Chapter 4 - Thomas Vale
Thomas Vale refused to explain over the phone.
He gave me an address outside Baltimore and told me to come alone.
I did not.
I brought Rebecca.
We also told the detective assigned to Sophie's restraint case where we were going.
Thomas lived in an isolated brick house beside an abandoned horse farm.
He was seventy-one.
The man who opened the door looked unmistakably like the young man in Margaret's photograph.
Older.
Thinner.
But undeniably him.
He looked at me.
Then at Sophie, who was staying safely with Rebecca's husband in the car.
“You brought the child?”
“She doesn't leave my sight unless she's with someone I trust.”
Thomas nodded sadly.
“Good.”
I held up the photograph.
“You wrote this?”
He looked at it.
His face changed.
“I thought Margaret destroyed that.”
“Who is the baby mentioned on the back?”
He looked toward the floor.
“Evan.”
I had expected the answer.
It still landed like a blow.
“You're Evan's father.”
“Yes.”
“Does Evan know?”
“Not from me.”
“Charles does.”
Thomas closed his eyes.
“Then Margaret finally ran out of places to bury the truth.”
Rebecca folded her arms.
“Why did you tell Claire her daughter wasn't supposed to survive?”
Thomas looked toward the road.
“Because Bellhaven wasn't just a fertility clinic.”
“What was it?”
“My brother Nathan and I founded it in 1996.”
He sat down.
“We built it legitimately.”
“For years, everything was legitimate.”
“Then Nathan became obsessed with genetic lineage.”
I stared at him.
“What does that mean?”
“He believed wealthy families would pay enormous amounts to control who carried their blood.”
I felt sick.
Thomas continued.
“At first, it was embryo selection.”
“Then unauthorized substitutions.”
Rebecca whispered, “Donor fraud?”
Thomas nodded.
“Worse.”
He looked at me.
“There were families where a parent wanted a grandchild but didn't trust the spouse their son or daughter had chosen.”
My blood turned cold.
“Margaret.”
He said nothing.
That silence was enough.
“What did she do?”
Thomas looked ashamed.
“She contacted Nathan.”
“When?”
“Before your first Bellhaven appointment.”
I stood.
“No.”
“She told him you were unfit to continue the Whitmore line.”
I could barely speak.
“So she changed Evan's sperm sample?”
Thomas shook his head.
“That was the original plan.”
“The original plan?”
“Nathan intended to replace Evan's specimen with another sample selected by Margaret.”
“Whose?”
Thomas hesitated.
“Mine.”
The room seemed to disappear around me.
“You're telling me Margaret wanted her former lover to father my baby?”
“She trusted my genetics more than yours or Charles's.”
“That doesn't make sense.”
“It does to Margaret.”
Thomas looked exhausted.
“She spent her entire adult life obsessed with bloodlines.”
“But I never agreed.”
I stared at him.
“So how could Sophie's DNA connect to Charles?”
Thomas leaned forward.
“Because Nathan didn't use my sample.”
“Whose did he use?”
He looked directly at me.
“That's the question that could get people killed.”
Rebecca laughed bitterly.
“Someone chained a five-year-old to a porch over a photograph.”
“I think we're already past subtle.”
Thomas stood.
“You need another DNA test.”
“With who?”
“Margaret.”
I frowned.
“Why?”
“Because the result will reveal the part nobody knows.”
“What part?”
Thomas looked toward the window.
“Margaret isn't who Charles thinks she is either.”
A car turned onto the property.
Thomas went white.
“Who knows you're here?”
“The police.”
“Anyone else?”
“No.”
The car accelerated.
Thomas grabbed my arm.
“Get down.”
A rock shattered the front window.
Rebecca screamed.
The vehicle never stopped.
It passed the house and disappeared down the road.
On the floor beside us lay the rock.
A piece of paper was tied around it.
Thomas unfolded the note.
Three words were written in black ink.
STOP DIGGING, TOMMY.
He looked genuinely terrified.
I asked the obvious question.
“Who calls you Tommy?”
He stared at me.
“Only two people still alive.”
“Who?”
“My brother Nathan.”
“And?”
May you like
Thomas swallowed.
“Margaret.”
