Chapter 5 - MY SISTER’S LIE
Evelyn answered on the third ring.
“Grant, it’s two in the morning.”
“Where are you?”
“Home.”
“Stay there.”
Silence.
“What happened?”
“I’m coming over.”
“Grant.”
“Do not leave.”
I hung up.
Vincent grabbed his coat.
“I’m coming.”
“No.”
“If Sky might be my daughter—”
“This is Evelyn.”
“And if Evelyn knows where the third baby went, this involves Sky.”
He had me.
Twenty minutes later, we were driving toward Queen Anne.
Evelyn lived in a restored townhouse that looked like every architecture magazine’s idea of tasteful money.
She opened the door before we knocked.
My little sister was thirty-six now.
Sharp-eyed.
Perfect posture.
The only Hawthorne who had refused to work inside the family companies.
She ran a museum foundation.
She also disliked Vincent.
That began long before his divorce and never improved.
“Why is he here?”
Vincent said, “Wonderful seeing you too.”
I walked inside.
“Nova’s birth.”
Evelyn went still.
There.
Tiny.
But there.
I saw it.
“You know something.”
She closed the door.
“What happened?”
“Someone sent me a photograph of three infants at Mercer Clinic.”
Her face lost color.
“Who?”
“I don’t know.”
“Where is Nova?”
“Safe.”
“Sky?”
She looked at me too quickly.
“You know Sky.”
Evelyn realized her mistake.
Vincent did too.
I stepped closer.
“How do you know her name?”
She sat down.
For years, Evelyn had been the family member who criticized secrets.
Apparently she had simply preferred her own.
“Tell me.”
She looked at Vincent.
“He should leave.”
“No.”
“Grant.”
“He stays.”
Her jaw tightened.
“Then you’re going to hear things you can’t unhear.”
“That seems to be the theme this week.”
Evelyn stood and walked to a cabinet.
She poured water.
Her hands shook.
“I was at the clinic because Dad sent me.”
“I thought you were there for Claire.”
“I was.”
“Which?”
“Both.”
My anger rose.
“What did Malcolm want?”
“He had heard Senator Crane’s daughter was pregnant.”
Vincent swore.
Evelyn continued.
“Rebecca Crane was nineteen. Her father wanted the baby erased from the family story.”
“Erased how?”
“Private adoption. New identity. Dad agreed to arrange it.”
“Why?”
“Leverage over Crane.”
Of course.
My father never helped anyone without buying part of them.
“Where does Claire fit?”
“She found out.”
“How?”
“She heard Dad talking on the phone.”
I looked away.
Claire had always hated the parts of my family I pretended were unavoidable.
“She threatened to tell me,” I said.
“Yes.”
“Did she?”
“She planned to after Nova was born.”
My throat tightened.
“She never got the chance.”
Evelyn’s eyes filled.
“No.”
“What happened that morning?”
She took a breath.
“Rebecca delivered first. A girl.”
“Infant A, B, or C?”
“I don’t know.”
“Hannah?”
“Arrived next. Dad’s men brought her after she collapsed.”
Vincent stared.
“My wife was kidnapped?”
Evelyn looked at him.
“She was unconscious. I don’t know what she agreed to.”
“That means no.”
He stood.
I grabbed his arm.
“Let her finish.”
His eyes burned.
But he sat.
“Claire went into labor unexpectedly,” Evelyn continued. “Then everything became chaos.”
“What did Dad tell you to do?”
“Watch Rebecca.”
“Why?”
“He thought she might change her mind and keep the child.”
“Did she?”
“Yes.”
Evelyn’s voice broke slightly.
“She begged me to help her leave.”
“And you?”
“I was eighteen.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“I was scared of Dad.”
“That is.”
She nodded.
“I told her I’d try.”
“Did you?”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“I switched one bracelet.”
The room went silent.
Vincent stared.
“You did what?”
“I thought if Dad’s people couldn’t identify Rebecca’s baby, they couldn’t take her.”
My heart pounded.
“Which bracelet?”
“I don’t know. Everything happened fast. Three bassinets. Nurses moving. Claire bleeding. Hannah unconscious. Rebecca crying.”
“You switched babies without knowing whose was whose?”
“I switched labels, not babies.”
“That could have changed everything.”
“I know.”
“What happened next?”
“Claire saw me.”
I froze.
“She knew?”
“Yes. She made me tell her why.”
“And?”
“She said we had to undo it.”
“Did you?”
“We tried.”
Tried.
Not succeeded.
Evelyn looked toward the window.
“Then Dad arrived.”
My father had told me he was in Portland that morning.
Another lie.
“He was there?”
“Yes.”
“Did he see Claire?”
“They argued.”
“What about?”
“Everything. The hidden adoptions. Rebecca. Hannah. The bracelets.”
“What did he say?”
“That Claire was becoming dangerous.”
My hands curled.
Evelyn looked at me.
“I should have told you.”
“Yes.”
“I was afraid.”
“Everyone was afraid.”
“That was Dad’s talent.”
I hated that sentence because it was true.
“What happened to Rebecca?”
“She disappeared from the clinic.”
“With her baby?”
“I don’t know.”
“And the third infant?”
Evelyn looked at Vincent.
“One baby was taken through the loading entrance before sunrise.”
“By who?”
“Owen Pike.”
Pike.
The man who opened my gate yesterday.
