Chapter 13 - Rachel’s Final Secret
Jonathan Pierce was alive.
Barely.
Someone had bound his hands behind an antique nursery chair.
His face was bruised.
A cut above his ear had soaked the side of his collar.
The message behind him was written in dark red across pale wallpaper.
ASK CHRISTOPHER WHO EMMA’S MOTHER REALLY WAS.
Christopher stopped in the doorway.
Gideon stood beside Jonathan.
Two federal agents had arrived and were photographing the room.
One turned.
“Mr. Pierce.”
Christopher barely heard him.
He stared at the message.
Emma’s mother was Rachel.
That was the one fact he believed nobody could change.
Jonathan lifted his head.
His eyes found Christopher.
“You.”
Christopher stepped closer.
“Who did this?”
Jonathan laughed weakly.
“You’re asking the wrong question.”
“Who?”
“Your mother.”
Christopher froze.
“Estelle tied you here?”
Jonathan nodded.
“Why?”
“Because she thought I told Theodore about the Sparrow Fund.”
Christopher stared.
“You know about it.”
Jonathan smiled through blood.
“Everyone knows now.”
Gideon looked at Christopher.
That was bad.
Jonathan continued.
“Arthur hid ten percent of voting shares for Emma.”
“He thought he was clever.”
“But Theodore found the trust.”
Christopher’s jaw tightened.
“When?”
“This morning.”
“How?”
Jonathan laughed.
“Ask Victoria.”
Christopher turned.
Victoria stood in the hall.
Her face changed.
“What?”
Jonathan smiled.
“Your lawyer filed the sealed paternity certification.”
Christopher looked at Victoria.
She immediately shook her head.
“I filed nothing.”
Jonathan’s smile faded.
“What?”
Victoria stepped into the room.
“The certification was already active when I searched.”
Jonathan stared.
“Impossible.”
Christopher’s pulse increased.
“Who activated it?”
Victoria swallowed.
“Someone using Rachel Monroe’s legal identity.”
Silence.
Christopher stared.
“Rachel is dead.”
“Yes.”
“Then someone forged it.”
“Possibly.”
Jonathan laughed softly.
“No.”
Everyone turned.
He leaned his head back.
“You people are still so far behind.”
Christopher approached.
“What do you know?”
Jonathan smiled.
“Untie me.”
“No.”
“Then enjoy ignorance.”
Gideon grabbed the back of the chair.
“I can make ignorance less comfortable.”
Federal Agent Reynolds stepped forward.
“Mr. Shaw.”
Gideon looked at him.
“Step away.”
Gideon obeyed reluctantly.
Reynolds looked at Jonathan.
“You are currently a victim in this room.”
“That does not grant you immunity for anything else.”
Jonathan smiled.
“I know.”
Christopher crouched in front of his uncle.
“Who activated Rachel’s identity?”
Jonathan stared.
“Rachel.”
Christopher’s expression went flat.
“She’s dead.”
Jonathan whispered.
“Are you sure?”
Christopher stood so quickly the chair scraped backward.
“No.”
Jonathan smiled.
“Interesting reaction.”
“Rachel died in Gideon’s arms.”
Gideon stepped forward.
“She did.”
Jonathan looked at him.
“You held a dying woman in the dark beside an overturned car.”
“Yes.”
“You identified her?”
Gideon stared.
“Of course.”
“How?”
“I knew my sister.”
Jonathan laughed weakly.
“Did you see her face?”
Gideon went silent.
Christopher turned.
“Gideon.”
The color drained from Gideon’s face.
“The car had rolled.”
“Her face…”
He swallowed.
“There was blood.”
“A lot.”
Jonathan smiled.
“And swelling.”
Gideon looked sick.
Christopher shook his head.
“No.”
“Rachel spoke to him.”
Jonathan nodded.
“Yes.”
“She called him Daniel.”
“Many people knew his name.”
Christopher stared.
“DNA?”
Gideon looked at the floor.
“No.”
“What?”
“The body was cremated quickly.”
Christopher looked at Jonathan.
Jonathan’s eyes glittered.
“The Pierce family was remarkably efficient.”
Christopher felt the room narrowing.
Rachel alive?
No.
Impossible.
Yet Arthur had been alive.
Theodore had been alive.
Estelle’s parents had been lies.
Juliette’s motherhood had been hidden.
Leo’s death had been faked.
Nothing in this family stayed buried properly.
Christopher’s voice became quiet.
“If Rachel survived, whose body was in the car?”
Jonathan’s expression changed.
“I don’t know.”
“You just said—”
“I said you should ask who Emma’s mother really was.”
Christopher stared.
“That doesn’t mean Rachel is alive.”
“No.”
Jonathan leaned closer.
“It means Rachel Monroe may never have been Rachel Monroe.”
Gideon grabbed the wall.
“What?”
Jonathan looked at him.
