Chapter 8
I vomited beside Dad’s car.
There was no graceful way to process the possibility that the man I married might share my mother.
Dad held my hair.
Richard stood several feet away, pale and silent.
I wiped my mouth.
“No.”
Dad handed me water.
“Claire.”
“No.”
I stood too quickly.
The street tilted.
Dad caught me.
“That photograph could be fake.”
“Yes.”
“It could be mislabeled.”
“Yes.”
“You were born in 1994,” he said.
I knew what he was doing.
Trying to give my mind facts.
Something solid.
Jonathan had been born in 1990.
Four years before me.
My mother, Sarah, had married Dad in 1992.
It was possible.
I hated that it was possible.
Dad’s face told me he hated it too.
“Did Mom ever tell you she had a child before me?”
“No.”
He answered immediately.
Then his certainty cracked.
“No.”
Richard approached carefully.
“Ruth might have documented what happened.”
“Why would Grandma hide something like that?”
Neither man answered.
I called Daniel.
“Bring the photograph out.”
“I can’t remove evidence yet.”
“Then send me a picture.”
A pause.
“Okay.”
Thirty seconds later, it arrived.
I opened it.
My mother.
No doubt.
She was younger.
Maybe twenty-one.
Her dark hair fell around her shoulders.
She was smiling at a baby wrapped in a blue blanket.
Standing beside her was Grandma Ruth.
And behind them—
Evelyn.
Much younger.
No blonde hair.
No expensive clothes.
But unmistakable.
The same eyes.
Same mouth.
Same sharp expression.
My stomach twisted.
I enlarged the baby’s face.
Impossible to tell.
Just a baby.
But the handwriting on the back was Grandma’s.
Sarah with her son.
Jonathan.
Dad stared at the image.
His voice shook.
“I never knew.”
I believed him.
That mattered.
At least one person in my life had not lied.
I called Jonathan.
He answered immediately.
“Claire?”
His voice was frantic.
“Where are you?”
I ignored the question.
“What’s your date of birth?”
“What?”
“Answer.”
“April seventeenth, 1990.”
My eyes closed.
The photograph was dated August 1990.
“How old were you when Evelyn adopted you?”
Silence.
Dad looked at me sharply.
Jonathan whispered, “How do you know I’m adopted?”
I almost dropped the phone.
“You are?”
“Yes.”
The street seemed to move again.
“Why didn’t you ever tell me?”
“I don’t talk about it.”
“We were married today!”
“I was six months old. Evelyn is my mother.”
“No.”
“Claire?”
My voice broke.
“She may not be.”
Silence.
“What are you talking about?”
“Who is your biological mother?”
“I don’t know.”
“Did Evelyn ever tell you her name?”
“No.”
“Did you ever see paperwork?”
“I was adopted privately.”
“By Evelyn alone?”
“Yes.”
“Where was your father?”
“I don’t have one.”
“Jonathan.”
“I don’t know!”
He sounded terrified.
I forced myself to continue.
“Do you know a woman named Sarah Parker?”
Nothing.
Then he whispered, “No.”
My chest hurt.
“My mother’s name was Sarah Parker.”
“I know.”
“There is a photograph of her holding you as a baby.”
Long silence.
Then Jonathan laughed.
Not because it was funny.
Because his mind rejected it.
“No.”
“Grandma wrote your name on the back.”
“No.”
“Evelyn is in the picture.”
“Stop.”
“Jonathan—”
“STOP!”
His shout came through the phone.
Dad took my shoulder.
I continued anyway.
“I need you to understand why we may need DNA testing immediately.”
“No.”
“Jonathan.”
“She’s lying.”
“Who?”
“My mother.”
“Evelyn?”
“Yes.”
He was breathing hard.
“She always said my biological mother abandoned me.”
I closed my eyes.
“What else?”
“That she was young. That she didn’t want me.”
“Did she say she died?”
“No.”
“What did she say?”
“That it was better if I never looked.”
Of course.
“How did Evelyn know Sarah?”
“I don’t know.”
“Think.”
“I don’t know!”
Then he went silent.
“What?”
I asked.
Jonathan’s voice changed.
“There’s a box.”
Dad leaned closer.
