Chapter 5 - The Mother Everyone Had Buried
Laura whispered into the phone: “My mother died eleven years ago.”
Lucas slid a photograph beneath Margaret’s old front door.
A date had been written across the bottom:
AUGUST 12 — LAST YEAR.
The woman standing beside Lucas was Diane Rowan.
Laura's supposedly dead mother.
The photograph detonated what remained of the family’s history.
Diane Rowan had been declared dead after a car accident eleven years earlier.
There had been a funeral.
Evelyn had attended.
Laura had stood beside the coffin.
“How could she be alive?” I asked.
Evelyn's answer was quiet.
“The coffin was closed.”
Diane had supposedly suffered severe injuries.
Identification had been made through documents found in the vehicle and dental records.
Police reopened the case.
Within hours, inconsistencies appeared.
The dentist who signed the identification had retired overseas.
The records submitted after the accident were copies.
The body had been cremated immediately after the funeral.
Laura looked physically ill.
“My entire life is paperwork written by people who lied.”
Michael sat beside her.
This time he didn't try to protect her from anything.
He simply held her hand.
Lucas called again that evening.
Laura put him on speaker.
“Why are you doing this?” she asked.
“Because Margaret told me you found the records.”
“Where is Mom?”
“I can't tell you.”
“Why?”
“Because I promised.”
Laura laughed bitterly.
“Everyone in this family seems to have made promises except me.”
Lucas was silent.
Then he said, “She thought she was protecting us.”
“From what?”
“Our father.”
Laura froze.
Her father, David Rowan, had died when she was fourteen.
She remembered him as difficult.
Controlling.
Sometimes cruel.
But never dangerous.
Lucas told a different story.
Diane had discovered during pregnancy that David owed enormous gambling debts.
He had begun using family members’ identities to obtain loans.
When the twins were born, Diane feared he would use both children as leverage against her wealthy parents.
Margaret helped her create a plan.
One baby would remain.
One would disappear.
“Why you?” Laura asked.
“I was sick.”
Lucas's voice cracked.
“They thought I might need expensive care. Margaret knew a couple who desperately wanted a child.”
“So Mom gave you away?”
“Yes.”
“And told everyone you died?”
“Yes.”
Laura covered her mouth.
“Did she ever come back for you?”
A pause.
“Yes.”
That hurt more.
I saw it in Laura’s face.
Her mother had known Lucas.
Visited him.
Watched him grow.
While Laura never knew he existed.
“Why didn't she tell me?”
“She was afraid.”
“Of Dad?”
“At first.”
“And after he died?”
Lucas said nothing.
Laura understood.
“Then she was afraid of me.”
“She was ashamed.”
“That's not the same thing.”
“No.”
“Where is she?”
“I can't tell you yet.”
“Lucas.”
“I'm sorry.”
The call ended.
For several days, nothing happened.
Police traced Margaret’s vehicle.
Abandoned.
No Diane.
No Lucas.
No Margaret.
Then the forensic report came back on the kitchen.
The flour contained trace particles of old brick dust.
The same combination found in samples from the Reed warehouse.
Someone had brought flour from that building into Laura’s kitchen.
But there was more.
A fingerprint had been recovered from the colander.
Not Rachel.
Not Margaret.
Not Michael.
Not me.
Police ran it.
There was a match.
Lucas Rhodes.
I stared at the detective.
“Lucas was in the kitchen?”
“Yes.”
Rachel looked horrified.
“That means he moved Noah.”
Apparently.
But why?
The answer arrived that night.
Lucas called me.
Not Laura.
Me.
“How did you get my number?”
“Margaret.”
“Were you in the house?”
“Yes.”
I gripped the phone.
“Why did you put Noah in the sink?”
“I needed you to notice everything.”
“You could have left a note.”
“I did.”
“The message?”
“Yes.”
“Why the colander?”
A pause.
Then Lucas said, “Because that's how Margaret found me.”
I stopped.
“What?”
“When I was six weeks old, Diane panicked.”
His voice became strained.
“David came home unexpectedly. She was trying to hide me before the adoptive couple arrived. She put me in a laundry sink at the old warehouse.”
My stomach turned.
“The colander?”
“There was an industrial flour sieve nearby. Margaret found me beneath it.”
“You recreated the scene with Noah?”
“Yes.”
“Why would you do that?”
“To force them to remember.”
“He is a newborn, Lucas.”
“I know.”
“You terrified everyone.”
“I never hurt him.”
“That doesn't make it acceptable.”
He was silent.
I continued.
“You put a baby into a family secret he had nothing to do with.”
“I know.”
“Why his sock?”
“I exchanged it for mine.”
“The old one?”
“Yes.”
“Where did you get it?”
“Diane kept it.”
I sat down.
“So Diane knew you were doing this?”
“No.”
“Margaret?”
“Yes.”
“Where is Rachel during all this?”
“Margaret frightened her because she thought Rachel would interfere.”
“And the stranger at the door?”
“Me.”
I closed my eyes.
Lucas had been there.
He had entered after Rachel stepped away.
Moved Noah.
Left the clues.
Then vanished.
“Why didn't you simply meet Laura?”
His voice softened.
“Because I spent thirty-two years imagining her.”
“And?”
“I was afraid the real person would hate me.”
“She doesn't.”
“You can't know that.”
“I do.”
“How?”
“Because every time your name comes up, she looks like someone trying to recover thirty-two stolen years.”
Silence.
Then Lucas whispered, “Tell her I'm sorry.”
“No. Tell her yourself.”
“I can't.”
“Yes, you can.”
“No.”
“Lucas—”
“I called because Diane is coming.”
My heart jumped.
“Where?”
“To Laura’s house.”
“When?”
“Tonight.”
I stood.
“Why?”
“She wants to see Noah.”
“No.”
“Claire.”
“No one secretly appears around that baby anymore. I'm finished with that.”
“I understand.”
“Does Laura know?”
“No.”
“Then I'm telling her.”
“Wait.”
“What?”
Lucas lowered his voice.
“Diane thinks Margaret has the original hospital ledger.”
“So?”
“She doesn't.”
“Who does?”
“I do.”
The line went silent for a moment.
May you like
Then Lucas said:
“And the ledger proves our mother wasn't the person who decided I should disappear.”
