Chapter 4 - THE WOMAN IN THE PHOTOGRAPH
We left the hospital before sunrise.
I wanted Alora to stay there.
She refused.
“I am not letting you walk into that house alone.”
“You're pregnant.”
“And you're my husband.”
I couldn't argue.
When we arrived at the estate, police were still outside.
Kareen had been taken into custody for questioning.
Vanessa was being held separately.
The mansion looked different.
It no longer looked like home.
It looked like evidence.
I took Alora upstairs.
We stood in front of the locked nursery.
I tried the handle.
Locked.
I looked at Alora.
“Did you ever see the key?”
“No.”
I pulled out my father's letter.
The floorboard beneath the nursery.
We entered through a locksmith the police had called.
The room smelled stale.
Dust covered everything.
There was no furniture except an old wooden rocking chair.
I walked across the floor.
One board creaked.
I stopped.
I knelt.
The floorboard lifted easily.
Beneath it was a metal box.
Inside was a key.
And another photograph.
This one showed my father with the same woman.
But this time, the baby was older.
A toddler.
On the back:
Thomas Caldwell — six months old.
I stared.
Thomas?
My name was Thane Michael Caldwell.
But suddenly I remembered something from childhood.
My grandmother once called me Thomas.
My mother had slapped her.
I'd been too young to understand.
I sat on the floor.
Alora crouched beside me.
“Thane?”
“My name…”
I swallowed.
“My father wanted to name me Thomas.”
She looked at the photograph.
“Maybe that's why.”
There was another envelope.
I opened it.
Inside was a birth certificate.
My blood ran cold.
The name on the certificate was not Thane Caldwell.
It was:
Thomas James Mercer.
Mother: Evelyn Mercer.
Father: Jonathan Caldwell.
I stared at it.
“Who is Evelyn?”
A voice answered from the doorway.
“My sister.”
I turned.
Kareen stood there.
Two officers were behind her.
She had been released temporarily.
She looked at the document.
Then at me.
“You weren't supposed to find that.”
I stood.
“Who is Evelyn?”
Kareen's eyes filled with tears.
“Your father had an affair.”
“That woman?”
“Yes.”
“And the baby?”
Kareen looked at me.
“You.”
The world tilted.
Alora grabbed my arm.
“No.”
Kareen continued.
“Your father had a son before he married me.”
I stared.
“Then who am I?”
“You were that son.”
I couldn't breathe.
“My father stole me?”
“He didn't steal you.”
“Then what happened?”
Kareen's face twisted.
“Evelyn died.”
“How?”
Kareen didn't answer.
I stepped toward her.
“How did she die?”
She looked away.
“An accident.”
I laughed bitterly.
“Just like my father?”
Her silence destroyed me.
I looked at Alora.
My entire identity had just cracked open.
Then Kareen whispered:
“There's one thing you still don't know.”
“What?”
“Evelyn wasn't your only secret.”
“What does that mean?”
Kareen looked at Alora.
“Your father had another child.”
Alora stiffened.
“Who?”
Kareen pointed toward the photograph.
“Her.”
I looked again.
The woman standing beside my father wasn't Evelyn.
She was someone else.
Someone younger.
And suddenly, I recognized her.
I had seen her before.
In a framed photograph hanging in my mother's bedroom.
My father's secretary.
Margaret Hale.
Kareen whispered:
May you like
“She wasn't his mistress.”
“She was his daughter.”
