I ran after Dad.
Eleanor shouted behind me, but the sound disappeared beneath another burst of noise near the house.
Not a gunshot this time.
Glass breaking.
The path curved through pines and opened onto the lake property.
The house from Grandma’s photograph stood at the edge of the frozen shoreline.
Larger than I expected.
Two stories.
Weathered cedar siding.
Wide windows facing the lake.
One porch light burned.
Mom’s car sat crooked in the driveway with the driver’s door open.
Dad was already halfway to the porch.
Daniel reached him first.
“Wait.”
“My brother is inside.”
“So is someone shooting.”
Sebastian caught up behind them.
“We should wait for police.”
Dad looked at him.
Then another crash came from inside.
That ended the discussion.
Dad went through the open front door.
Daniel followed.
So did I.
The living room had been torn apart.
A lamp lay broken.
Drawers had been emptied.
One chair was overturned.
A framed photograph hung crooked above the fireplace.
No bodies.
No blood.
Dad shouted, “Michael!”
Something moved upstairs.
Daniel ran toward the staircase.
Then a man stumbled into view at the top.
Gray hair.
Beard.
One hand pressed against his ribs.
Dad froze.
The resemblance between them was unmistakable.
Michael stopped too.
For one second, neither brother moved.
Twenty-eight years disappeared and remained at the same time.
Dad whispered, “Mike.”
Michael gripped the railing.
“Art.”
Dad crossed the room.
Michael came down three steps before his knees gave way.
Daniel caught him.
Dad grabbed his shoulders.
“You’re alive.”
Michael laughed painfully.
“Apparently.”
Dad stared at him as if afraid blinking would erase him.
Then he hugged him.
Michael made a sound between a laugh and a groan.
“Careful.”
Dad pulled back.
“You’re hurt.”
“Bruised.”
“Those shots?”
“Not me.”
Daniel looked toward the hallway.
“Where’s Rebecca?”
Michael’s face changed.
“Upstairs.”
Dad stepped back.
“What happened?”
“She came here before Grant.”
“To meet you?”
“She said she wanted to confess.”
Michael gave a bitter smile.
“She wanted the evidence.”
“What evidence?”
Michael looked toward me.
“The room.”
“What room?”
He pointed upstairs.
“The locked one.”
Sirens grew louder outside.
Michael leaned against Daniel.
“Your mother knew the police were coming.”
“Then why stay?” I asked.
“Because she thought she could find something first.”
“What?”
Michael looked directly at Dad.
“The original birth records.”
Daniel stiffened.
“My records?”
Michael shook his head.
“No.”
The answer landed strangely.
Daniel stared at him.
“What do you mean?”
Michael closed his eyes.
Before he could answer, something slammed upstairs.
Dad started toward the stairs.
“Rebecca!”
Mom appeared at the landing.
She carried a metal box.
Her face was streaked with tears.
One sleeve was torn.
There was blood on her palm.
Not much.
She stared at Michael.
“You should have stayed gone.”
Dad looked at her with a kind of grief I had never seen before.
“Put the box down.”
Mom hugged it tighter.
“No.”
“What is it?”
She looked toward me.
“Nothing that concerns Chloe.”
Michael laughed weakly.
“That’s almost impressive.”
“Shut up.”
Dad’s expression sharpened.
“Do not speak to him like that.”
Mom looked at him.
“Arthur, you don’t understand.”
“That sentence has ruined enough years.”
Police entered through the front door.
Weapons drawn.
Everyone froze.
Within seconds, the house filled with commands.
Hands visible.
Step away.
Put the box down.
Mom complied.
Officers separated us.
Michael was taken to an ambulance outside.
The shots, we learned, had been fired into the ceiling during a struggle between Grant and Michael before our arrival.
Grant had taken Michael’s gun.
Michael had managed to escape into another room.
Then Grant fled when he heard sirens.
Mom insisted she had not fired anything.
Police believed that part, at least provisionally.
