Chapter 6
The police wanted everyone separated.
Emma refused.
She held onto my shirt so tightly her knuckles turned white.
“I’m not leaving Mommy.”
Officer Harris crouched beside her.
“You don’t have to, sweetheart.”
Emma looked at the officer suspiciously.
“Are you taking Daddy?”
“No.”
“Are you taking Mommy?”
“No.”
“Grandma?”
Officer Harris hesitated.
“Grandma is staying somewhere else tonight.”
Emma nodded.
“Good.”
Ryan closed his eyes.
I knew that one word hurt him.
Good.
His five-year-old daughter was relieved his mother was gone.
That was a wound Ryan would carry forever.
Lauren sat at the kitchen table with an ice pack against her cheek.
The intruder had never made it inside the bathroom.
Police arrived while he was kicking the door.
His name was Marcus Dale.
Former military.
Private security contractor.
No obvious connection to Victoria Whitmore.
At least none they could prove immediately.
Officer Harris placed my mother’s letter inside an evidence bag.
I almost stopped her.
Then I realized our house was no longer safe.
Maybe nothing was.
“Tell me everything,” she said.
I did.
The DNA test.
Margaret.
The storage unit.
Charles.
Thomas.
Daniel.
Victoria.
The attack.
By the time I finished, Officer Harris had stopped taking ordinary notes.
She was recording.
A detective arrived.
Then another.
Finally Harris asked, “Why didn’t you report the information about Thomas Miller immediately?”
“We had only discovered it minutes before someone tried to burn the evidence.”
Henry, who had followed us from the storage facility, nodded.
“That’s accurate.”
The detective looked at him.
“And you are?”
“Henry Cole.”
The detective froze.
“You were Whitmore Development’s legal counsel.”
“Twenty years ago.”
“You lost your law license.”
“Yes.”
“For destroying evidence.”
Henry’s face tightened.
“Yes.”
My stomach dropped.
I turned.
“You didn’t mention that.”
“You didn’t ask.”
I nearly slapped him.
Ryan stepped between us.
“What evidence?”
Henry looked toward Officer Harris.
“Whitmore Development records.”
“Connected to the chemical project?”
“Yes.”
“So you’re one of them.”
“I was.”
“You helped them.”
“Yes.”
I backed away.
Everything about him suddenly felt contaminated.
“You knew my father was murdered.”
“No.”
“You knew Charles cut the brakes.”
“Not until years later.”
“But you destroyed evidence.”
“Financial records. Bribes. Environmental violations.”
“Why?”
“Because Daniel told me the company would collapse and thousands of people would lose their jobs.”
I laughed bitterly.
“Another act of protection.”
Henry looked ashamed.
“Yes.”
I was beginning to hate that word.
Officer Harris leaned forward.
“What does Marcus Dale mean by ‘ask the nurse’?”
Henry shook his head.
“I don’t know.”
I thought of my mother.
Cancer.
Three years of treatment.
Then remission.
Then suddenly she was gone.
I was nineteen.
She had died at St. Catherine Medical Center.
I remembered the nurse who called me.
A woman named Patricia.
Patricia something.
“Ryan.”
He looked at me.
“My mother’s nurse.”
“What about her?”
“I remember her first name.”
Officer Harris opened her notebook.
“Tell me.”
“Patricia.”
“Last name?”
“I don’t know.”
I thought harder.
My mother liked her.
She once joked that Patricia sneaked her real coffee when doctors wanted her drinking herbal tea.
Then I remembered a Christmas card.
“Lane.”
Officer Harris wrote it down.
“Patricia Lane.”
One detective stepped into the hallway and made a call.
Ryan sat beside me.
“Sarah, whatever comes next, we do it together.”
I looked at him.
“Your parents hid this.”
“My parents aren’t me.”
“Your father killed mine.”
“I know.”
“Your mother beat our daughter to keep me from finding out.”
“I know.”
“You kept his storage key secret.”
His face fell.
“Yes.”
“That part is you.”
He nodded.
“You’re right.”
