Chapter 9 - THREE
“No.”
Margaret said it before anyone else could.
Charles stared at the photograph.
His hands began to shake.
“That’s impossible.”
Emily leaned over Margaret’s shoulder.
“There are three babies.”
Claire backed away.
“No. No way.”
Margaret could hear her own heart.
Three.
Not one.
Not twins.
Three daughters.
Daniel took the photograph.
“I never noticed the mirror.”
Charles looked terrified now.
Not guilty.
Terrified.
Margaret saw it.
“You knew about twins.”
“Yes.”
“But not three.”
“No.”
“Then who knew?”
A weak voice came from the doorway.
“Dr. Harris.”
Ruth.
She stood there with one arm in a sling, face gray.
Daniel moved to help her.
She waved him away.
“Margaret had triplets.”
Margaret stared at her.
“You knew?”
“I found out years later.”
“Who is the third girl?”
“I don’t know.”
Margaret screamed.
“STOP SAYING YOU DON’T KNOW!”
Ruth flinched.
For twenty-two years, Margaret had been the polite wife.
The patient wife.
The grieving wife.
The woman who swallowed anger because anger embarrassed powerful men.
That woman was gone.
“You stole my child,” she said. “Your brother lied to me. Your father faked his death. Seven people burned in a hospital. And now you’re telling me there was another baby?”
Ruth cried silently.
“Yes.”
“Who took her?”
“Dr. Harris.”
“Why?”
“To sell her.”
Emily stared.
“What?”
Ruth covered her mouth.
“He ran illegal adoptions.”
Claire’s face twisted.
“Jesus Christ.”
“Couples paid cash. Records disappeared. Babies were moved across state lines.”
Margaret whispered, “My daughter was sold?”
Ruth nodded.
“We think so.”
“Where is Harris?”
Charles answered.
“Dead.”
Daniel looked at him.
“When?”
“Ten years ago.”
“How?”
Charles hesitated.
Claire snapped, “Can anybody in this family answer one question without making it worse?”
Charles said, “Thomas killed him.”
The room went silent.
Margaret felt no surprise this time.
That scared her.
Emily walked to the window.
“So there’s another woman out there.”
Margaret turned.
“She could be anywhere.”
“Does she know?”
“No.”
“Does she have a family?”
“I don’t know.”
“Does she even know her birthday?”
Margaret started crying.
Emily turned back.
For the first time, she walked to Margaret willingly.
She didn’t hug her.
But she took her hand.
It was enough.
Daniel’s phone buzzed.
He checked it.
A message.
No number.
Just a photo.
He went pale.
“What?” Margaret asked.
Daniel showed them.
The picture had been taken only seconds earlier.
Through the lake house window.
It showed all of them standing in the room.
Below it was a message.
YOU HAVE ONE HOUR.
Then another photo arrived.
A young woman sat tied to a chair.
Dark hair.
May you like
Blue eyes.
On her hand was a heart-shaped birthmark.