The metal box became evidence.
So did the house.
Nobody was allowed to touch anything else.
Dad rode with Michael to the hospital.
Daniel went too.
Sebastian and I stayed behind with Eleanor while detectives interviewed us.
Mom was placed in a patrol car after they discovered she had violated instructions connected to the ongoing fraud investigation.
She stared at me through the window.
I felt no urge to approach.
Eleanor sat beside me on the porch.
The lake beyond the trees looked black beneath the winter sky.
“What was the locked room?”
“I don’t know.”
“You said Grandma stored records here.”
“She did.”
“In that room?”
“Possibly.”
A detective approached.
“Ms. Montgomery?”
I stood.
“We found a room upstairs secured with two separate locks.”
My heartbeat quickened.
“Can I see it?”
“Not yet.”
“What was inside?”
He hesitated.
“It appears to be an old nursery.”
I stared.
“A nursery?”
“Yes.”
“From when?”
“We don’t know.”
“Anything else?”
“Documents.”
“What kind?”
“Medical.”
Eleanor stood.
“Related to Daniel Mercer?”
The detective looked at her.
“Some relate to a birth in 1998.”
Daniel.
That made sense.
But his expression suggested there was more.
“What aren’t you saying?”
He glanced toward another officer.
“There are two sets of infant records.”
I felt cold.
“Two?”
“Yes.”
Eleanor’s face changed.
“Twins?”
“I don’t know.”
The detective remained careful.
“One file concerns a male infant.”
Daniel.
“The second concerns a female infant.”
Nobody moved.
“What happened to her?”
“That’s what we’re trying to determine.”
I remembered Michael’s words.
The original birth records.
Not Daniel’s records.
Records.
Plural.
Mom had always said the pregnancy ended.
Grandma discovered one child.
What if even she had not known everything?
We reached the hospital shortly after midnight.
Michael had two cracked ribs, bruising, and a cut near his temple.
No gunshot wound.
Dad sat beside him.
The brothers still seemed unable to stop looking at each other.
Daniel stood near the window.
His face was pale.
I entered with Sebastian and Eleanor.
Michael looked at me.
“Chloe.”
“Yes.”
“You look like Evelyn.”
I smiled faintly.
“I’ve heard that.”
He nodded toward the chair.
“Sit.”
I did.
“The police found the nursery.”
His face changed.
“So Rebecca didn’t destroy it.”
“What is it?”
Michael looked at Dad.
Then at Daniel.
“You should all hear this together.”
Daniel crossed his arms.
“I’ve heard enough lies for one lifetime.”
“This isn’t a lie.”
“Then say it.”
Michael inhaled carefully.
“Rebecca gave birth to twins.”
Daniel stopped breathing.
Dad stared.
“No.”
Michael nodded.
“A boy and a girl.”
Dad whispered, “Why didn’t my mother know?”
“She did eventually.”
“When?”
“Years later.”
Eleanor looked startled.
“She never told me.”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because Evelyn promised someone she wouldn’t.”
“Who?”
Michael looked toward me.
“The adoptive mother.”
I frowned.
“Daniel’s mother?”
“No.”
Daniel stepped forward.
“Wait.”
Michael looked at him with sorrow.
“You and your sister were separated.”
Daniel stared.
“I have a sister?”
“Yes.”
The room went silent.
Sebastian sat down.
I could almost hear everyone rebuilding the family tree again.
“What happened?” Dad asked.
Michael closed his eyes.
“Rebecca arranged the adoption through a private intermediary.”
“Grant?”
“Yes.”
Daniel’s jaw tightened.
“He handled my adoption?”
“He arranged both.”
Mom had given birth under another identity.
Grant knew the clinic administrator.
Two different families were selected.
Daniel went to Thomas and Helen Mercer.
The girl went elsewhere.
“Why separate them?” I asked.
Michael looked toward the ceiling.
“Money.”
Daniel laughed without humor.
“Of course.”
