Chapter 6 - Hawthorne House)
Alexander reached Vermont before noon.
Mara refused to stay behind.
Gabriel argued.
Alexander argued harder.
Mara ignored both.
“My children were almost drugged because of your family’s secrets. I’m done waiting in protected rooms while other people decide what I’m allowed to know.”
The boys remained under guard with Mrs. Alvarez, who had been flown in from New York and accepted the sudden private jet ride with surprising calm.
“I always knew your life was suspicious,” she told Mara.
“You thought I was hiding from debt collectors.”
“I was being polite.”
Hawthorne House stood behind iron gates surrounded by pine forest.
From the outside it looked peaceful.
Inside, it looked abandoned in a hurry.
Beds stripped.
Cabinets open.
Medication carts empty.
Hard drives removed.
Gabriel’s team photographed everything.
Alexander entered room twelve.
According to the facility’s internal chart, C. Warren had lived there for eleven years.
A wheelchair remained beside the window.
Alexander touched the handle.
His brother had sat there.
Maybe every day.
Alive.
While Alexander visited a grave.
Mara noticed photographs taped beside the bed.
Not family pictures.
Landscapes.
Mountains.
Train stations.
Crowded streets.
Old photographs clipped from magazines.
Then she noticed one hand-drawn image.
Four small circles beneath a larger circle.
“Alexander.”
He turned.
She held it up.
Written beneath the drawing were four letters.
M M M M.
Alexander stared.
“How would he know about the boys?”
Mara felt uneasy.
“Maybe he didn’t.”
Gabriel entered.
“We found a locked therapy office.”
They forced the door.
Inside were dozens of recorded-session transcripts.
Most were labeled C. Warren.
Alexander opened the newest.
Patient continues to repeat statements concerning “the four heirs.”
Patient displays agitation when asked to identify source of information.
Patient insists “Victoria will erase them like she erased me.”
Alexander stopped reading.
Mara felt sick.
Gabriel took the paper.
“There’s a date.”
Three years earlier.
“How did Adrian know they were alive three years ago?” Alexander asked.
No one answered.
A noise came from the hallway.
Alexander turned.
An elderly nurse stood near the stairs.
She raised both hands.
“I’m not armed.”
Gabriel approached cautiously.
“Who are you?”
“Eleanor Shaw. Night nurse.”
“Where is Adrian Whitaker?”
Her eyes filled.
“I don’t know.”
Alexander stepped forward.
“Did you care for him?”
She looked at his face.
Her breath caught.
“You’re Alexander.”
“Yes.”
She began crying.
“I told him you’d come someday.”
Alexander swallowed.
“Tell me what happened.”
Eleanor explained.
Adrian had arrived nearly twelve years earlier under sedation.
His spinal injuries had already been surgically stabilized.
He suffered memory loss.
For years he barely spoke.
Then fragments returned.
Names.
Places.
His brother.
His mother.
A phrase he repeated whenever Victoria visited.
The door under the lake.
Alexander frowned.
“What does that mean?”
“I don’t know.”
“When did my mother last visit?”
“Five weeks ago.”
Mara asked, “Did she know Adrian remembered?”
Eleanor nodded.
“That was why she became frightened.”
“Victoria Whitaker frightened?”
“Terrified.”
Eleanor looked at Alexander.
“Your brother started remembering the night of his accident.”
Alexander’s pulse increased.
“What did he remember?”
“That Graham Pike was driving behind him.”
Gabriel exchanged a glance with Mara.
“And?”
“That Adrian wasn’t alone in the car.”
Alexander froze.
“Who was with him?”
Eleanor hesitated.
“Your father.”
Alexander stared.
“No. My father died years later.”
“He told Adrian to run.”
“From what?”
“From Victoria.”
Mara felt the room contract around them.
Eleanor continued.
“Adrian said your father discovered that Victoria had altered the family trust.”
Alexander’s voice was barely audible.
“Altered how?”
“She created a mechanism to control shares through medical incapacity.”
Gabriel immediately understood.
“If an heir was legally deemed incompetent, Victoria could exercise voting authority as guardian.”
Eleanor nodded.
“Adrian found out.”
“So she had him declared mentally incapacitated?”
“After the crash.”
Alexander looked toward the empty wheelchair.
“And my father?”
Eleanor’s face changed.
“That is the part Adrian could never remember clearly.”
“What part?”
“He said your father came to Hawthorne House.”
“When?”
“Many times.”
Alexander stared.
“After his death?”
“Yes.”
Silence.
Mara whispered, “So Charles really was alive.”
Eleanor looked confused.
“Was?”
Gabriel spoke.
“The patient seen with Pike was Adrian.”
Eleanor shook her head.
“No.”
Alexander stepped closer.
“What?”
“Mr. Charles Whitaker was here too.”
Everyone froze.
“Where?”
“Not in the main building.”
Eleanor looked toward the forest behind the facility.
“There’s another structure.”
Gabriel frowned.
“We searched the property map.”
“It isn’t on the property map.”
She lowered her voice.
“Your mother called it the Annex.”
Alexander’s stomach turned.
“How many patients?”
“I never knew.”
“Take us there.”
Eleanor hesitated.
Then nodded.
They followed an overgrown path into the woods.
After nearly half a mile, Mara saw concrete between the trees.
A low structure built partially underground.
The entrance required a code.
Eleanor entered six numbers.
The door opened.
Cold air escaped.
Inside were medical rooms.
Old surveillance equipment.
File cabinets.
And a wall covered with family photographs.
Alexander stopped.
There were photographs of him.
At college.
At his wedding rehearsal dinner for a wedding that never happened.
At business meetings.
At his father’s funeral.
Photographs taken over twelve years.
Mara found another section.
Pictures of herself.
Pregnant.
Leaving work.
At a grocery store.
At the clinic.
Then photographs from Illinois.
Wisconsin.
New York.
Her and the boys.
For years.
Mara stepped backward.
“They always knew where we were.”
Alexander looked sick.
A voice came from behind them.
“Yes.”
Everyone spun.
Graham Pike stood in the doorway.
Older now.
Gray-haired.
Scar beside his right ear.
He held no weapon.
Gabriel’s security team raised theirs anyway.
Pike lifted his hands.
Alexander stared.
“You kidnapped Mara.”
Pike nodded once.
“Yes.”
“You helped fake my sons’ deaths.”
“Yes.”
“You kept my brother prisoner.”
Pike’s expression changed.
“No.”
Alexander stepped toward him.
“Then start explaining.”
Pike looked at the photographs.
“You think your mother built this place.”
“Didn’t she?”
“No.”
“Who did?”
Pike looked directly at Alexander.
“Your father.”
Silence.
Then a weak voice came from the shadowed hallway behind Pike.
“That’s true.”
A wheelchair rolled slowly into view.
The man sitting in it was pale and painfully thin.
But Alexander recognized him immediately.
Adrian.
His brother looked at him.
May you like
And smiled.
“Took you long enough.”