I hadn’t expected him to say it.
He continued.
“I should have told you. I should have opened that unit three years ago. Maybe if I had, none of this would have happened tonight.”
“Maybe.”
“I was afraid of what Dad had left me.”
“Why?”
Ryan stared at the table.
“Because before he died, he said, ‘You’re a better man than I ever was.’”
I said nothing.
“I knew there was something ugly behind that sentence. I didn’t want to know.”
Emma climbed into his lap.
He hugged her carefully.
“I don’t get to hide from ugly things anymore.”
Three hours later, Officer Harris returned.
Her expression had changed.
“We found Patricia Lane.”
I stood.
“Alive?”
“Yes.”
“Where?”
“Arizona.”
“Did you speak to her?”
“She refused.”
“Why?”
“She said if this was about Claire Miller, she had nothing to say over the phone.”
My heart pounded.
“When can I see her?”
Officer Harris frowned.
“This is becoming part of an active investigation.”
“That wasn’t my question.”
“Sarah.”
“My mother is dead. My father was murdered. Someone broke into my house tonight. I’m going.”
Ryan stood too.
“So am I.”
Officer Harris sighed.
“She’s outside Phoenix.”
“We’ll fly.”
“Tonight?”
“Yes.”
“You shouldn’t go anywhere without protection.”
Daniel’s voice came from the doorway.
“You won’t.”
Everyone spun.
Two officers reached for their weapons.
Daniel Whitmore stood on my porch.
He looked older than on television.
Seventy, maybe.
Tall.
Silver hair.
Dark coat.
No visible security.
Officer Harris stepped toward him.
“Mr. Whitmore, you need to stay outside.”
Daniel raised his hands.
“I came voluntarily.”
I stared at him.
My father.
Biologically.
Nothing about him felt familiar.
Then he looked at me.
His eyes did.
That stopped me.
They were my eyes.
Not just the color.
The shape.
The slight downward tilt.
I hated that I noticed.
Daniel looked at Emma.
His expression broke.
For one moment, all power vanished from his face.
“Is that her?”
I stepped between them.
“Don’t.”
He nodded immediately.
“I understand.”
“You don’t get to look at her like you know her.”
“I know.”
Ryan moved beside me.
“Why are you here?”
“To keep Sarah alive.”
Officer Harris said, “Start by explaining why a man who allegedly attacked a storage unit and broke into this home had a photograph of your sister.”
Daniel’s face hardened.
“I will.”
Everyone stared.
He continued.
“Victoria has spent six years trying to remove me as chairman.”
“Family drama?” Officer Harris asked.
“Money.”
“Specifically?”
“The Whitmore property.”
I held up the deed.
“This.”
Daniel looked at it.
“Yes.”
“Why does she need me?”
“Because after Claire created the trust, no development is possible without your consent.”
“And she thinks attacking my child will make me sign something?”
“No.”
Daniel’s answer came too quickly.
I felt cold.
“Then what does she want?”
“She wants you declared legally incompetent.”
Ryan frowned.
“How?”
Daniel looked toward the broken bathroom door upstairs.
“By proving you are unstable, paranoid, violent, and unable to manage your own affairs.”
My mouth opened.
Margaret.
The cane.
The fight.
I had struck Margaret’s arm.
Police report.
“Margaret said I attacked her.”
Daniel nodded.
“Exactly.”
Ryan went pale.
“You think Mom is part of this?”
Henry spoke from the corner.
“She took the DNA results.”
Daniel looked at him.
“She was supposed to.”
“What?”
We all stared.
Daniel rubbed his face.
“Victoria contacted Margaret six months ago.”
Ryan’s expression turned savage.
“You knew?”
“Three weeks ago.”
“And you didn’t tell us?”
“I was trying to determine how far Margaret had gone.”
“She beat my daughter!”
Daniel flinched.
“I didn’t expect that.”
Ryan stepped toward him.
“You don’t get to use that excuse.”
“No.”
Daniel looked at me.
“Margaret was supposed to create conflict between you and Ryan.”