“What box?”
“My adoption papers.”
“Where?”
“Mom keeps it.”
“Where?”
“Storage unit.”
Richard looked at me.
“Which one?”
I asked.
“Westbrook Self Storage.”
“Unit number?”
“I don’t know.”
“Do you know the gate code?”
“Yes.”
Daniel returned from the building before we finished the call.
Leonard was being taken out on a stretcher.
His forehead was bandaged.
When he saw me, he lifted one hand.
“Claire.”
I ran toward him.
Daniel tried to stop me.
Leonard spoke.
“Let her.”
I stood beside the stretcher.
“Did you know?”
He looked at my phone.
The photograph was still visible.
His eyes closed.
“Yes.”
Anger surged through me.
“You knew Jonathan might be my brother and let me marry him?”
“No.”
“YOU WERE AT THE WEDDING!”
“I learned who Jonathan was too late.”
“When?”
“Three days ago.”
“Then why didn’t you stop the wedding?”
“I tried.”
“No, Richard tried.”
“I tried differently.”
“How?”
“I confronted Evelyn.”
I stared at him.
“You confronted the woman who had spent months planning this instead of telling me?”
“I needed proof.”
“You had a photograph!”
“A photograph can be challenged.”
“I WOULD HAVE CANCELED THE WEDDING!”
He looked ashamed.
“You should have.”
I stepped away.
I couldn’t look at him.
Everyone had decided what information I could handle.
Grandma.
Leonard.
Richard.
Jonathan.
Evelyn.
Everyone.
Daniel asked Leonard, “Who attacked you?”
Leonard looked around.
“Stephanie.”
My skin prickled.
“Why?”
“She works for Evelyn.”
Jonathan heard through the phone.
“No.”
Leonard continued.
“Not exactly.”
I put Jonathan on speaker.
“What does that mean?”
Leonard looked at the phone.
“Stephanie is Evelyn’s daughter.”
Jonathan’s voice came through.
“My mother doesn’t have a daughter.”
Leonard laughed weakly.
“She does.”
Another secret.
Of course.
“Older or younger?” Daniel asked.
“Younger than Jonathan.”
“Biological?”
“Yes.”
“Father?”
Leonard turned his face away.
Richard looked at him.
“Oh, Leonard.”
I understood.
“So Stephanie is your daughter.”
Leonard closed his eyes.
“Yes.”
Dad swore.
My brain could barely organize the family tree anymore.
Evelyn and Leonard had a daughter.
Stephanie.
Evelyn had adopted Jonathan.
Possibly my mother’s biological child.
Leonard had worked for Grandma.
Stephanie had infiltrated my wedding.
Jonathan had been sent to target me.
I stared at Leonard.
“How long were you and Evelyn involved?”
“Years.”
“While she worked for Grandma?”
“Yes.”
“Did Grandma know?”
“Eventually.”
“Did you help Evelyn steal?”
“No.”
“Did you cover for her?”
His silence answered.
Richard looked devastated.
“You interfered with my investigation.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“To protect Stephanie.”
“By protecting Evelyn.”
“Yes.”
Richard turned away.
Leonard’s voice cracked.
“I thought I could make Evelyn stop.”
Dad said, “People like that don’t stop.”
“No.”
Leonard looked at me.
“I know that now.”
I thought about the photograph.
“Why did Evelyn adopt Jonathan?”
Leonard’s expression changed.
Fear.
“Tell her,” Daniel said.
Leonard swallowed.
“Sarah wanted her baby kept secret.”
Dad looked stricken.
“Why?”
“She was nineteen.”
I calculated.
Mom would have been nineteen when she gave birth to Jonathan.
“She was in college,” Leonard continued. “The father was married.”
My stomach dropped.
“Who was he?”
Leonard looked toward Dad.
“Not him.”
Dad said, “Obviously.”
“Who?” I asked again.
Leonard hesitated.
“His name was Michael Mercer.”
Jonathan spoke through the phone.
“Mercer?”
“Yes.”
“That’s my last name.”
“Yes.”
“Was he related to Evelyn?”
Leonard closed his eyes.
“He was her husband.”
Silence.
Jonathan made a sound like he had been hit.
