“Where are you?”
Rachel did not answer immediately.
I heard another voice in the background.
Female.
Then a door closing.
“Rachel.”
“I’m at a motel.”
“Which one?”
“Danny—”
“No.”
My voice came harder than I intended.
Then I corrected myself.
“Please.”
Silence.
“You get to decide what you do. I get to decide whether I come.”
Rachel began crying again.
“The Lakeview Motor Inn.”
Ortiz was already writing.
“Room?”
“Twenty-four.”
“We’re coming.”
Mara said, “She won’t be there when you arrive.”
Rachel heard.
“Mara?”
“Yes.”
Rachel’s voice hardened.
“You said you wouldn’t follow me.”
“I didn’t.”
“You’re with Daniel.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Mara looked toward Ortiz’s weapon.
“Not entirely voluntarily.”
Ortiz said, “You can explain that downtown.”
Mara almost smiled.
“You still think the police station is outside Harlan’s reach.”
“Today we’re testing that.”
Officers cuffed her.
She offered no resistance.
That bothered me more than if she had fought.
Grace watched Mara.
“You wanted us to find this video.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because Harlan buried the first pregnancy.”
“And you suddenly care about truth?”
Mara looked at her.
“I always cared about truth.”
Leah laughed.
“No. You care about data.”
Mara considered that.
“Sometimes they overlap.”
“That may be the creepiest thing anyone has said this week, and competition is strong.”
We left for the motel.
Ortiz sent another unit ahead.
Rachel remained on the phone.
I refused to hang up.
“What’s her name?”
Rachel hesitated.
“Emily.”
“Emily what?”
“Carter.”
“Does she know?”
“Yes.”
“Everything?”
“No one knows everything.”
Fair.
“Does she know I exist?”
“Yes.”
“What does she think?”
A long pause.
“She thinks you gave her away.”
I closed my eyes.
“Of course.”
“I told her you didn’t know.”
“Does she believe you?”
“I don’t know.”
Grace sat beside me in the police vehicle.
Leah across from us.
Both listened.
I asked, “How did you find her?”
“Mara sent me a file.”
I looked at Mara in the other vehicle ahead.
“When?”
“This morning.”
“Why didn’t you tell anyone?”
“I wanted one hour.”
The words were quiet.
“One hour where what?”
“Where she wasn’t evidence.”
That stopped me.
Rachel continued.
“I wanted to meet one child without police, doctors, DNA reports, armed guards, or somebody explaining what her cells mean.”
Grace looked down.
Leah’s face softened.
I understood.
I hated the risk.
But I understood.
“What is Emily like?”
Rachel laughed through tears.
“Angry.”
Leah whispered, “Definitely related.”
Rachel heard.
“Leah?”
“Hi.”
A pause.
Then Rachel laughed again.
It was a strange sound under terrible circumstances.
“She has your eyebrows.”
Leah touched them automatically.
Grace rolled her eyes.
“What about mine?”
“Your habit of asking three questions before anyone answers the first.”
Grace almost smiled.
I asked, “And me?”
Rachel went quiet.
“She fixes motorcycles.”
Leah started laughing.
Grace covered her face.
I stared out the window.
Of course.
Of all the things Harlan could steal, he could not stop one of my children from liking machines.
The motel appeared ahead.
Police vehicles were already there.
Room 24 stood open.
My heart dropped.
I ran.
Ortiz shouted behind me.
I reached the doorway.
Rachel sat on the bed.
Alive.
Beside her stood a woman.
Twenty-eight.
Brown hair pulled into a loose knot.
Grease beneath one thumbnail.
Leather jacket.
She looked at me.
I stopped.
Not because she looked exactly like me.
She did not.
She looked like Rachel at twenty-five.
Except for the expression.
That was mine.
The same cautious narrowing of the eyes my mother used to complain made me look suspicious of birthday presents.
Rachel stood.
“Danny.”
Emily did not.
She stared.
“So.”
One word.
I nodded.
“So.”
Rachel looked between us.
Neither moved.
Emily finally said, “You’re shorter than I expected.”
Leah entered behind me.
She looked at Emily.
Then me.
Then Grace.
