Chapter 6 - Which Mother?

"Which mother are you asking about?"

Thomas Whitmore's question hung in the darkness.

Noah stared at the old man who had supposedly been dead for six years.

Behind him, Daniel groaned.

Blood spread between his fingers as he pressed both hands against his wounded side. Victoria stood frozen beside him, staring at the gun on the floor as though she couldn't believe she had fired it.

Thomas seemed unconcerned.

His attention remained on Noah.

More specifically, on the photograph in Noah's hand.

"Give it to me."

"No."

Thomas smiled faintly.

"You sound exactly like her."

"Claire?"

Thomas tilted his head.

"Again, Noah. Which Claire?"

Noah's fear turned into anger.

"Stop doing that."

"Doing what?"

"Talking like you know something everyone else doesn't."

"I usually do."

Thomas extended his hand.

"The photograph."

Noah stepped backward.

Thomas's expression hardened.

"That wasn't a request."

Daniel forced himself upright.

"Don't give him anything."

Thomas finally looked at his son.

For a moment, something colder than hatred passed between them.

"Daniel."

"Father."

"I expected more from you."

Daniel laughed weakly.

"You always did."

"And you always disappointed me."

Daniel removed his hand from the wound for a second.

Blood covered his palm.

"Good."

Victoria seemed to wake from her shock.

"We need an ambulance."

Thomas looked at her.

"No."

"He's bleeding!"

"The bullet passed through."

"You don't know that."

"I taught you to shoot, Victoria."

Her face tightened.

"You taught me many things I wish I'd forgotten."

Thomas smiled.

"And yet you came."

Noah looked at her.

That mattered.

"How did you know I was here?"

Victoria didn't answer.

Thomas did.

"Because I told her."

Noah felt something drop inside his chest.

He looked at Victoria.

"You got the messages?"

"Not the same ones."

"What did yours say?"

She hesitated.

"That you had gone to St. Catherine's."

"And you didn't call Detective Ortiz?"

"No."

"Why?"

"Because the message said Daniel would die if I did."

Daniel laughed again, then winced.

"So naturally you came with a gun."

"I didn't know who would be here."

"You knew enough."

"Stop."

Noah's voice surprised all of them.

Three adults looked at him.

"I'm tired of everyone giving me half an answer."

He held up the photograph.

"My mom gave me this. Evelyn told me to find it. Someone kidnapped my mom because of it. Daniel knew she wasn't dead. Victoria knew about Room 317. And you—"

He pointed at Thomas.

"—are supposed to be dead."

Thomas's amusement disappeared.

"So somebody tells me the truth now."

No one spoke.

Noah swallowed.

"Or I tear this photograph apart."

Thomas moved instantly.

"No!"

It was the first time Noah had heard panic in his voice.

Noah gripped both sides of the photograph.

"Tell me."

Thomas stopped.

Daniel stared at Noah.

Then, despite the blood soaking his shirt, he smiled.

"Claire would be proud."

Thomas's eyes narrowed.

"Your mother was never particularly intelligent."

Noah began tearing one corner.

"Wait."

Thomas's voice sharpened.

Noah stopped.

The old man slowly lowered his hand.

"What do you want to know?"

"Everything."

"No."

Noah pulled again.

"All right."

Thomas exhaled.

"Start with your mother."

Noah's hands trembled.

Thomas walked toward the old hospital bed and sat as calmly as though they were discussing family history over dinner.

"The woman you know as Claire Carter was born Claire Bennett."

Noah frowned.

"Bennett?"

"Her mother worked for me."

"Victoria told me."

Thomas glanced at his daughter.

"Victoria knows very little."

"Then tell him," she said.

Thomas ignored her.

"When Claire was sixteen, her mother died."

Noah had always been told his grandmother died when Claire was older.

Another lie.

"Claire came under my family's protection."

"Protection?" Daniel muttered. "That's what we're calling it?"

Thomas continued.

"She lived on the Whitmore estate for approximately eighteen months."

Noah looked at Victoria.

"You knew her then."

"Yes."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

Victoria whispered, "Because your mother made me promise."

Thomas laughed softly.

"No. Because you were ashamed."

Victoria's eyes filled with anger.

"Of you."

Thomas's smile vanished.

Noah looked at the photograph again.

Three girls.

Claire.

Victoria.

Anna.

"What about Anna?"

Thomas stared at the image.

"There was no Anna."

"You said her name was Anna," Noah said to Victoria.

"That's what she called herself."

Thomas leaned back.

"The girl in that photograph was registered at St. Catherine's under several names. Anna was one of them."

"Who was she?"

No answer.

Noah tightened his grip again.

Thomas sighed.

"My daughter."

Silence.

Victoria looked away.

Noah stared at her.

"Your sister?"

Victoria nodded.

Daniel's eyes closed.

Noah looked between them.

