PART 5 – Sebastian Finally Explained Why Sophie Had Brought Him to My Door, and I Realized My Daughter’s Story Might Not Have Ended Where I Thought

The sedan moved through the morning traffic without much conversation.

I sat in the passenger seat with the leather folder resting on my knees.

Every few minutes, I opened it and looked at the photograph again.

I wasn't sure what I expected to find by studying it.

A new detail, perhaps.

Some small thing I had overlooked the first time.

But the face remained the same, and so did the feeling in my chest.

"How long have you had that picture?" I asked.

Sebastian kept his eyes on the road.

"Not very long."

"That doesn't tell me much."

"No, Doctor. It doesn't."

I turned toward him.

"You seem to know a great deal about me. I'd like to know what you know and how you came to know it."

"That's fair."

He didn't say anything more.

I watched the buildings pass outside the window.

I had spent most of my adult life asking people direct questions and expecting direct answers.

In the emergency department, hesitation could cost someone precious time.

But this wasn't a hospital, and Sebastian wasn't a patient.

Whatever he had come to tell me, he was choosing his words carefully.

I didn't know whether that was because he wanted to protect me or because he was afraid of what I might do with the information.

I looked down at the folder.

"Does Sophie know about this?"

"No."

"Does her mother?"

Sebastian took a moment before answering.

"She knows there are things that need to be discussed. She doesn't know everything."

I remembered the young woman's face outside the operating area.

I remembered how she had repeated my name.

"She recognized me."

"I believe she recognized your name."

"Why?"

"I think that will become clearer when we arrive."

I leaned back in the seat.

I disliked the answer, but I could tell that pressing him now would accomplish little.

The car continued along the road.

My hands had stopped shaking, although I could still feel a faint tremor in my fingers whenever I touched the edge of the photograph.

I had not felt this kind of uncertainty in years.

Grief was painful, but at least it was familiar.

I knew where it lived.

I knew which rooms brought it back, which dates made it worse, and which memories I had to approach carefully.

This was different.

This was the possibility that something I had accepted as settled might not be settled at all.

I wasn't ready to call that hope.

Hope had become a dangerous word in my life.

Sebastian turned onto a quieter road.

After several minutes, he slowed near a building set back from the street.

It wasn't a hospital.

It wasn't a police station.

It looked like an office, with broad windows and a modest entrance.

He parked and switched off the engine.

"We're here."

I stayed in my seat.

"Before we go inside, tell me whether this has anything to do with the accident that killed Emily and Lucy."

Sebastian turned toward me.

"It concerns Emily."

I waited.

"And Sophie?"

"She is connected to what I need to explain."

I closed my eyes briefly.

That was still not enough.

But it was the first time he had spoken as though he understood that I needed more than reassurance.

I opened the car door.

The air outside was cooler than I expected.

Sebastian retrieved the folder and led me toward the entrance.

Inside, the building was quiet.

There was a desk near the front, a few chairs against the wall, and a hallway leading farther into the building.

Nothing about the place explained why I had been brought there.

Sebastian spoke briefly with someone at the desk.

Then he turned back to me.

"This way, Doctor."

I followed him into a small private room.

There was a table, several chairs, and a glass of water already waiting.

Sebastian placed the folder on the table.

I remained standing.

"I want you to understand something," I said. "I have spent three years trying to accept that my daughter and granddaughter are gone. I don't want anyone offering me a story because they think it will make me feel better."

He looked at me steadily.

"I wouldn't do that."

"Then tell me what this is."

Sebastian pulled out a chair but didn't sit until I did.

He placed the photograph between us.

"I was asked to find you because of Sophie and because of your connection to Emily."

"Who asked you?"

He paused.

"Someone who believed you deserved to know the truth."

I felt anger rising again.

"Everyone seems to know what I deserve except me."

Sebastian lowered his gaze to the photograph.

"I understand why you're angry."

"No, you understand that I'm angry. That's not the same thing."

He accepted that without argument.

For a moment, neither of us spoke.

Then he opened the folder and removed another sheet of paper.

He placed it beside the photograph.

I looked at the page, then at him.

"What is that?"

"Something I want you to see before I explain the rest."

I leaned forward.

My medical training had taught me to examine what was in front of me before deciding what it meant.

So I did exactly that.

I studied the paper.

I looked at the photograph again.

Then I raised my eyes to Sebastian.

"Start at the beginning," I said.

And this time, he did.

Click here to continue reading: PART 6: The Name on the Paper Led Me Back to the Hospital Corridor, Where a Frightened Young Mother Had Looked at Me as If She Knew My Past