Chapter 2 - The Man Who Was Supposed to Be Dead
Thomas didn't look like the grandfather I had imagined.
Actually, I had never imagined him at all.
Dad never showed me pictures.
Whenever I asked about my mother's family, he became angry.
“They're gone.”
“Gone where?”
“Out of our lives.”
Once, when I was nine, I had asked if my grandfather was still alive.
Dad had looked at me for a long time.
“No.”
That was all.
Now the supposedly dead man was sitting beside my hospital bed.
And he wouldn't stop looking at me.
“You have Rachel's eyes.”
I looked away.
“I barely remember her.”
Thomas's jaw tightened.
“Your father told you she abandoned you.”
“Yes.”
“He lied.”
I looked at him.
“Why?”
Thomas didn't answer immediately.
Instead, he asked,
“Did Rachel ever mention a woman named Vanessa?”
My stomach tightened.
“Yes.”
Thomas leaned forward.
“What did she say?”
I remembered the letter.
“She said she was afraid of someone.”
“Who?”
“I don't know.”
“Did she mention your father?”
I hesitated.
“She wrote that Dad didn't know the whole truth.”
Thomas closed his eyes.
For a moment, he looked older.
Then the door opened.
Denise stepped inside.
She had regained some of her composure, but her hands were still shaking.
Thomas stood.
“Denise.”
She looked at me.
Then at him.
“I need to tell you something.”
Thomas nodded.
She closed the door.
“Your mother wasn't admitted to this hospital because of an accident.”
I frowned.
“What?”
Denise looked at Thomas.
“She came here twelve years ago.”
Thomas's face became rigid.
“Twelve years ago?”
Denise nodded.
“She was injured.”
“How badly?”
“She was terrified.”
Thomas took a step toward her.
“Why didn't you tell me?”
“You were reported dead.”
“That doesn't answer my question.”
Denise looked down.
“She begged us not to contact your family.”
“Why?”
“She said someone was watching her.”
My hands went cold.
“Was it my dad?”
Denise didn't answer.
That silence told me enough.
Thomas turned toward me.
“Where is the letter?”
I handed it to him.
He read it once.
Then again.
His fingers tightened around the paper.
“What?”
He looked at me.
“This isn't Rachel's handwriting.”
I stared at him.
“What?”
“This letter was written to look like hers.”
I felt the room tilt.
“No.”
Thomas turned the paper over.
“There is something hidden beneath the ink.”
He looked at Denise.
“Do you have a forensic document specialist here?”
Denise nodded slowly.
“Why?”
Thomas placed the letter on the table.
“Because someone wanted this girl to find it.”
I stared at him.
“Someone?”
He nodded.
“And I don't think that someone was your mother.”
Before I could respond, Thomas's phone rang.
He answered.
His expression changed after three seconds.
“What?”
He listened.
Then said,
“Lock the records room.”
He ended the call.
I asked,
“What happened?”
May you like
Thomas looked at me.
“Someone just accessed your mother's old medical file.”
