Chapter 13 - The Child Beneath the NameNobody spoke.
Eleanor approached the photograph.
Her face drained of color.
“That isn't possible.”
My mother stared at her.
“Edward told me you were twenty-six when you disappeared.”
“I was.”
“And this photograph…”
“I'm thirty-nine.”
Quinn looked at the date.
“Then that's not Eleanor.”
We stared at the photograph.
The baby had the same dark eyes as my grandfather.
The same chin.
But not Eleanor.
My father laughed.
“Finally.”
“Who is she?” I asked.
He didn't answer.
“Dad.”
He looked at me.
“You really want to know?”
“Yes.”
“She is the reason your grandfather chose you.”
He turned to the wall.
Behind the photographs was a hidden steel drawer.
He opened it.
Inside were birth records.
One certificate was marked CONFIDENTIAL.
He handed it to me.
I read it.
The mother's name was my mother.
The father's name was Daniel Park.
The child was born one year before me.
Female.
I stared.
“Who is this?”
My mother whispered the answer.
“My first daughter.”
My head spun.
“You had another child?”
“Yes.”
“What happened?”
She began crying.
“Martin took her.”
Everything stopped.
“He took her?”
“When she was born, Martin discovered the truth about my pregnancy.”
“Why didn't you fight him?”
“I did.”
“What happened?”
“He told me he'd kill her.”
I looked at my mother.
“Where is she?”
She looked at Quinn.
Quinn went pale.
“No.”
“What?”
“My father was involved?”
“He helped hide her.”
“Where?”
My mother whispered,
“In Canada.”
The room went silent.
“You've been hiding a child for twenty-six years?”
“Martin believed she was dead.”
I looked at my father.
He was smiling.
“Martin knew.”
My mother shook her head.
“No.”
“He knew.”
He took a photograph from the drawer.
A teenage girl.
She had my eyes.
My blood turned cold.
“Who is she?”
My father answered.
“Your sister.”
The girl was alive.
She was somewhere nearby.
And my father had known all along.
“Where is she?”
He looked at me.
“Bring me the ring.”
I stepped forward.
“You're using her.”
“Yes.”
“You kidnapped her too?”
“No.”
“Then where is she?”
He smiled.
“She's the reason Quinn came back into your life.”
I looked at Quinn.
He closed his eyes.
“You knew.”
“I knew there was someone.”
“Who?”
“Your sister.”
“Where?”
“Safe.”
“Where?”
He finally answered.
“At the Harbor Saint Clinic.”
My father interrupted.
“Was safe.”
I looked at him.
“What did you do?”
He leaned close.
“She isn't safe anymore.”
My mother screamed.
Quinn grabbed his collar.
“You son of a…”
My father laughed.
Then alarms sounded.
Quinn stopped.
A voice came through the house.
SECURITY BREACH.
My father stepped backward.
“This house is wired to burn.”
“What?”
He smiled.
“You have three minutes.”
He disappeared through a hidden door.
The walls began to shake.
Smoke filled the hallway.
Eleanor grabbed the birth certificate.
Nathan pulled my mother toward the stairs.
Quinn ran toward me.
“We move now.”
But I saw something on the floor.
A small key.
Stamped 317.
Again.
I picked it up.
Behind me, the wall opened.
Inside was a narrow room.
A hospital bed.
A file.
And a security photograph of the girl.
She wasn't in Canada.
She was here.
At the clinic.
And beneath her photograph was a message.
TRANSFERRED TO MERCER HOUSE 11:40 P.M.
May you like
I looked at the clock.
11:39.
