I picked up the evidence bag again.
There was something else inside.
A hospital identification bracelet.
My name was printed on it.
But beneath my name was another patient’s number.
I knew that number.
I had seen it before.
It belonged to the patient who had been brought into the emergency room the same night as me.
A patient the doctors had told me had died.
My breath caught.
Then I noticed something written on the bottom of the photograph.
A date.
The date was two days after my accident.
That was impossible.
I had been unconscious in the hospital.
So who had taken the photograph?
And why had Richard kept it?
I heard the mattress move behind me.
“Emma?”
I spun around.
Richard was awake.
His eyes immediately dropped to the evidence bag in my hand.
For a moment, neither of us spoke.
Then he slowly sat up.
“Where did you get that?”
