Chapter 9 - HARBOR HOUSE
Harbor House stood on a rocky stretch of coast two hours north of Boston.
Daniel didn’t speak during the drive.
Emily sat beside him.
Eleanor sat in the back.
No one wanted her there.
Daniel had allowed it for one reason.
She knew the room number.
The facility director met them in a private office.
“Rachel Lawson?”
He looked confused.
“We have no patient under that name.”
Eleanor spoke quietly.
“Try Rebecca Lane.”
Daniel turned toward her.
“You changed her name?”
“No. Victor did.”
The director typed.
His expression shifted.
“Yes.”
Daniel leaned forward.
“Where is she?”
“Room 312.”
He paused.
“She has been here twenty-seven years.”
Daniel went still.
“Twenty-seven?”
The director looked at the file.
“She was admitted two years before your birth.”
Eleanor whispered, “That’s impossible.”
Emily noticed.
“You said you found her here eight years ago.”
“I did.”
The director opened more records.
“Rebecca Lane was admitted after a suicide attempt.”
Daniel asked, “Who admitted her?”
The director read.
“Richard Whitmore.”
Silence.
Margaret, who had joined them, stared at Eleanor.
“Before she was pregnant?”
The director frowned.
“The file says she was pregnant during several early admissions.”
Daniel’s face tightened.
“Several?”
The truth emerged slowly.
Rachel had been sent to Harbor House repeatedly.
Richard had been abusing and controlling her long before Daniel was born.
Each time she tried to leave, he had her committed under a false name.
The night she gave birth, she had escaped Harbor House.
Richard found her.
He took Daniel.
Then Victor returned Rachel to the institution.
Daniel whispered, “For twenty-five years?”
The director looked sick.
“Her fees were paid through a private trust.”
“Whose?”
“Whitmore Holdings.”
Daniel turned toward Eleanor.
She shook her head.
“I didn’t know.”
Margaret snapped.
“You never know anything.”
Daniel stood.
“Take me to her.”
Room 312 was small.
A woman sat beside the window.
Thin.
Gray hair tied behind her head.
She turned when the door opened.
Daniel froze.
Her eyes were his.
Rachel looked at him for a long time.
Then her hands began trembling.
She stood.
“Danny?”
Daniel stopped breathing.
No one had called him Danny since he was six.
“How do you know me?”
Rachel touched her chest.
“You look like him.”
Daniel’s expression hardened.
“Richard?”
Rachel shook her head.
“No.”
Everyone froze.
She stepped closer.
“You look like your father.”
Daniel whispered, “Richard Whitmore was my father.”
Rachel’s eyes filled with tears.
“No, sweetheart.”
Eleanor grabbed the doorframe.
Margaret whispered, “Rachel…”
Daniel stared.
“Then who was?”
Rachel looked directly at Eleanor.
“Her husband knew.”
Eleanor shook her head.
Rachel continued.
“But Richard wasn’t your father.”
Daniel’s voice cracked.
“Who was?”
Rachel whispered the name.
“Thomas Whitmore.”
Eleanor nearly collapsed.
Daniel frowned.
“Who is Thomas?”
Margaret answered.
“Richard’s older brother.”
Daniel stared.
“But he died before I was born.”
Rachel shook her head.
“No.”
May you like
She looked toward the locked window.
“He was murdered.”
