Chapter 3 - The Apartment Door
I took the address from the pharmacy records and drove to a decaying apartment complex in Astoria.
The hallway smelled of stale smoke and boiled cabbage.
I stood in front of apartment 4B, holding my breath as I knocked on the chipped wooden door.
The lock clicked, and the door slowly creaked open.
The little girl in the yellow dress looked up at me, clutching a worn teddy bear.
She smiled and asked if I was feeling better after my nap on the sidewalk.
I dropped to one knee, overwhelmed by the undeniable fact that this child was my own flesh and blood.
I asked her where her mother was.
She pointed toward a dimly lit bedroom at the end of the narrow hallway.
I walked past her, my heart hammering against my ribs with every step.
I pushed the bedroom door open and saw a frail woman lying under a thin blanket.
She turned her head toward the light, and the world completely stopped spinning.
It was Clara.
She was my former executive assistant and the only woman I had ever truly loved.
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But that was entirely impossible.
I had buried Clara seven years ago after she supposedly burned to death in a horrific car crash on the interstate.
