PART 2: THE SHADOW OF THE PAST
The dusty garage was lit only by the single bulb dangling from the ceiling. Resting in the center of the concrete floor was a locked wooden chest covered in Egyptian carvings, surrounded by dozens of old news clippings from Cairo.
My knees hit the ground as tears blinded my vision. Sticking out from beneath the chest was a small, dusty teddy bear with a faded red ribbon around its neck—Tara’s favorite toy, the one she had been holding the very day she vanished.
My hands shook violently as I forced open the rusted lock on the chest. Inside lay stack after stack of yellowed journals, audio cassette tapes, and a detailed map of our old neighborhood in Egypt marked with red ink.
At the very bottom of the trunk was a tape recorder with a small note taped to the top: Press play, Mom.
I pressed the button with a trembling finger. The static hissed through the dark garage, and then a deep, familiar voice filled the room, sending a wave of absolute horror straight through my heart.
It was my husband’s voice, recorded two decades ago, admitting to a secret he had carried to his grave.
(The shocking confession on the tape changes everything! Click “Next Page” to continue reading…)