“The Mercers paid significant private legal and agency fees.”
“And the other family?”
“More.”
“How much?”
Michael shook his head.
“I don’t know exactly.”
Dad whispered, “Rebecca sold them?”
Michael looked at him.
“I don’t know what word you want to use.”
The implication was ugly enough.
Daniel’s face hardened.
“What was her name?”
“The infant?”
“Yes.”
“Rebecca called her Emily in the clinic records.”
“Adoptive name?”
Michael hesitated.
“I don’t know.”
“You just said Evelyn found her.”
“She found the family. Not the final identity.”
“That makes no sense.”
“It does if the adoption records were altered.”
Grant had apparently changed names and dates to prevent either child from being traced easily.
Daniel’s records had survived because his adoptive father possessed enough resources to investigate.
The girl’s trail disappeared.
“Did Grandma keep searching?” I asked.
“Yes.”
“Did she find her?”
Michael looked at me for a long moment.
“I think so.”
“Think?”
“She told me shortly before she died that the girl was closer than Rebecca realized.”
My skin prickled.
“What does that mean?”
“I never found out.”
Dad covered his face.
“Why didn’t you come back then?”
Michael’s expression became painful.
“Because Evelyn asked me not to.”
Dad looked up.
“She had no right.”
“I know that now.”
“She kept my brother from me.”
“She thought Grant would hurt you if I returned.”
“I could have decided whether that risk was mine.”
Michael nodded.
“Yes.”
Dad stood abruptly and walked to the window.
The room remained quiet until Daniel spoke.
“What did Grant want tonight?”
Michael answered.
“The notebook.”
“Grandma’s?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“It contains transaction codes.”
Eleanor frowned.
“I thought it contained names.”
“It contains both.”
Michael explained that Evelyn had documented transfers Grant arranged through several shell companies.
Some of the money had come from her own trust after Rebecca began secretly pledging assets.
But other funds came from clients whose identities Evelyn discovered by accident.
Judges.
Business owners.
Politicians.
People who would pay enormous amounts to keep old financial arrangements private.
“That’s why Grant is still dangerous,” Michael said.
“Not because of Rebecca.”
“Because of everyone tied to him.”
Eleanor looked toward the door.
“Then the notebook needs to go directly to federal investigators.”
Michael nodded.
“Yes.”
Daniel looked at me.
“You have it?”
I looked at Eleanor.
She did not answer.
That worried me.
“Eleanor?”
She reached into her bag.
Then froze.
Her hand moved through the papers.
Again.
Faster.
“What?”
“The notebook.”
My stomach tightened.
“What about it?”
“It’s gone.”
Daniel stepped closer.
“You had it in the car.”
“Yes.”
“When did you last see it?”
“At the gas station.”
We all thought back.
The stop.
The dark SUV.
Grant approaching.
Mom arriving.
Gunshots.
Chaos.
“Could Grant have taken it?” Sebastian asked.
“Not from my bag.”
“Then who?”
Eleanor emptied everything onto the hospital table.
Documents.
Letters.
Photographs.
No notebook.
My phone vibrated.
Everyone looked at me.
Unknown number.
A photograph appeared.
Grandma’s notebook lay open on someone’s lap.
A hand held the first page.
Beneath the image was one sentence.
YOU ARE LOOKING FOR THE WRONG MISSING CHILD.
I stared.
Then another message arrived.
A name.
Not Emily.
Not Mercer.
A name I knew.
Someone all of us knew.
Someone who had been inside our family’s orbit for years.
LILY PRICE.
I looked slowly at Eleanor.
Her face had gone completely white.
Click here to continue reading: PART 11: Eleanor Finally Admitted Who Lily Was, And The Missing Twin’s Identity Revealed Why Grandma Trusted Her Attorney More Than Her Own Family
Christmas Dinner Was Almost Over When My Parents Told Me To Leave, Then Mom Asked The Question Dad Was Never Supposed To Hear
Part 10 of 40
