Chapter 6 - CAROLINE'S LAST SECRET
Thomas transformed Natalie's apartment into something resembling a small federal command post.
She hated every second of it.
Two security agents rotated outside.
Cameras appeared in the hallway.
Her locks were replaced.
Thomas even wanted her temporarily moved to Arthur's estate.
Natalie refused.
"You almost got burned alive there."
Thomas stared at her.
"Technically, the archive room caught fire."
"Comforting."
Arthur wanted her moved to a hotel.
She refused that too.
Finally, she agreed to stay in a Whitmore-owned apartment downtown only because Thomas pointed out that whoever had photographed her months earlier already knew where she lived.
That argument worked.
Before leaving her old apartment, Natalie packed Caroline's box.
At the bottom, beneath an old knitted sweater, she found a key.
Small.
Brass.
Number stamped into it:
317.
Attached was a paper tag in Caroline's handwriting.
Union Station.
Natalie's pulse jumped.
Union Station contained hundreds of public storage lockers decades ago.
Most had been replaced.
But a few long-term private lockers remained in the historic terminal wing.
Arthur insisted on going.
Thomas strongly objected.
Arthur ignored him.
"You two argue like a married couple," Natalie said.
Thomas looked offended.
Arthur looked delighted.
At Union Station, management confirmed locker 317 still existed.
It had been prepaid annually for twenty-six years.
"By whom?" Thomas asked.
The manager checked.
"Caroline Bennett."
Natalie's eyes filled.
Her mother had paid for the locker every year.
Even while struggling to afford groceries.
Even while repairing the same car instead of replacing it.
Even during chemotherapy.
Caroline had protected something until the end.
The key turned.
Inside the locker was a metal box.
Nothing else.
Thomas inspected it before allowing Natalie to touch anything.
Inside were documents wrapped in plastic.
A baby's hospital bracelet.
A second birth certificate.
A VHS tape.
A letter.
And a small stuffed rabbit.
Natalie picked up the bracelet.
BABY WHITMORE, EMILY JANE
9/18/01
Her hand began shaking.
Arthur sat heavily on a nearby bench.
Natalie opened the second birth certificate.
Mother:
Evelyn Rose Whitmore.
Father:
Daniel Thomas Mercer.
Child:
Emily Jane Mercer.
Arthur whispered, "Oh, God."
Natalie couldn't breathe.
The DNA test said they weren't related.
The documents said she might be the missing child.
Thomas said quietly, "Documents can be forged."
Natalie nodded.
She understood.
Arthur looked wounded by the reminder but also knew it was necessary.
They opened Caroline's letter.
Natalie recognized every curve of the handwriting.
My sweet Natalie,
If you are reading this, then either I finally found the courage to tell you or somebody from Evelyn's past found you first. I pray it was me.
Natalie pressed a hand over her mouth.
Arthur looked away to give her privacy.
She continued.
Your name at birth was Emily Jane Mercer. Your mother, Evelyn Whitmore, was my closest friend. We met when she volunteered at the community clinic where I worked. She trusted people too easily and loved too deeply.
When she came to me with bruises on her arm and a six-week-old baby, I helped her leave.
Arthur closed his eyes.
Natalie kept reading.
Evelyn believed Daniel's brother Grant was stealing money through companies connected to the Whitmore Foundation. Daniel discovered it first. Evelyn believed Daniel agreed to help expose his brother.
Natalie looked at Arthur.
"Daniel was helping her?"
Arthur stared at the floor.
"I never knew."
The letter continued.
Grant found out.
Evelyn became terrified. She gave me Emily and told me to drive west. She said she would meet me the next morning.
She never came.
Natalie's vision blurred.
Two days later, I heard about the lake.
I wanted to bring you to Arthur. God forgive me, I wanted to. But Grant found me first.
Arthur went rigid.
Natalie's heart pounded.
He told me Evelyn was dead. He told me Daniel would be dead soon too. Then he showed me photographs of you sleeping in my apartment.
Thomas muttered something under his breath.
Natalie continued.
He said if Arthur ever learned you survived, you would not live long enough to meet him.
Arthur stood abruptly.
"That son of a—"
Thomas put a hand on his arm.
"Let her finish."
Natalie wiped her eyes.
I ran.
I changed our last name. I changed your first name. I moved six times before you turned five.
Memories suddenly made sense.
Different schools.
Different apartments.
