Wallace swallowed a pill and seconds later downed another. It had long since become routine, with new medications added over time, and now she had almost lost track of them. The daily pills and capsules nearly replaced a meal for her. And Wallace's day's work was far from over, but that was probably the least of her problems. Suddenly, she felt a tickle in her chest, coughed violently, and laid her head on the dining room table. The wood felt good, familiar, and safe. As she began to feel the spasm in her airways gradually release, she carefully sat up again. She looked at the picture of her late husband Simon, which hung above the small sideboard in the kitchen that had come from his mother's inheritance.

"I never got over it, did I?" She thought her husband's picture had shown some emotion, even though she knew it only existed in her imagination. "And now, many years later, these terrible things are happening. Is it late justice? But what should I have done? Carl and Dennis were not allowed to know the whole truth. Yes, the uncertainty was terrible for them, probably hard to bear. But if the uncertainty was terrible, what would the truth have been like?"

Wallace thought she knew what her husband would say if he were still with her.

Uncertainty is far worse than the most terrible truth. Because the truth is like an opponent, you can fight. Maybe you win, maybe you lose. But you know who the enemy is, and you can look him in the eye. Uncertainty, on the other hand, is like the wind. Always there, always around you, but always invisible and never to be grasped. You should have told the twins. Even if it would have been horrible for them.

"You're right." She smiled at the image, even if it was a wistful smile. "But I believe there are also cases where it is better to chase the wind. Unlike a real enemy, it can't kill you. I was in the most terrible situation of my life back then, and you know I've been in many terrible situations in my life. I could have done whatever I wanted; it would always have been wrong. There was no way to prevent the catastrophe; I could only lose."

Wallace shook her head shamefacedly when she realized what her husband would have answered.

The twins were the ones who could only lose. You made sure that at least they didn't lose everything. Not each other, not their lives. And even if it's a life in the darkness of their trauma, it's still a life.

"And now what? The boy wants me to be able to close the book. He wants to force the BPD to finally find out who did this to me. To me! He really thinks he's doing all this for me!" She looked casually at the pillbox on the table in front of her. What if she just stopped taking the pills and capsules? She looked at her husband again. "I guess I'm not allowed to take that route. What do you think?"

She gazed at the picture for a long time. It was taken in Tel Aviv during their honeymoon; Simon was beaming happily at the camera. That was many decades ago, long before the affair with Carl and Dennis. Back then, before she had become Lady Firehand. Simon had wanted to live a quiet life with her, far away from organ traders and child murderers. Maybe even in a place like Boston, somewhere out there where it was peaceful. But he had realized that it was his Esther's destiny to face evil.

"Someone has to do it," he had always said. "Evil doesn't go away when you ignore it. It just grows, and eventually, it comes for you."

"... and eventually it comes for you. How right you were once again." Wallace thought, if only briefly. "I think I know who I need to talk to now." She smiled at Simon's picture, kissed him, rose from the kitchen table, and walked with heavy but determined steps into the hallway. She hesitated briefly at the sideboard. Finally, she overcame her concerns and picked up her cell phone. She dialed the number without even having to think about it.

It took a while for someone to pick up the call. "Esther? Is that you?" The voice on the other end of the line sounded concerned and surprised.

Wallace noticed her hands begin to tremble.

Evil doesn't go away when you ignore it. You have to do it! "It's about those seven kidnapped children." Her voice cracked.

"I thought you might call."

Wallace closed her eyes and let a few seconds pass. Could she really do this? Could she say what she had never told anyone before? Could she reveal her greatest secret and burden another person with the horror?

"Hello?" it sounded from the cell phone. 'What's wrong, why are you calling?'

Wallace turned around and looked at her husband's picture through the open kitchen door. Only then did she answer, 'It's all right. I guess I'd better tell you some other time.'

xxx

20 years earlier

"Dennis is weak, but I'm here. As a big brother and protector! I'm a minute older."

Esther Wallace held Carl's hand. Cold and shaky, but the boy held up well despite the circumstances. He had already been examined in the ambulance, and here in the hospital, he had also passed the first medical tests with reassuring results. But it was only after he and Dennis had been at the hospital for more than an hour that the boy began to speak to Wallace in clear, coherent sentences.

"Where are Mommy and Daddy?" Carl broke away and jumped up from the uncomfortable bench in the waiting area. He walked aimlessly back and forth on the green linoleum floor, looking through every open door he could see without sense or reason. Until then, the boy had mainly uttered confused and mostly incoherent sentence fragments, even during his initial examination. However, the doctors' actions so far seemed to have the effect that the child's mind began to clear. Even if this brought with it the unpleasant side effect of realization.

"It's about you and Dennis for now." Wallace had also stood up from the bench.

"Dennis just fell over, but we had the zebra!"

The way he had stood there earlier when Wallace had taken him and Dennis out of the bunker. Neglected, smelly, confused. She had found the boy bent over Dennis. He had been trying to sing the lyrics to the song that had been playing continuously in the next room as if he could help Dennis to come to again.

"You both are powerful!" Wallace gently took Carl by the chin with her left hand and stroked his now-washed hair with her right. "Everything will be fine."

The words had just slipped out. An anxious, clumsy reflex, stupid, and inappropriate. How could the world of these children ever be all right again? And how long would it take to prevent them from telling them what had happened to their parents? She couldn't tell the twins what Wallace knew. But she couldn't withhold it from them either. At least not everything.

"Where are Mommy and Daddy now?" The boy's eyes seemed to grow larger and larger, and his look seemed to speak of a longing for release. "Did they send you to pick us up? I bet Mom's cooking us spaghetti right now. That's what Dennis and I like best! She always makes our favorite dinner, and she makes anything we want. And I bet Daddy's out buying presents! Because he left us alone in the hiding place for so long. Can we go home now?"

Just as Wallace was about to come up with another clumsy reply, the door to the treatment room opened from the inside, and the doctor stepped out into the hallway. She nodded curtly and authoritatively to Wallace and bent down so Carl didn't have to look up at her.

"Everything's going to be okay. Dennis has woken up and is already talking again; you can go in now."

Without waiting for a reply, Carl rushed into the room.

Wallace followed him but remained in the doorway. Now Carl seemed to perceive nothing but his twin. Although this little, distraught boy was malnourished, traumatized, and helpless, the assumption that he had to be strong for Dennis now obviously gave him the energy to endure all this. He didn't yet know what Wallace knew.