Chapter 12
938 Words
We drive back to the estate in silence.
The birth certificate sits between us. Sarah Mitchell. Lily's real mother. Dead six years.
Julian's knuckles are white on the wheel.
"She was eighteen when she had Lily," I say quietly. "Single. No family listed."
"Except the Blackwood connection."
"Except that."
The road winds through the trees. Bare branches scratch the sky. Gray clouds hang low.
"She gave birth at a clinic," I continue. "The same one the adoption agency used. All records sealed."
"By my father."
"By your father's law firm."
Julian's jaw tightens. A muscle jumps in his cheek.
"Sarah Mitchell died a year later," I say. "Car accident. Ruled accidental."
"Ruled."
"You think it wasn't?"
"I think nothing about this family is accidental."
The words hang in the air. Heavy. Cold.
I pull out my phone. Search for Sarah Mitchell's obituary. Find it in a local paper archive.
"'Beloved daughter. Survived by her mother, Margaret Webb.'"
Julian's head snaps toward me.
"Margaret Webb is Sarah's mother?"
"Adoptive mother. The records match."
"Marcus's wife adopted Sarah?"
"It looks that way."
"Then Lily is Margaret's granddaughter."
"Through adoption. But yes."
"Which means Margaret Webb has been watching Lily her whole life."
"Or someone has been paying her to."
Julian pulls the car over. Kills the engine. The silence rushes in.
"My father knew Margaret was connected to Sarah. He kept her employed. Paid her through the estate."
"To keep her quiet."
"To keep Lily hidden."
"But Elena found out."
"Elena found everything."
I stare at the birth certificate. The paper is yellowed. The ink is faded.
"Elena came to the estate six years ago. She joined the agency board. She met your father. She met Marcus. She met Margaret."
"And she found the records."
"Then she married you."
"To get close to the truth."
"Or to protect Lily."
Julian rubs his face. His hands are shaking.
"I married a woman who was investigating my family."
"Yes."
"And I never knew."
"Because she was good at her job."
"Her job was exposing my father."
"Her job was protecting a child."
He looks at me. Pain and gratitude fighting in his eyes.
"You sound like you admire her."
"I do."
"Why?"
"Because she did what no one else would. She sacrificed herself for a little girl she never met."
Julian stares at the dash.
"And now that little girl is alone."
"Not alone. Margaret has her."
"A woman paid to keep her hidden."
"A woman who loved Sarah enough to adopt her."
"Or a woman who was paid enough to keep quiet."
"Maybe both."
The wind rocks the car. Branches scrape the roof.
"I need to meet Margaret," Julian says.
"Tonight?"
"Now."
"You think she'll talk?"
"I think she has nothing left to lose."
He starts the engine. The car roars to life.
"Where does she live?"
"Shady Grove Lane. The old agency building."
"The one that never opened?"
"It's a house now. Margaret lives there alone."
"Since when?"
"Since Sarah died."
I pull up the map on my phone. The address glows on the screen.
"Turn around. Take the third left."
Julian checks the rearview mirror. His eyes scan the road behind us.
"Someone's been following us since the bank."
I twist in my seat. A black SUV sits a hundred yards back.
"How long?"
"Since we left."
"Morrison?"
"No. Different plates."
My pulse quickens.
"Lose them."
Julian presses the accelerator. The engine roars. Trees blur past.
The SUV speeds up behind us.
"Hold on."
He takes a sharp turn. The tires scream. I grab the door handle.
The SUV follows. Closer now.
"Who are they?"
"I don't know. But they're not police."
He takes another turn. Then another. We weave through back roads.
The SUV stays with us.
"They're good," Julian mutters.
"Too good."
He slams the brakes. The car skids to a stop.
I gasp. "What are you doing?"
"Testing them."
The SUV stops too. Fifty yards behind. Waiting.
"They're not attacking."
"They're herding us."
"Where?"
Julian looks at the road ahead. His face goes pale.
"The old warehouse district. Dead end."
"Can we turn around?"
He checks the side mirror. Another car blocks the road behind us.
"Trapped."
My hands grip the seat. My heart pounds in my throat.
"We need to run."
"On foot?"
"Yes."
He kills the engine. Grabs the birth certificate.
"Go."
We burst out of the car. The cold hits me like a wall.
Behind us, doors open. Footsteps on gravel.
We run.
The warehouse looms ahead. Rusted tin. Broken windows.
Julian pulls me toward a side door. It's unlocked.
We slip inside.
Darkness swallows us.
Dust fills my lungs. Old machinery looms in the shadows.
Footsteps echo outside.
Julian's hand finds mine in the dark. His grip is warm. Steady.
"Don't make a sound."
I press close to him. His heartbeat against my back.
The footsteps stop outside the door.
A shadow blocks the light.
Then a voice. Familiar.
"Ava. Julian. I know you're in there."
Morrison.
Relief floods through me. Then confusion.
Why would Morrison follow us?
"I'm not here to arrest you," he calls. "I'm here to warn you."
Julian doesn't move.
"Warn us about what?"
"About Margaret Webb."
"She's dead," Morrison says. "Found her an hour ago. Same way as Elena."
The world tilts.
"The killer knows you're close. He's cleaning up loose ends."
Julian's grip tightens.
"You're next, Julian."
The words echo in the dark.
Morrison's footsteps fade.
We stand in the silence. Dust settling. Hearts pounding.
Margaret Webb is dead.
The last person who knew the truth.
Except one.
The killer.
And he's coming for us next.
- Writer