“This is getting ridiculous.”
Emily frowned.
“Who are you?”
Leah pointed to herself.
“Apparently your younger sister.”
Then Grace.
“Also her.”
Grace lifted a hand.
“Hi.”
Emily stared.
“Twins.”
“Yes.”
“And Matthew?”
I froze.
“You know Matthew?”
Emily’s face changed.
Rachel looked at her.
“You didn’t tell me that.”
Emily looked toward the window.
“How do you know Matthew?”
No answer.
I stepped closer.
“Emily.”
She glared.
“Don’t use the dad voice.”
“I don’t have a dad voice.”
Three women said, “You do.”
Even Rachel.
For one absurd second, nobody knew what to do with that.
Then Ortiz entered.
“Emily Carter?”
Emily’s posture hardened.
“I haven’t done anything.”
“I need to ask about Matthew Harris.”
Emily looked at Rachel.
Then at me.
“He found me two years ago.”
“How?”
“DNA site.”
Jessica’s ancestry account.
The network had been connecting before we knew it.
“What did he tell you?”
“That he thought Daniel Whitmore was his biological father.”
“And you?”
“I already knew Daniel’s name.”
“How?”
“My adoptive mother.”
My stomach tightened.
“Who raised you?”
“Carol and Steven Carter.”
“Where?”
“Norman.”
Oklahoma.
Close to where my father had sent me during Rachel’s later twin pregnancy.
“Were they connected to Harlan?”
Emily’s mouth tightened.
“My mother was a nurse.”
Grace asked, “At Vale Women’s Clinic?”
“Yes.”
Rachel sat down.
“She knew?”
“Some.”
“What did she tell you?”
“That my biological mother had been very young and couldn’t keep me.”
Rachel flinched.
Emily saw.
“My mother loved me.”
Rachel nodded.
“I’m glad.”
Emily’s anger faltered.
She had expected competition.
Rachel refused to give it.
Emily continued.
“She told me the adoption was private but legal.”
“It wasn’t,” Ortiz said.
“I know that now.”
“When did you learn?”
“After Mom died.”
“When?”
“Four years ago.”
The same year Rachel found Grace.
The same year old records began surfacing.
“What did she leave?”
“A letter.”
“Do you have it?”
Emily reached into her jacket.
Ortiz tensed.
Emily stopped.
“It’s paper.”
“Slowly.”
She removed a folded envelope.
“My mother wrote that Dr. Vale had given her an embryo to carry.”
Everyone froze.
Rachel whispered, “Carry?”
Emily nodded.
“Carol wasn’t my adoptive mother.”
Grace understood first.
“She was your gestational carrier.”
“Yes.”
My stomach twisted.
Harlan had removed the embryo from Rachel.
Then implanted it into Carol Carter.
Emily continued.
“Mom said she was told the genetic parents had consented.”
“We didn’t.”
“I know.”
“She gave birth to you.”
“Yes.”
“And kept you.”
Emily nodded.
“She was supposed to surrender me after delivery.”
“What happened?”
“She refused.”
Rachel whispered, “Good.”
Emily looked at her.
“She and Dad ran.”
“Steven knew?”
“Yes.”
“They raised you together.”
“Yes.”
I breathed out.
At least one child had been stolen into love rather than a laboratory.
Not clean.
Not right.
But loved.
Ortiz opened the letter with Emily’s permission.
Carol described Harlan’s threats.
His demands.
His attempt to retrieve infant Emily.
Then one line changed everything.
Ortiz read aloud.
“Dr. Vale did not come alone. A young woman accompanied him and called herself Margaret’s daughter.”
I stared.
“My mother Margaret?”
Ortiz continued.
“She said Daniel Whitmore must never learn the child survived.”
Rachel went pale.
“My sister?”
I shook my head.
“I didn’t have a sister.”
Mara had been brought into the motel under guard.
At the doorway, she stopped.
Her expression changed when she saw Emily.
Emily stared back.
“You.”
Mara said nothing.
I looked between them.
“You know each other.”
Emily nodded.
“She came to my shop.”
“When?”
“Three years ago.”
Mara closed her eyes.
Ortiz turned.
