Chapter 7 - The Lawyer Who Knew Too Much
Harold did not run.
That made him more frightening.
When Graham confronted him, he calmly removed his glasses and placed
them on the conference table.
“Yes,” he said. “I met Mara.”
Beatrice whispered, “When?”
“Yesterday.”
Graham stared at him.
“You stood beside me while I searched for her.”
“I was protecting her.”
“From whom?”
Harold looked toward the glass wall.
“From the Vale family.”
Graham slammed his palm on the table.
“I am the Vale family.”
“Exactly.”
I watched Harold carefully.
He had served the family for twenty-seven years. He knew every trust,
lawsuit, marriage settlement and buried scandal.
“Why would Mara trust you?” I asked.
“She didn’t.”
“Then why meet?”
“Because Elizabeth Brooks told her that if she ever needed to return,
she should find me.”
My mother again.
Every answer pulled her deeper into a life I had never known.
Harold opened his briefcase.
Inside were copies of old ledgers from St. Agnes.
Charles Vale had not merely hidden Mara there.
He had invested in the facility.
Several wealthy families used it to conceal pregnancies, disputed
inheritances and inconvenient relatives.
The Vale Foundation moved money through charitable grants.
Graham looked sick.
“Shut the foundation down.”
“You can’t.”
“Watch me.”
“Not because of money. Because shutting it down destroys the evidence
trail.”
Graham sat back.
“What does Mara want?”
“To expose everyone.”
“Then why hide?”
“Because one person involved is still powerful enough to hurt her.”
“Who?”
Harold looked at Beatrice.
She went pale.
“No.”
Graham followed his gaze.
“Mother?”
Beatrice stood.
“I never hurt those women.”
Harold shook his head.
“Not you.”
“Then who?”
He slid a photograph across the table.
It showed Charles Vale with three men at a St. Agnes fundraiser.
One was Dr. Pike’s father.
One was a judge who had died years ago.
The third man was unmistakable.
Senator Thomas Reed.
Monica’s father.
Evelyn’s father.
The respected patriarch who had spent Christmas Eve smiling for cameras
beside the charity tree.
Graham whispered, “He knew.”
Harold nodded.
“He helped seal the court records.”
Police moved quickly.
But Senator Reed had already left his residence.
His private plane remained grounded.
His driver was missing.
So was Mara.
At the hospital, Julia refused to leave her daughter.
Graham visited her that afternoon.
I went with him because Julia had asked me to.
The baby slept against Julia’s chest.
Graham stood awkwardly beside the bed.
“What did you name her?”
“Hope.”
He smiled.
“That’s subtle.”
“I’ve had a difficult week.”
He laughed for the first time.
Then Julia said, “I want a DNA test.”
His smile faded.
“Why?”
“Because Monica told me something at St. Agnes.”
“What?”
“She said the baby’s father was chosen for a reason.”
Graham looked at me.
Julia continued.
“I don’t think the father is random.”
DNA testing was expedited through investigators.
Results would take time.
Meanwhile, Lucy insisted on decorating our small apartment because, as
she put it, “criminals don’t get to cancel Christmas.”
We hung Ben’s old wooden ornaments.
Rachel baked cookies badly.
Graham unexpectedly appeared carrying a box.
“What are you doing here?” I asked.
“Lucy invited me.”
I looked at my daughter.
She shrugged.
“He looked lonely.”
Graham held up the box.
“I brought pie.”
Rachel inspected it.
“Store-bought.”
“I run department stores. I don’t bake.”
Lucy whispered, “We can teach you.”
For two hours, the Vale scandal stayed outside.
We played cards.
Graham burned cookies.
Lucy laughed until milk came out her nose.
Then someone knocked.
Every adult froze.
I checked the peephole.
A woman in her sixties stood outside wearing a gray wool coat.
Snow covered her dark hair.
Graham came beside me.
His knees nearly gave way.
“Mara.”
I opened the door.
The woman looked at him.
For a long moment neither spoke.
Then Mara said, “You still tilt your head when you’re scared.”
Graham began crying.
She touched his face.
“My little brother.”
He hugged her.
Eighteen years collapsed in our doorway.
Then Mara looked past him toward Lucy.
Her expression changed.
“Oh my God.”
I stepped in front of my daughter.
“What?”
Mara stared at Lucy as if she had seen a ghost.
“That child looks exactly like Elizabeth did at that age.”
My heart hammered.
“You knew my mother?”
Mara nodded.
“She saved my life.”
May you like
Then she handed me an envelope.
“And Natalie, I think she may have saved yours too.”
