Chapter 12: Rebecca
My father was gone.
Again.
The metal box was gone too.
For several seconds, nobody moved.
Detective Harris drew his weapon.
“Stay behind me.”
I barely heard him.
My mind was trapped inside one sentence.
I'm Rebecca.
The voice on the phone.
The woman who looked like Rachel.
The woman who had Emma.
My sister's supposed twin.
A ghost from a photograph.
A woman who was supposedly dead.
“Sarah.”
Harris touched my shoulder.
I turned.
“Where did my father go?”
“I don't know.”
“He was standing right there.”
“I know.”
“How does a man disappear from a locked room?”
Harris looked at the walls.
“Apparently, your family has been practicing.”
I almost laughed.
It came out as a sob.
Then my phone vibrated.
A message.
STOP LOOKING FOR YOUR FATHER.
Another appeared.
LOOK FOR YOUR MOTHER.
Then a location.
An old church outside Baltimore.
And one final sentence:
COME BEFORE MIDNIGHT.
We drove through the night.
Mark sat beside me in the back of the police vehicle.
His shoulder was still bleeding through the bandage.
I looked at him.
“Do you know Rebecca?”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“Not personally.”
“Then how?”
“I saw her once.”
“When?”
“Six years ago.”
My stomach tightened.
“Where?”
“Your mother's old house.”
“The house that supposedly didn't exist?”
“Yes.”
“What was she doing?”
“Watching you.”
“Why?”
“I don't know.”
“Mark.”
He looked at me.
“I swear.”
I turned toward the window.
“You know too many things to keep saying you don't know.”
He lowered his eyes.
“You're right.”
“Then start talking.”
He took a breath.
“Rebecca was raised by the organization.”
“You said that.”
“She was trained.”
“For what?”
“To impersonate people.”
I looked at him.
“What?”
“She could copy voices.”
“Faces?”
“Expressions.”
“Everything?”
“Almost.”
My blood ran cold.
“Rachel.”
“Yes.”
“You're saying Rebecca can pretend to be Rachel?”
“She has.”
I remembered the hospital.
The woman beside Emma.
The scar.
The silver ring.
The message.
My stomach twisted.
“Then where is my real sister?”
Mark looked at me.
“I don't know.”
The church was abandoned.
Its doors were open.
No lights.
No cars.
Only wind moving through broken windows.
Detective Harris raised his flashlight.
“Stay close.”
We entered.
The smell of dust and old wood filled the room.
At the front stood an altar.
And beside it was a woman.
She was facing away from us.
“Hello, Sarah.”
I stopped.
The voice was my mother's.
My heart slammed against my ribs.
“Mom?”
The woman turned.
She was old.
Gray hair.
Tired eyes.
But I recognized her immediately.
My mother.
Alive.
I couldn't move.
She whispered:
“Sarah.”
I ran to her.
She caught me.
For the first time in twelve years, I felt my mother's arms around me.
I began crying.
“You're alive.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
She pulled away.
“I couldn't come back.”
“You let me believe you were dead.”
“I thought it was the only way.”
“You and Dad both.”
She closed her eyes.
“We thought we were protecting you.”
I laughed bitterly.
“Everyone says that.”
My mother looked at Mark.
“You brought him.”
“Yes.”
She nodded.
“He shouldn't be here.”
Mark stepped forward.
“I came because Emma is missing.”
My mother's expression changed.
“Emma?”
“Yes.”
She looked terrified.
“Where is she?”
“Rebecca has her.”
My mother went completely still.
“No.”
“Mom.”
“Rebecca is not supposed to know about Emma.”
“She knows.”
My mother whispered:
“Then we're already too late.”
I stepped closer.
“Tell me everything.”
My mother looked toward the church doors.
“Your father wanted to tell you.”
“Then where is he?”
“I don't know.”
“Mom.”
She looked at me.
“Rebecca took him.”
My blood ran cold.
“When?”
“Tonight.”
“Why?”
“Because he refused to tell her where the ledger was.”
“What does she want?”
“You.”
“Why?”
My mother took my hands.
“Because you're the only person she cannot impersonate.”
I frowned.
“What does that mean?”
“Your blood.”
I stared at her.
“What's wrong with my blood?”
“Nothing.”
“Then why is everyone obsessed with it?”
She hesitated.
“Because your mother was part of an experimental program.”
I stared.
“What program?”
“Genetic identification.”
“Explain.”
“They were trying to create a biological marker that couldn't be forged.”
I felt sick.
“Why?”
“To identify witnesses.”
“And I inherited it?”
My mother nodded.
“Partially.”
“Emma?”
Her eyes filled with tears.
“Yes.”
I whispered:
“So Emma has it too.”
“Yes.”
“That's why they want her.”
“Yes.”
I stepped backward.
“Then the sedative…”
“Was never about killing her.”
My mother looked at me.
“It was about getting a blood sample.”
My stomach turned.
“They injected her?”
“Yes.”
“The puncture marks.”
My mother nodded.
“Exactly.”
I closed my eyes.
Someone had used my daughter as a living key.
A noise came from behind us.
Everyone turned.
The church doors slowly closed.
My mother grabbed my arm.
“Don't move.”
A woman's voice echoed from the balcony.
“Mother.”
My mother's face went white.
“Rebecca.”
A woman stepped into the light.
She looked like Rachel.
But she wasn't Rachel.
The scar above her eyebrow was unmistakable.
She smiled.
“Hello, Sarah.”
I stared at her.
“Where is Emma?”
“Safe.”
“Where is my father?”
“Safe.”
“Where is Rachel?”
She tilted her head.
“Which Rachel?”
My stomach dropped.
“There is only one.”
Rebecca smiled.
“No.”
She walked down the stairs.
“There are two.”
My mother whispered:
“Rebecca, please.”
Rebecca looked at her.
“You abandoned me.”
“I was trying to save you.”
“You let them take me.”
“I had no choice.”
“You always had a choice.”
She reached the floor.
Then she looked at me.
“You're the one they chose.”
“Who?”
“The organization.”
“Why?”
“Because you survived.”
“Survived what?”
She smiled.
“Your birth.”
I stared at her.
“What does that mean?”
Rebecca stepped closer.
“Your mother gave birth to twins.”
My breath stopped.
“One was me.”
She pointed to herself.
“One was Rachel.”
Then she pointed at me.
“And one was you.”
I couldn't breathe.
“Three?”
My mother began crying.
Rebecca nodded.
“Triplets.”
The word echoed through the church.
“Three daughters.”
My mind raced.
Rachel.
Rebecca.
Me.
Three sisters.
My entire life had been built around a lie.
“Why did nobody tell me?”
Rebecca's smile disappeared.
“Because one of us was supposed to die.”
“Who?”
She looked at my mother.
“Rachel.”
My mother covered her face.
I felt the world collapse.
“Then how is she alive?”
Rebecca whispered:
“She wasn't.”
I froze.
“What?”
Rebecca smiled.
“The woman you called Rachel was never Rachel.”
My heart stopped.
“Then who have I been calling my sister all these years?”
Rebecca looked directly into my eyes.
“A woman named Elise.”
May you like
Silence.
“And Elise,” Rebecca continued, “is the one who poisoned Emma.”