"You had another sister?"

"Half-sister," Thomas corrected.

"Her mother wasn't my wife."

Noah's mind raced.

"Why doesn't anyone know about her?"

"Because she died."

Victoria turned on him.

"Stop lying!"

Thomas looked at her calmly.

"Would you prefer your version?"

"My version is that you erased her."

Thomas's face became cold.

Victoria continued.

"You changed her records. You changed her name. You moved her between clinics. And when she tried to leave, you told everyone she was mentally ill."

"She was unstable."

"She was terrified of you!"

Noah stared at the photograph.

The girl between Claire and Victoria had been smiling.

But now that he studied her expression, he noticed something.

Her hand was gripping Claire's arm.

Not casually.

Desperately.

"Why did Mom have this photograph?"

Victoria answered.

"Because they were close."

"How close?"

"Claire helped her escape."

Thomas's jaw tightened.

For the first time, Noah saw where the real wound in this family was.

Not Daniel.

Not the stolen babies.

Something older.

"What happened after they escaped?"

"They didn't," Thomas said.

Victoria shook her head.

"Claire did."

Noah looked at her.

"And Anna?"

Victoria's voice softened.

"She was brought back."

"What happened to her?"

Thomas stood.

"Enough."

"No."

Noah faced him.

"Was she my sister's mother?"

Everyone became silent.

Noah had guessed.

But their expressions told him he had guessed correctly.

His mind struggled to arrange the pieces.

"My mother gave birth in Room 317."

"Yes," Victoria said.

"But you said Anna—"

"Noah."

Daniel's voice was weak.

He had lowered himself against the wall.

"There's something you need to understand."

Thomas stepped toward him.

"Daniel."

"No."

Daniel looked at Noah.

"Your mother did give birth in Room 317."

Noah waited.

"But Claire wasn't the patient."

Nothing made sense.

"The medical record was changed."

Daniel pointed toward the microfilm.

"Look at the original admission code."

Noah held the transparent strip toward Victoria's flashlight.

Patient 317.

Claire Carter.

Female.

Seventeen.

But beneath the name was another sequence.

A-19.

Victoria whispered, "Anna."

Noah's skin prickled.

"What are you saying?"

Daniel struggled to speak.

"The girl called Anna was pregnant."

Noah stared at him.

"Claire helped her through the pregnancy."

"No."

Thomas stepped forward.

Daniel ignored him.

"When Anna went into labor, Thomas realized she planned to expose everything happening at St. Catherine's."

"No!"

Thomas lunged.

Victoria raised the gun again.

"Stay back!"

Daniel continued.

"So he changed the patient record."

Noah looked at Thomas.

"The baby wasn't Mom's?"

Daniel shook his head.

"The baby in Room 317 was Anna's."

Noah felt dizzy.

"But Evelyn said she was my sister."

"Because that's what Claire told everyone."

"Why?"

"To protect the child."

Noah struggled to understand.

"From who?"

Daniel looked directly at Thomas.

"From him."

Thomas's face had become expressionless.

Noah turned toward Victoria.

"Then why did Mom spend twenty years looking for her?"

Victoria answered quietly.

"Because she promised Anna she would."

Noah looked at the photograph.

SOME FAMILIES ARE CHOSEN.

The sentence finally meant something different.

Claire had claimed another woman's child as her own.

Not legally.

Emotionally.

A promise.

"Where is Anna?"

Victoria began crying.

"She died here."

Thomas corrected her.

"She killed herself."

"You locked her in a psychiatric ward!"

"She was dangerous."

"She was nineteen!"

"She threatened this family."

Victoria's voice rose.

"She was this family!"

Thomas stared at her.

"And look what sentimentality has accomplished."

His eyes moved toward Daniel's wound.

Then Noah.

"A child standing in an abandoned hospital holding evidence he doesn't understand."

Noah slipped the photograph beneath his hoodie.

Thomas's expression hardened.

"You cannot leave with that."

"Watch me."

He turned toward the door.

Thomas moved.

Victoria raised the gun.

"One more step."

Thomas stopped.

Noah ran.

"Noah!" Daniel shouted.

He sprinted into the corridor.

His phone flashlight bounced wildly against the walls.

Behind him came shouting.

Then another gunshot.

Noah didn't stop.

He reached the staircase.

Third floor.

Second.

First.

He pushed through a fire door.

Locked.

"No!"

He pulled again.

Nothing.

Footsteps came from above.

Noah turned.

A hand suddenly reached from the darkness and covered his mouth.

He tried to scream.

"Quiet."

A woman's voice.

She pulled him into a side room.

The door closed.

Noah struggled.

"Stop."

The woman released him.

Noah spun around.

His flashlight illuminated her face.

He knew her.

Not personally.

But he had seen her twenty minutes earlier.

In the photograph.

The girl called Anna.

