Chapter 11 - THE SISTER WHO SHOULD HAVE BEEN DEAD
The woman called herself Evelyn Mercer, although the name belonged to Jonathan’s mother.
“My birth name was Anna,” she explained. “Evelyn was our mother.”
Eleanor remained between Anna and Marian.
“How did you enter this shelter?”
“I helped Jonathan build the secondary tunnel.”
“Jonathan never mentioned you.”
“He was trying to keep me alive.”
Anna closed the shelter door.
Above them, footsteps moved through the greenhouse.
“Richard’s men?” Marian whispered.
“Not Richard’s,” Anna replied.
“How do you know?”
“Because Richard does not know this room exists.”
Eleanor studied her face.
Anna shared certain features with Jonathan.
The deep-set eyes.
The narrow bridge of the nose.
The slight asymmetry of the mouth.
It could be coincidence.
Or careful surgery.
“Prove who you are,” Eleanor said.
Anna removed a locket from beneath her coat.
Inside was a photograph of Jonathan as a young man.
Beside it was half of a handwritten letter.
Eleanor recognized Jonathan’s writing.
Anna handed it to her.
If anything happens to me, Eleanor must never be told until the child is safe.
Eleanor looked up.
“What child?”
Anna did not answer.
“The infant in Thomas Mercer’s photograph?” Eleanor asked.
Anna’s face changed.
“You found it.”
“Who is the baby?”
“Not here.”
“You entered my shelter and claimed to be my husband’s sister. You will answer me here.”
A heavy impact shook the greenhouse floor.
Dust fell from the ceiling.
Anna looked toward the tunnel.
“They have found the upper entrance.”
“Who?”
“The people Thomas tried to expose.”
“They have been searching for you for twenty-two years?”
“They have been searching for the child.”
Marian spoke.
“What was happening at the Chesapeake facility?”
Anna’s expression hardened.
“Unauthorized genetic trials.”
Eleanor felt suddenly unsteady.
Whitmore Health Group manufactured medical equipment. It did not conduct genetic experiments.
“At our facility?”
“In a laboratory hidden beneath it.”
“That is impossible.”
“The laboratory did not belong to Whitmore Health.”
“Then who financed it?”
“Money was moved through your company accounts so no one would look beyond the Whitmore name.”
Eleanor remembered the twelve million dollars.
“Who controlled the trials?”
Anna looked directly at her.
“Your father-in-law.”
“Jonathan’s adoptive father died in 1979.”
“The public program ended in 1979.”
“The secret program continued.”
Another impact shook the shelter.
Marian moved boxes away from the secondary exit.
Anna continued.
“The program searched for inherited resistance to neurological disease. Children from selected families were tracked for decades.”
“Tracked how?”
“Medical records. Schools. Marriages. Pregnancies.”
Eleanor thought of Caroline’s miscarriages.
A cold terror settled inside her.
“Was my daughter part of this?”
Anna did not answer quickly enough.
Eleanor seized her arm.
“Was Caroline part of it?”
“Yes.”
Marian stopped moving.
Eleanor released Anna as if burned.
“What did they do to her?”
“I do not know everything.”
“You know enough.”
“They monitored her fertility treatments.”
“Richard chose those doctors.”
“Yes.”
“Did he know?”
“Not at first.”
“And later?”
Anna looked away.
“He learned after the third miscarriage.”
Eleanor struggled to breathe.
Caroline had spent years blaming herself.
Richard had comforted her publicly while hiding the truth.
“What truth?” Eleanor asked. “What happened to the pregnancies?”
Anna’s voice dropped.
“The third child survived.”
The shelter became silent.
Eleanor heard only the distant pounding above.
“No,” she said.
“The hospital told Caroline the baby died.”
“I was there.”
“You saw a covered bassinet.”
“I saw my daughter bleeding.”
“You did not see the child.”
Eleanor remembered that night.
The hurried nurses.
Richard speaking privately with a physician.
The closed nursery doors.
Caroline sedated before she could ask questions.
“Where is the child?”
“That is what everyone wants to know.”
“The infant in Thomas’s photograph?”
“No. That photograph was taken in 1985. Caroline’s child was born eleven years ago.”
“Then who was the infant?”
Anna touched the locket at her throat.
“Richard.”
Eleanor stared at her.
“Richard was ten years old in 1985.”
“The boy known as Richard Mercer was ten.”
The words seemed to rearrange every fact Eleanor possessed.
Anna continued.
“The real Richard Mercer died when he was six months old.”
“Who is my son-in-law?”
“A child placed through St. Catherine’s under Thomas’s protection.”
“Whose child?”
Anna closed her eyes.
“Mine.”
The tunnel door shook.
Metal groaned.
Anna reached into her coat and removed a handgun.
“We have to leave.”
Eleanor did not move.
“Richard is your son.”
“Yes.”
“Does he know?”
“He knows I am alive.”
“That is not what I asked.”
Anna looked toward the failing door.
“He believes Jonathan stole his inheritance and destroyed Thomas.”
“Did Jonathan?”
“No.”
“Then why did you let Richard believe it?”
“Because the truth would have led him to Caroline’s child.”
The metal latch began to bend.
Marian pulled open the secondary tunnel.
Cold air rushed into the shelter.
Anna pushed Eleanor toward it.
“Go.”
Eleanor resisted.
“Where is my granddaughter?”
Anna’s answer was almost lost beneath the crashing metal.
“She was hidden by the one person Richard would never suspect.”
The upper door burst inward.
Armed men entered.
May you like
Anna fired once at the lights.
Darkness consumed the room.