The man found dead in his SUV.
Vincent stood.
“Pike stole my child?”
“I don’t know whose child.”
“Where did he take her?”
“I followed.”
I stared.
“You followed him?”
“Yes.”
“To where?”
“A church in Ballard.”
“What happened?”
“He gave the carrier to a woman.”
“Who?”
Evelyn looked at me.
“A younger Lena Rowe.”
My mind reeled.
“So Sky was the baby Pike removed.”
“Yes.”
“Why did you never tell me?”
“Because Claire called me later that morning.”
My chest tightened.
“Later? She was still in the clinic.”
“No.”
“What?”
“She left.”
“That’s impossible.”
“She signed herself out before noon.”
“But I saw her there.”
“At one.”
Evelyn stared.
“What?”
“I arrived at one. Claire was in bed.”
Evelyn slowly shook her head.
“No. I drove her away at eleven-forty.”
Nobody spoke.
A cold sensation moved through me.
“Who was in the hospital bed?”
“I don’t know,” Evelyn whispered.
Memory hit.
Claire pale.
Hair partly covering her face.
Sedated.
I kissed her forehead.
She barely responded.
A nurse told me she needed rest.
I stayed twenty minutes before being pulled into an emergency call about a threat against the clinic.
By the time I returned that night, Claire had supposedly gone home with Nova.
Two days later, her car went off a bridge.
“What did Claire do after you drove her away?”
“She met someone.”
“Who?”
“I don’t know.”
“Where?”
“Near the ferry terminal.”
“You left her?”
“She ordered me to.”
“Claire didn’t order people.”
“That day she did.”
“Did you see who met her?”
“A man in a gray coat.”
“Face?”
“No.”
Vincent leaned forward.
“What happened to Rebecca?”
Evelyn shook her head.
“I saw her once after that.”
“When?”
“Claire’s funeral.”
I stared.
“She was there?”
“Across the cemetery.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Dad was watching me constantly.”
“So you let me bury my wife without saying any of this.”
Evelyn’s eyes filled.
“I was eighteen, Grant.”
“And I was twenty-nine and destroyed.”
“I know.”
“No. You watched.”
She flinched.
I regretted the cruelty and meant it at the same time.
Family was complicated like that.
My phone rang.
Nova.
I answered immediately.
“Daddy?”
“What’s wrong?”
“I had a bad dream.”
I closed my eyes.
“I’m here.”
“Where?”
“With Aunt Evelyn.”
“Why?”
“Grown-up stuff.”
She sighed.
“Bad grown-up stuff?”
“Yes.”
“Sky woke up too.”
I heard movement.
Then Sky’s voice.
“Mr. Hawthorne?”
“I’m here.”
“Somebody’s outside.”
Everything in me sharpened.
“Where?”
“Back garden.”
“Did you tell security?”
“They don’t see her.”
“Her?”
“A woman.”
I stood.
“What does she look like?”
“Red hair.”
Evelyn made a sound.
I looked at her.
She whispered, “Rebecca.”
Impossible.
I spoke into the phone.
“Nova, go to the safe room now.”
“Daddy—”
“Now.”
She knew that tone.
“Okay.”
“Take Sky. Take Elise.”
“What about—”
A crash came through the phone.
Then Sky screamed.
The line went dead.
I ran.
Vincent was beside me.
Evelyn grabbed her keys.
We reached the estate in twelve minutes.
Security had locked the grounds.
No forced entry.
No missing staff.
No woman found.
Nova and Sky were safe in the panic room with Elise.
The broken sound had been a lamp knocked over when Sky panicked.
I held Nova.
Vincent held himself back from grabbing Sky.
He was learning.
Good.
“Where did you see the woman?” I asked.
Sky pointed toward the garden door.
“There.”
“Did she say anything?”
Sky nodded.
“What?”
“She called me Lily.”
Vincent went white.
“Anything else?”
“She said I had my father’s eyes.”
Sky looked at Vincent.
Everyone did.
His eyes were gray.
Sky’s were gray.
Not proof.
Not even close.
But enough to hurt.
“Then she said something about Nova,” Sky whispered.
“What?”
“She said, ‘The Hawthorne girl was never the one in danger.’”
Nova held my hand tighter.
“What does that mean?”
I had no answer.
Security brought us camera footage.
For three seconds, a red-haired woman appeared near the hedge.
Older than the Rebecca Crane from old photographs.
But similar.
Very similar.
She looked directly into the camera.
Then lifted a handwritten sign.
GRANT — CLAIRE IS ALIVE.
My heart stopped.
Nova whispered, “Mommy?”
The woman turned the sign around.
One more sentence.
IF YOU WANT HER BACK, STOP LOOKING FOR DNA.
Then she vanished beyond the hedge.
No gate record.
No motion alert.
Nothing.
Evelyn stared at the screen.
“That’s Rebecca.”
Vincent looked at me.
“Could Claire really be alive?”
Eight years ago, I had buried a closed coffin because the body recovered from the river was too damaged for viewing.
Identification came from dental records.
Records from Mercer’s network.
A network built on false identities.
For the first time in eight years, I allowed myself to ask the impossible question.
What if Claire Hawthorne never died?
Then Nova touched my hand.
“Daddy?”
I looked down.
“If Mommy is alive, why didn’t she come home?”
May you like
That was the question.
And somewhere in Seattle, someone already knew the answer.