Except she was no longer nineteen.

She was nearly forty.

Older.

Thinner.

A scar crossed one side of her face.

But unmistakably the same woman.

Noah stared.

"You're alive."

Anna pressed a finger against her lips.

Footsteps passed outside.

Thomas.

"Noah!"

Anna waited until the footsteps faded.

Then she locked the door.

Noah backed away.

"Victoria said you died."

"Victoria believes many things Thomas wanted her to believe."

"Are you his daughter?"

Anna nodded.

"Then why are you hiding?"

"Because Thomas spent twenty years making sure I stayed dead."

Noah remembered the microfilm.

"The baby."

Anna's expression changed.

"Who told you?"

"Daniel."

Her eyes hardened.

"Daniel lies when breathing."

"He said the baby in Room 317 was yours."

Anna looked away.

"Was she?"

A long silence.

"Yes."

"Where is she?"

Anna's eyes filled with tears.

"I don't know."

"But the messages said she disappeared three days ago."

Anna stared at him.

"What messages?"

Noah showed her the phone.

She read them.

Her face changed.

"I didn't send these."

Noah stepped backward.

"Then who did?"

Anna scrolled through them.

"I don't know."

"Who kidnapped my mom?"

"I thought Daniel did."

"He says Thomas did."

"Thomas says whatever keeps people confused."

Noah rubbed his face.

He couldn't tell anymore who was lying.

"Mom's alive, right?"

Anna's expression softened.

"She was yesterday."

"Where?"

"I'll take you to her."

Noah's heart jumped.

"Now?"

"There's something you need to see first."

"No. Mom first."

"If I take you to Claire without showing you this, she'll lie to you again."

Noah stared at her.

"About what?"

"You."

His stomach tightened.

"What about me?"

Anna opened an old cabinet.

Inside was a metal case.

She removed a file.

NOAH CARTER.

Noah stared at his own name.

"Why is that here?"

Anna handed it to him.

Inside were hospital records.

A birth certificate.

DNA results.

Photographs of a newborn.

Noah's hands began shaking.

"This is fake."

"I wish it were."

He found the birth certificate.

Mother:

Claire Carter.

Father:

Michael Carter.

Everything he knew.

Then Anna turned the page.

A laboratory report.

PATERNITY PROBABILITY: 99.98%.

Noah looked at the name.

Not Michael Carter.

Not Daniel Whitmore.

THOMAS WHITMORE.

The paper slipped from Noah's hands.

"No."

Anna caught it.

"Noah—"

"No."

He backed against the wall.

"Thomas is old enough to be my grandfather."

"He is."

"Then this is fake."

"The test isn't yours."

Noah stopped.

Anna turned the page.

At the top was another name.

CLAIRE BENNETT.

Noah stared.

Anna spoke softly.

"The DNA test belongs to your mother."

Noah looked at her.

"Thomas Whitmore is Claire's biological father."

The world seemed to tilt.

Claire.

Victoria.

Daniel.

Anna.

All of them.

Siblings.

Noah's mother had not merely married into the Whitmore family.

She had married her own half-brother.

"No."

"Claire didn't know when she married Daniel."

"Does Daniel know?"

"Now he does."

Noah could barely breathe.

"Why would Thomas hide that?"

Anna looked at him with something close to pity.

"Because Claire wasn't the secret Thomas was most afraid of."

"What was?"

Anna turned to the final page.

Another DNA report.

This one was recent.

Three days old.

Noah saw Claire's name.

Then his own.

Then a third name.

Anna pointed to the result.

"Noah, Claire had this test performed three days before she disappeared."

He looked at the third name.

His mind refused to understand it.

VICTORIA WHITMORE.

"What does this mean?"

Anna didn't answer.

Noah read the relationship estimate.

MATERNAL RELATIONSHIP EXCLUDED.

He looked up.

"I don't understand."

Anna took a breath.

"The woman you've called Claire your entire life isn't your biological mother."

Noah stopped breathing.

Anna turned the report over.

A handwritten note covered the back.

Claire's handwriting.

Noah recognized it instantly.

If anything happens to me, tell Noah the truth.

Anna's eyes filled with tears.

"The woman who gave birth to you is still alive."

Noah's voice came out as a whisper.

"Who?"

Before Anna could answer, the door behind them unlocked from the outside.

A woman stepped into the room.

Her face was bruised.

Her wrists were bandaged.

But Noah recognized her immediately.

"Mom!"

Claire stood in the doorway.

Noah rushed toward her.

Then stopped.

Because Claire wasn't looking at him.

She was staring at Anna.

And the expression on her face wasn't relief.

It was terror.

"Get away from her, Noah."

Anna went pale.

Claire stepped forward.

"She isn't trying to save you."

Noah looked between them.

Claire's voice trembled.

"Anna is the one who took you from your real mother."