I felt sick.
“How?”
“Expose the DNA test. Make Ryan believe there was a chance you shared a biological father. Push you into public accusations. Make you look irrational.”
Ryan whispered, “Jesus Christ.”
“But the test showed Daniel isn’t my father.”
“Victoria didn’t know Charles had tested you.”
Henry nodded slowly.
“That explains the safe.”
Daniel continued.
“When Margaret found the old results in Sarah’s box, Emma saw her. Margaret panicked.”
My anger burned.
“So she hit her.”
Daniel looked toward Emma.
“I’m sorry.”
I stepped forward.
“Never apologize for her.”
He nodded.
“You’re right.”
Officer Harris crossed her arms.
“Where does Patricia Lane fit?”
Daniel’s face lost color.
That frightened me.
“Mr. Whitmore?”
He didn’t answer.
I walked closer.
“What happened to my mother?”
Daniel looked at me.
For the first time that night, he seemed truly afraid.
“Claire’s cancer came back.”
“I know.”
“She was terminal.”
“I know.”
“But she didn’t die from cancer.”
My heart stopped.
Ryan stood.
“Daniel.”
Daniel swallowed.
“Her heart stopped after an injection.”
I felt the floor shift beneath me.
“What injection?”
“I don’t know.”
“How do you know?”
“Because Patricia called me that night.”
I stared.
“She called you?”
“She had my private number.”
“Why?”
“Claire gave it to her.”
I couldn’t breathe.
“My mother was talking to you?”
“For years.”
I stepped back.
Another lie.
Another entire hidden life.
Daniel continued.
“Patricia told me Claire had become frightened during her final week. A man visited her twice. She wouldn’t say who.”
“Did Patricia see him?”
“Yes.”
“Who was it?”
“She never told me.”
“Why?”
“She disappeared two days after Claire died.”
Officer Harris asked, “Did you report this?”
“No.”
I laughed in disbelief.
“Of course you didn’t.”
“I sent people to find her.”
“That is not the same thing.”
“No.”
Officer Harris asked, “Why would Patricia speak now?”
Daniel looked toward me.
“Because Sarah exists.”
I shook my head.
“That makes no sense.”
“She would never talk to me. Maybe she’ll talk to Claire’s daughter.”
I picked up my phone.
“Then I’m going.”
Officer Harris said, “We need time to coordinate.”
Daniel said, “My plane can leave in an hour.”
I turned on him.
“I’m not getting on your private jet.”
“Commercial flights won’t get you there until tomorrow afternoon.”
“I don’t care.”
“You should.”
“Why?”
Daniel reached into his coat.
Officers tensed.
He slowly pulled out his phone.
He showed me an email.
Sent twenty-seven minutes earlier.
No sender name.
Only an encrypted address.
The message contained a photograph.
Patricia Lane.
Sitting outside a grocery store.
Taken that morning.
Underneath were six words.
SHE TALKS, SHE JOINS CLAIRE.
My blood went cold.
“They know we found her,” Daniel said.
Officer Harris grabbed her phone.
“I’m contacting Arizona police.”
Daniel nodded.
“Good.”
I stared at Patricia’s photograph.
A woman who knew how my mother really died.
A woman someone was threatening right now.
I looked at Ryan.
“We’re going.”
He nodded.
Daniel said quietly, “Sarah, there’s one more thing.”
I turned.
“What?”
He looked toward Henry.
Then the officers.
Then back at me.
“The person who visited Claire before she died…”
His voice became strained.
“Patricia once told me he had a scar across his left hand.”
Ryan stopped breathing.
I looked at him.
His face had gone white.
“Ryan?”
He didn’t answer.
“Ryan, what is it?”
He slowly raised his left hand.
A pale scar crossed his palm.
“No,” he whispered.
I stared.
He shook his head violently.
“No. I never visited your mother.”
Daniel looked confused.
Then Ryan’s eyes lifted.
“There was one other person in my family with the same scar.”
I felt sick.
“Who?”
May you like
Ryan’s voice cracked.
“My father.”
