longtime housekeeper, Mrs. Eleanor Hayes, appeared in the doorway.
She stopped dead when she saw Lily.
Her face turned pale.
The tray in her hands nearly fell.
“Mr. Hartman…”
Michael looked at her.
“What?”
Eleanor stared at the child.
Then at the broken doll.
Then back at Michael.
“I think…”
Her voice trembled.
“I think you need to know who that little girl is.”
Michael's expression changed.
“Why?”
Eleanor swallowed.
“Because I have seen that doll before.”
Lily suddenly dropped her spoon.
The color drained from her face.
And for the first time since entering the mansion, she looked terrified.
“Please,” she whispered.
“Don't call the police.”
Michael stood.
“Why would I call the police?”
Lily's eyes filled with tears.
“Because that's what they always do when they find me.”
The dining room fell silent.
Michael slowly walked toward her.
“Who are you running from?”
Lily looked toward the window.
May you like
And whispered four words that made Michael's blood run cold.
“Your brother's men.”