I covered my mouth.
Mom had a child with Evelyn’s husband.
Evelyn then adopted that child.
Nothing made sense.
“Why would she adopt the baby of the woman her husband cheated with?” I asked.
Leonard looked at me.
“Because Michael died before Jonathan was born.”
“How?”
“Car accident.”
“And Evelyn knew Sarah was pregnant?”
“Yes.”
“Why take Jonathan?”
“Michael’s parents were wealthy.”
Richard suddenly understood.
“Inheritance.”
Leonard nodded.
“Jonathan inherited through Michael.”
Jonathan’s voice sharpened.
“What inheritance?”
Leonard stared toward the phone.
“The one Evelyn spent before you turned eighteen.”
Jonathan stopped speaking.
I almost felt sorry for him.
Almost.
Dad asked, “How much?”
Leonard whispered, “About $1.3 million.”
Jonathan’s breathing became audible through the phone.
“No.”
“Your paternal grandparents established a custodial account.”
“No.”
“Evelyn had access as guardian.”
“No.”
“She spent almost all of it.”
Jonathan screamed.
“NO!”
Then the call disconnected.
I stared at my phone.
Daniel spoke into his radio.
“Have the officer at Claire’s house check on Jonathan.”
A response came immediately.
Then silence.
Daniel’s expression changed.
“What?”
I asked.
He listened.
“Repeat.”
Another pause.
“Damn it.”
“What?”
“The officer says Jonathan is gone.”
My heart sank.
“How?”
“Back door.”
Richard closed his eyes.
“Where would he go?”
I thought of his last words.
The box.
The storage unit.
“Westbrook Self Storage.”
Daniel started issuing instructions.
But another voice interrupted.
Leonard.
“No.”
We all looked at him.
“Don’t send him there alone.”
“Why?”
Leonard struggled to sit.
Paramedics stopped him.
“Evelyn keeps more than papers in that unit.”
“What does she keep?”
He looked at me.
“Everything she stole from Ruth.”
Richard stepped closer.
“Original records?”
“Yes.”
“Then we need that unit.”
Leonard shook his head.
“You don’t understand.”
“What?”
“The unit isn’t rented under Evelyn’s name.”
“Whose?”
Leonard looked at me.
“Sarah Parker.”
My dead mother’s identity.
I felt rage replace shock.
“She has been using my mother’s name?”
“For decades.”
“Why?”
“To hide assets.”
Daniel asked, “How do you know?”
“Because I helped her set it up.”
Dad moved so fast two officers stepped between him and the stretcher.
“You helped her steal my dead wife’s identity?”
Leonard looked ashamed.
“Yes.”
Dad’s face went white with fury.
I grabbed his arm.
“Dad.”
He stopped.
Barely.
Daniel received another radio transmission.
“Units are headed to the storage facility.”
My phone rang again.
Jonathan.
I answered.
“Where are you?”
He whispered.
“Storage unit.”
My heart pounded.
“Police are coming. Get out.”
“I found the box.”
“Take it and leave.”
“No.”
His breathing was ragged.
“Jonathan.”
“There’s someone here.”
I froze.
“Who?”
He didn’t answer.
Then a woman’s voice came through the line.
Calm.
Familiar.
Evelyn.
“You really should have listened to me, son.”
Jonathan whispered, “Mom?”
I heard a metallic click.
Daniel heard it too.
His face changed.
Evelyn spoke again.
“Put the box down.”
Jonathan said, “You stole my inheritance.”
“Put it down.”
“You lied to me my whole life.”
“I gave you a life.”
“You used me.”
A pause.
Then Evelyn said something that made every person around me go silent.
“You were never supposed to find out who your mother was.”
Jonathan’s voice broke.
“Sarah?”
Evelyn laughed softly.
“No, sweetheart.”
My skin went cold.
“Sarah Parker wasn’t your mother.”
Jonathan stopped breathing.
So did I.
Evelyn continued.
“That photograph was the first lie Ruth created.”
I stared at Leonard.
He looked horrified.
Then Evelyn said:
“If you want to know who gave birth to you, open the red file.”
A paper rustled through the phone.
May you like
Jonathan gasped.
And the call ended.