“Your sister discovered it before the crash.”
Gideon’s face hardened.
“What are you talking about?”
Jonathan looked delighted by their confusion.
“Margaret raised two girls.”
“Rachel and?”
“Estelle?”
Christopher asked.
Jonathan shook his head.
“No.”
“Estelle was earlier.”
“The second girl was Rachel’s age.”
Gideon stared.
“I had one sister.”
“That’s what you were told.”
Jonathan continued.
“Margaret worked for Theodore.”
“She kept children hidden.”
“Records hidden.”
“People hidden.”
Christopher thought of Margaret at the boathouse.
She knew too much.
“What girl?”
Jonathan’s voice dropped.
“Rebecca.”
Gideon went white.
Christopher looked at him.
“You know that name.”
Gideon nodded slowly.
“When I was little…”
He swallowed.
“I had an imaginary friend named Becca.”
Jonathan smiled.
“She wasn’t imaginary.”
Gideon stumbled backward.
“No.”
“She lived with you until you were six.”
“No.”
“Then she disappeared.”
Gideon looked horrified.
Christopher asked.
“Twins?”
Jonathan nodded.
“Rachel and Rebecca.”
Gideon stared.
“My mother told me Rachel was born alone.”
“Margaret lied.”
“Why?”
Jonathan laughed weakly.
“Because Theodore wanted one of them.”
Christopher felt disgust.
“For what?”
Jonathan looked at him.
“An experiment.”
Federal Agent Reynolds frowned.
“What kind of experiment?”
Jonathan turned toward him.
“A social one.”
Theodore believed environment created loyalty.
He had spent decades selecting children from dependent families.
Educating them.
Placing them.
Using them.
Christopher thought of Estelle.
Juliette.
Perhaps Margaret.
“Rebecca was raised where?”
Jonathan smiled.
“In Pierce homes.”
“Not this one.”
“Other estates.”
“Boarding schools.”
“She was taught to imitate Rachel.”
Christopher stared.
“Why?”
“So one could replace the other.”
The room went silent.
Gideon shook his head.
“That’s insane.”
“Yes.”
Jonathan agreed easily.
“Theodore often was.”
Christopher thought of the night Rachel died.
Two identical sisters.
One car.
One body.
“Which one was Emma’s mother?”
Jonathan looked directly at him.
“That is the question.”
Christopher felt cold.
“I was with Rachel.”
“Were you?”
Christopher’s fists clenched.
Jonathan continued.
“The woman you loved called herself Rachel.”
“That does not mean she was born Rachel.”
Gideon whispered.
“My sister had a scar.”
Christopher turned.
“What?”
“Rachel fell from a bicycle when she was ten.”
“Scar beneath her left knee.”
Christopher remembered.
The woman he loved had that scar.
He had seen it.
Gideon exhaled.
“Then she was Rachel.”
Jonathan smiled.
“Unless Rebecca was given the same scar.”
Gideon lunged.
Federal agents restrained him.
“You sick bastard!”
Jonathan laughed through pain.
Christopher stepped backward.
He needed certainty.
Something objective.
“Emma’s DNA.”
Victoria looked at him.
“What?”
“Compare Emma to Gideon.”
Gideon stopped struggling.
Christopher continued.
“If Rachel was his biological sister, Emma should be related.”
Victoria nodded.
“We can arrange rapid testing.”
Jonathan smiled.
Christopher looked at him.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“What?”
Jonathan shrugged.
“I simply admire optimism.”
Christopher leaned close.
“What else do you know?”
Jonathan whispered.
“Theodore already tested her.”
Christopher’s stomach tightened.
“Emma?”
“Yes.”
“When?”
“Years ago.”
“Results?”
Jonathan smiled.
“Ask Estelle why she never called Emma her granddaughter.”
Christopher straightened.
Emma was Christopher’s daughter.
Paternity proved that.
But if Rachel was not Gideon’s sister…
Then who was her mother?
A shout came from downstairs.
Christopher turned.
Footsteps rushed up the hall.
Yvette appeared.
She was breathless.
“Sir.”
“What?”
“Emma is missing.”
Christopher’s heart stopped.
“Again?”
Yvette shook her head quickly.
“No.”
“She left me a note.”
Christopher grabbed it.
Emma’s handwriting.
DADDY DON’T BE MAD.
A LADY SAID SHE KNOWS WHERE MOMMY IS.
I WENT TO SEE.
Christopher’s hands began shaking.
“Who took her?”
Yvette handed him something else.
A photograph.
Recent.
Taken outside Pierce House.
A woman stood near the gate.
Her face was partly turned away.
But Christopher recognized the profile.
His knees almost gave out.
Rachel.
Older.
Alive.
On the back was an address.
A motel twenty miles away.
And four words.
COME ALONE.
May you like
SHE DESERVES THE TRUTH.
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