Claire Anne Morgan.
“My middle name is Anne,” Claire whispered.
“My foster mother said it was the only name I had when I came to her.”
I looked at my husband.
“David, who is she?”
He pressed both hands against the table.
“Anna, let me explain.”
“Answer me.”
David looked toward the photograph.
“She’s Rachel’s daughter.”
Claire gripped the back of her chair.
Emily moved beside her and took her hand.
“You knew?” Claire asked.
“You knew who my mother was?”
“I knew her name.”
“You came to my foster home.”
“To make sure you were safe.”
Claire’s voice sharpened.
“You stood outside the playground and watched me.
When Mrs.
Foster asked who you were, you drove away.”
“I couldn’t risk being seen.”
“Risk what?” I demanded.
“Someone discovering you had found my sister’s child?”
David walked toward me.
I stepped back.
“Rachel was frightened,” he said.
“She was involved with dangerous people.”
“My sister worked in a pharmacy and taught Sunday school.”
“You didn’t know everything about her.”
“And you did?”
His jaw tightened.
“Rachel found something in my office.
Financial records she didn’t understand.
She accused me of taking money from your parents’ estate.”
“Did you?”
“No.”
Claire removed another folded paper from the envelope.
“Then why did she write your name eleven times?”
David lunged.
Emily stepped between them.
“Don’t touch her.”
“Give me that paper,” he said.
“No,” Claire replied.
David pointed at her.
“You walk into my house carrying accusations from a woman who was unstable, and you expect me to stand here quietly?”
I snatched the paper from Claire and unfolded it.
The first lines were written in Rachel’s hand.
David knows about the missing money.
David knows where Michael’s files are.
If he says I abandoned Claire, he is lying.
“Who was Michael?” I asked.
Claire’s lips parted.
“My foster mother said that was my father’s name.”
David turned away.
“Michael Cole was my business partner,” he said.