“Explain.”
Mara said, “I was looking for Harlan’s subjects.”
Emily laughed.
“You told me you were my cousin.”
Mara’s face tightened.
“I needed you to trust me.”
“You took my blood.”
Grace went rigid.
“What?”
Emily stared at Mara.
“She said she could prove who my parents were.”
Mara said quietly, “I did.”
“And then you disappeared.”
“I gave the result to Harlan.”
Silence.
Emily stepped forward.
Ortiz blocked her.
“You gave him my DNA?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because I needed access to his private archive.”
“You traded me.”
Mara’s expression finally cracked.
“Yes.”
Emily’s eyes filled.
“You are exactly like him.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
Mara looked toward the floor.
Maybe that accusation hurt because she had spent her life believing she was improving Harlan’s work.
Ortiz returned to Carol’s letter.
“There’s more.”
She read the final paragraph.
If Daniel ever learns the truth, tell him Margaret Whitmore came to us once after Emily turned six. She cried when she saw her. She said she had done something unforgivable and wanted to know at least one child escaped Vale. She gave us money and told us to disappear again.
I closed my eyes.
My mother.
Forged signatures.
Helped steal Grace.
Knew about Leah.
And later found Emily.
Too late to undo what she had done.
But not too late to help one child stay free.
Rachel whispered, “Margaret knew.”
“Yes.”
Emily stared.
“She was my grandmother.”
“Yes.”
“She visited once.”
“You remember?”
“A woman crying in our kitchen.”
My throat tightened.
“She brought me a wooden truck.”
I laughed once.
My mother had bought me wooden trucks every Christmas until I was twelve.
Emily looked confused by my reaction.
“She did that for me.”
“What?”
“Trucks.”
Something softened.
Only slightly.
Ortiz’s phone rang.
She answered.
Her expression sharpened.
“What?”
We waited.
She looked at Mara.
“Your archive index is spreading.”
Mara said nothing.
“Three news organizations have it.”
“I expected more.”
Grace stared.
“You wanted it released.”
“Yes.”
“You threatened the fetus and archive to force a choice, but you had already scheduled publication.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Mara looked at her.
“Because Harlan’s network survives secrecy.”
“And exposing victims’ identities destroys theirs.”
“I removed full names where possible.”
“Where possible?”
Mara’s certainty wavered.
“You don’t get points for partial privacy.”
Mara looked away.
Then Emily’s phone buzzed.
She checked it.
Her face changed.
“What?”
She showed me.
A message from Matthew.
NOT SAFE. CLAIRE TAKEN FROM AMBULANCE. DON’T TRUST THE POLICE ESCORT.
Ortiz immediately grabbed her radio.
“Verify Claire Harris transport.”
Static.
Then dispatch answered.
The ambulance carrying Claire had never reached Mercy.
Its GPS tracker had stopped twelve minutes earlier.
Matthew had followed in another vehicle.
Now he was missing too.
Rachel stood.
“Mara.”
Mara looked at her.
“Who took them?”
“I don’t know.”
“Who besides Harlan could?”
Mara’s face slowly changed.
Not fear.
Recognition.
She looked at Anna.
Anna was not there.
Michael had stayed at the lake laboratory.
Mara whispered, “Sonia.”
Grace frowned.
“Sonia is in custody.”
Mara shook her head.
“No.”
Ortiz stared.
“We personally confirmed her detention.”
“You confirmed someone identified as Sonia Patel.”
Silence.
Mara looked at me.
“Sonia taught David how to use facial prosthetics.”
My stomach dropped.
Another decoy.
Grace whispered, “Where would she take Claire?”
Mara answered immediately.
“To the only place Harlan never allowed David to enter.”
“Where?”
“His original neonatal unit.”
Rachel went white.
“The twins.”
Mara nodded.
“The place where Grace and Leah were born.”
Click here to continue reading: PART 31: The Search for Claire and Matthew Returned Everyone to the Twins’ Birthplace, Where Sonia Finally Explained Elaine’s Impossible Choice
Three Years After Our Divorce, Rachel Left Her Wedding Ring on My Pillow and Vanished Before I Woke
Part 30 of 43