Caroline refusing to explain why they moved so often.
Natalie had always thought they were chasing lower rent.
I did not tell Arthur because I was afraid every letter, every phone call, every person I trusted could lead Grant to you.
Maybe I was a coward. Maybe I made the wrong choice. But every night, when I watched you sleep, I chose your life over the truth.
Natalie began crying.
She wasn't ashamed.
Arthur was crying too.
If Arthur Whitmore is alive when you read this, tell him I am sorry. Tell him Evelyn loved him. Tell him I never wanted to steal his granddaughter. I only wanted her to grow up.
Natalie could barely continue.
Natalie, you were never a burden. You were never abandoned. Your first mother died trying to save you. Your second mother lived trying to protect you.
You were loved twice.
Natalie lowered the letter.
For several minutes, no one spoke.
Arthur finally whispered, "Caroline saved her."
Natalie nodded through tears.
"She saved me."
Arthur covered his face.
"I should have found you."
"You didn't know where I was."
"I had resources."
"Grant had resources too."
Arthur looked at her.
Natalie reached over and took his hand.
"For once, stop blaming yourself for surviving something somebody else did."
Arthur's lips trembled.
"That sounds like something a granddaughter might say."
Natalie looked down.
"We still don't know."
Arthur nodded.
The DNA test.
Thomas picked up the hospital bracelet.
"We'll test everything. Bracelet. Letter paper. Fingerprints if possible."
Natalie unfolded another document.
Bank statements.
Transfer records.
Corporate account numbers.
Names.
Dozens of them.
Thomas whistled softly.
"These may be Evelyn's copies."
Arthur looked.
His face darkened.
"Some of these companies still exist."
"Controlled by Grant?"
"Several."
Thomas began photographing every page.
Natalie reached deeper into the box.
One final envelope lay beneath the stuffed rabbit.
Unlike everything else, it had no writing.
Inside was a photograph.
Grant Mercer.
Twenty-five years younger.
Standing beside Caroline's old apartment.
Holding baby Natalie.
Natalie's blood ran cold.
Arthur took the photograph.
His hands began shaking.
On the back Caroline had written:
He said he would kill her himself if I went to Arthur.
Thomas immediately called the police detective assigned to the case.
Natalie sat frozen.
Grant hadn't merely known she existed.
He had held her.
He knew exactly where she was.
The threatening photograph from six months ago suddenly made sense.
Grant had never lost track of her completely.
He had simply allowed her to live because she remained far from Arthur.
Until the bank.
Natalie looked at the old passbook Arthur still carried everywhere.
"Why were you at that bank?"
Arthur frowned.
"To close an old account."
"Which account?"
He removed the passbook.
"The first savings account I opened for Emily after she was born."
Natalie's breath caught.
"What?"
Arthur opened it.
The account name, written in fading ink:
EMILY JANE MERCER — TRUSTEE ARTHUR WHITMORE
Natalie stared.
Arthur's eyes widened too.
Something neither had considered before.
"Arthur."
"Yes?"
"How did Grant know I was at the bank?"
Silence.
Thomas looked up.
Natalie continued.
"He had my photo months ago. He knew where I lived. But why did he suddenly panic yesterday?"
Thomas's face tightened.
"Because somebody told him you were with Mr. Whitmore."
Natalie looked at the passbook.
"The bank."
Arthur whispered, "Someone at the bank called him."
Thomas was already dialing.
Then Natalie's phone rang.
Unknown number.
Thomas motioned for her to put it on speaker.
She answered.
"Hello?"
A woman whispered.
"Ms. Carter?"
"Yes?"
"My name is Melissa Ray."
Natalie recognized it.
The banker from that morning.
The woman who had smiled when Arthur said, "My granddaughter is here."
Melissa was crying.
"I'm sorry."
Natalie's stomach dropped.
"For what?"
"I didn't know what he was going to do."
Thomas moved closer.
"Who?"
Melissa's breathing became ragged.
"Grant Mercer."
Arthur's face hardened.
Melissa continued.
"He told me years ago that if Arthur Whitmore ever came into the bank asking about the Emily Mercer account, I had to call him."
Natalie gripped the phone.
"Why?"
"I don't know."
"Where are you now?"
Silence.
Then Melissa whispered, "I think someone is outside my apartment."
A crash sounded over the line.
May you like
Melissa screamed.
The call went dead.
