“Then take it.”
David looked at me.
“Anna, bring your daughter home and we can still fix this.”
“She is standing exactly where she belongs.”
Margaret flipped through the folder with shaking fingers.
A small card fell onto the floor.
Claire picked it up.
It was a receipt from St.
Catherine’s Residential Center, dated six months earlier.
The resident’s name was Rebecca Moore.
On the back, someone had written:
Rachel Morgan — mail returned by David Ellis.
Claire looked at Margaret.
“You said my mother signed me away eighteen years ago.
Why was David returning her mail six months ago?”
Margaret opened her mouth, but no words came.
Her phone rang.
She glanced at the number and answered.
A woman shouted loudly enough for all of us to hear.
David grabbed Margaret’s phone and ended the call.
“Who was that?” I demanded.
“No one who understands Rachel’s condition.”
Claire’s fingers closed around the receipt.
“She’s alive.”
David moved toward the door.
“Rachel suffered a stroke years ago.
She gets confused.”
“You told me she was dangerous,” I said.
“You told Claire she abandoned her.
Which lie are you using now?”
He looked at Margaret.
“We’re leaving.”
Margaret did not move.
“Did you return Rachel’s letters?” she asked.
“I handled her correspondence under a legal authority.”
“The authority expired twelve years ago.”
David’s voice hardened.
“Be careful.”
Margaret removed a second phone from her bag and placed it on the desk.
“I began recording when you threatened Emily.”
David reached for it, but Mrs.
Alvarez locked it in her drawer.
“Security is already on the way,” she said.
David turned to me.
“If you expose private family matters, Emily will hear things she can never forget.”
“She heard you threaten to take away her education.”
“She’ll also hear that you ignored your sister the night she begged you for help.”
The room tilted.
“What night?”
“The night before Rachel disappeared.
She called the house three times.
You didn’t answer.”
“I was at the hospital with Emily.”
“I answered,” David said.
“Rachel asked for you, and I told her you were finished cleaning up her messes.”
My breath caught.
Claire reached for me.
“Anna, look at me.”
