Chapter 6: The DNA Test
“Call her back!””
Claire shouted it before the screen even went dark.
I dialed.
Straight to voicemail.
Again.
Voicemail.
Evan grabbed his keys.
“Annapolis is less than an hour from where I’m staying.””
“You know the address?””
“I can find it.””
“I’m coming.””
Claire stepped forward.
“So am I.””
“No.””
Her face twisted.
“You don’t get to decide that.””
“You’ve made enough decisions for this family.””
The words hit hard.
But I didn’t take them back.
Maya stepped between us.
“Stop.””
We both looked at her.
She was crying silently.
“Brooke is upstairs.””
That ended the argument.
Whatever Claire had done, Brooke was sixteen.
She had woken up yesterday believing the biggest event in her life was receiving a Mustang.
Now the adults downstairs were questioning who her biological parents were.
I rubbed my face.
“Maya, stay with her.””
“I want answers too.””
“You’ll get them.””
“When?””
“When I know they’re real.””
She looked at Claire.
“Because apparently nothing in this house is.””
Claire flinched.
I left with Evan.
The drive felt endless.
During the first twenty minutes, neither of us spoke.
Then I asked, “Were you in love with Claire?””
Evan stared through the windshield.
“Once.””
“Did she cheat on me?””
“No.””
The answer came immediately.
“We dated before you two met. By the time she married you, we were finished.””
“Then why the photograph?””
“Rebecca called me because she was pregnant and desperate. Claire contacted me because she knew I still spoke to Rebecca occasionally.””
He tightened his hands around the steering wheel.
“I thought I was helping.””
“So did Claire.””
“That doesn’t excuse what she did to Maya.””
“No.””
For once, we agreed.
We reached Lydia’s house shortly after noon.
Her front door was open.
“Lydia?””
No answer.
A broken lamp lay near the entryway.
My pulse surged.
“Call the police,” I told Evan.
We didn’t go farther inside.
Minutes later, officers arrived.
They searched the house.
Lydia was gone.
There was no blood.
No obvious sign of serious injury.
But someone had clearly left in a hurry.
An officer named Ramirez questioned us on the porch.
“Why were you coming here?””
I looked at Evan.
Then told Ramirez enough of the truth to make myself sound insane.
Blackmail.
A sixteen-year-old birth secret.
Missing college money.
A dead woman’s bank account.
Ramirez wrote everything down.
Before we left, he handed me a plastic evidence sleeve.
“We found this near the doorway. Your name is on it.””
Inside was a sealed envelope.
DANIEL HARRIS.
The police photographed it before allowing me to open it.
Inside was a laboratory report.
DNA PATERNITY ANALYSIS.
My hands shook.
The test had been conducted six weeks earlier.
Tested individuals:
DANIEL HARRIS.
BROOKE HARRIS.
Probability of paternity:
99.99%.
I stopped breathing.
“That’s impossible,” Evan whispered.
I read it again.
Brooke was biologically mine.
Not Rebecca’s child.
Mine.
Claire had spent sixteen years believing otherwise.
I looked at Ramirez.
“Where did Lydia get my DNA?””
He shrugged.
“Could have been anything. Hair, discarded cup, toothbrush. We’ll investigate.””
There was another page.
MATERNITY ANALYSIS.
CLAIRE HARRIS.
BROOKE HARRIS.
Probability of maternity:
99.99%.
My legs nearly gave out.
Evan caught my shoulder.
“Brooke is yours.””
“And Claire’s.””
Which meant the baby Claire had brought home sixteen years ago was our biological daughter.
Our baby had never died.
Rebecca’s had.
I thought about the photograph.
Two carriers.
Two bracelets.
One dead infant.
And one lie that had poisoned sixteen years of our lives.
My phone rang.
Maya.
I answered immediately.
“Dad?””
“What happened?””
Her voice shook.
“Someone came to the house.””
I straightened.
“Who?””
“A woman.””
“Is she still there?””
“No. She drove away when I told her Mom wasn’t answering the door.””
“What did she want?””
“She gave me something for you.””
“What?””
“A box.””
My stomach tightened.
“Maya, don’t open it.””
“I already did.””
I closed my eyes.
“What’s inside?””
“Hospital records. Old ones.””
Evan was watching me.
“And there’s a letter.””
“From who?””
“Rebecca.””
Every sound around me disappeared.
“That’s impossible.””
“I know.””
“What does it say?””
Maya inhaled.
Then she read the first line aloud.
“Daniel, if you are reading this, Claire has finally discovered that Brooke was never my daughter.””
My hand tightened around the phone.
“Maya, keep reading.””
She went silent.
“Maya?””
“Dad…”
Her voice broke.
“The next sentence says Rebecca knew exactly whose baby died.””
I swallowed.
“What does it say?””
May you like
Maya whispered:
“‘My daughter died that night, and Claire’s daughter lived—but Lydia and I let Claire believe the opposite because we needed her to take Brooke out of that hospital before anyone discovered what Rebecca had done.’”
