Chapter 7 - The Mother Who Lost Him

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

Noah stared at Claire.

For thirteen years, he had known that face better than any other in the world.

It was the face that had leaned over him when he was sick.

The face that appeared outside school when he had gotten into a fight.

The face that laughed when he ruined pancakes and pretended they were supposed to be black.

His mother.

Whatever a DNA report said, that word still belonged to Claire.

But now she stood in an abandoned hospital telling him that another woman had given birth to him.

"No."

His voice barely came out.

Claire stepped closer.

"Noah, come to me."

He didn't move.

Anna stood behind him.

"Tell him all of it, Claire."

"Shut up."

"He deserves the truth."

"You don't get to say that."

Claire's expression transformed.

Noah had never seen hatred like that on her face.

"You stole him."

Anna flinched.

"I saved him."

"From his mother?"

"From Thomas."

Claire crossed the room so quickly that Noah barely saw her move.

She slapped Anna.

The sound cracked through the room.

Anna didn't retaliate.

Claire grabbed Noah's shoulders.

"Did she hurt you?"

"No."

"Did she give you anything? Inject you?"

"No!"

Claire pulled him against her.

For one second Noah allowed himself to disappear into the familiar smell of her clothes.

Then he remembered the report.

He stepped away.

"Is it true?"

Claire's hands remained suspended between them.

"Noah—"

"Are you my mother?"

Claire looked as if he had struck her.

"Yes."

"Biologically."

Silence.

Noah's eyes burned.

"Biologically."

Claire slowly shook her head.

Something inside him broke.

He turned away.

"Who is?"

"Noah, please."

"Who gave birth to me?"

Claire looked at Anna.

Anna said nothing.

"Tell me!"

Footsteps echoed somewhere above them.

Claire immediately turned toward the door.

"We have to leave."

"No."

"Noah."

"I'm not going anywhere until somebody answers me."

"This isn't safe."

"Nothing has been safe since you pretended to die!"

Claire froze.

Noah regretted the words instantly.

But he couldn't take them back.

Her eyes filled with tears.

"I never wanted you to believe I was dead."

"But you knew about the funeral."

"Yes."

"You let it happen."

"I thought it would protect you."

Noah laughed bitterly.

"Everyone keeps protecting me by lying."

Claire had no answer.

Anna quietly said, "Her name is Rachel."

Claire turned.

"Don't."

Anna continued.

"Rachel Mercer."

"Anna!"

Noah repeated it.

"Rachel Mercer."

The name meant nothing.

"Where is she?"

Anna's face tightened.

"We don't know."

Claire closed her eyes.

Noah understood.

"She disappeared three days ago."

Claire looked at him.

"How do you know that?"

"The messages."

He showed her the phone.

Claire read them.

With each message, her expression grew more frightened.

COME TO ROOM 317 IF YOU WANT TO MEET HER.

Claire handed the phone back.

"These aren't from Thomas."

"How do you know?"

"Because Thomas doesn't negotiate with children."

A man's voice came from the corridor.

"Your mother always understood me better than people realized."

Thomas.

Claire shoved Noah behind her.

Anna reached into the cabinet and pulled out a small pistol.

Noah stared.

"How many people brought guns?"

"Not enough," Anna said.

The door opened.

Thomas stood there.

Victoria was behind him.

Her hands had been bound.

Thomas held Victoria's gun against her neck.

"Put it down, Anna."

Anna aimed at him.

"You first."

Thomas smiled.

"Still impulsive."

"And you're still a monster."

"Perhaps."

His eyes moved toward Claire.

"But at least I've never pretended otherwise."

Claire's body became rigid.

"Where's Daniel?"

"Alive."

"How alive?"

"That depends on how quickly someone finds him."

Victoria struggled.

"Don't give him anything!"

Thomas pressed the gun harder against her.

"Quiet."

Noah stepped from behind Claire.

"What do you want?"

Thomas looked at him.

"The microfilm."

Noah touched the photograph beneath his hoodie.

"Why?"

"Because it belongs to me."

"It belongs to the children you stole."

Thomas sighed.

"Is that what they've told you?"

"The records are right there."

"Records without context are stories written by bureaucrats."

Anna laughed.

"You falsified half of them."

"Exactly my point."

Thomas extended his hand.

"Give me the photograph."

"No."

Thomas cocked the gun.

Victoria closed her eyes.

Claire whispered, "Noah."

He looked at her.

She nodded.

Give it to him.

Noah slowly removed the photograph.

Thomas smiled.

"Good boy."

He hated those words.

He walked toward him.

Then stopped.

"Let Victoria go first."

"No."

"No photograph."

Thomas's expression changed.

"You think you're negotiating?"

"I think you need this more than I need Victoria."

Victoria looked offended despite the gun against her neck.

"Noah!"

He ignored her.

Thomas studied him.

Then pushed Victoria forward.

She stumbled.

Anna grabbed her.

Noah held out the photograph.

Thomas reached for it.

Noah dropped it.

Thomas instinctively looked down.

Claire moved.

She slammed her shoulder into him.

The gun fired.

The bullet struck the ceiling.

Anna kicked the weapon away.

Victoria tackled her father.

Noah grabbed the photograph.

"Run!" Claire screamed.

They ran.

Claire pulled Noah through a second door.

Anna and Victoria followed.

Thomas shouted behind them.

The corridor erupted with footsteps.

More than one person.

"He has men here," Anna said.

They reached a stairwell.

"Basement," Claire said.

Victoria stared at her.

"Why?"

"There's another exit."

"How do you know?"

Claire kept moving.

"Because I've been here for six days."

They descended.

The basement was colder.

Unlike the upper floors, it had electricity.

Noah saw recently installed cameras.

Computers.

Medical equipment.

"This place isn't abandoned," he whispered.

"It never was," Anna replied.

They passed a room filled with filing cabinets.

Another contained hospital beds.

Then Noah saw children's photographs pinned across a wall.

Dozens.

Different ages.

Different decades.

Some had names beneath them.

Some only numbers.

Noah stopped.

"Are these the babies?"

Anna nodded.

"Some."

Claire pulled him.

"Don't look."

But he already had.

One photograph showed a newborn wrapped in a yellow blanket.

Number 27.

Beside it was a newer photograph.

A young woman.

Approximately twenty.

Dark hair.

Gray-green eyes.

Noah recognized those eyes.

They looked like his.

Beneath the picture:

RACHEL MERCER.

His biological mother.

Noah touched the photograph.

"That's her?"

Claire nodded.

"Yes."

He stared.

She wasn't some abstract name anymore.

She was real.

"Why did she give me away?"

Claire's face crumpled.

"She didn't."

Noah turned.

"What?"

"Rachel wanted you."

"Then how did you get me?"

Claire looked at Anna.

Anna lowered her eyes.

Thirteen years earlier, Claire explained, Rachel had been seventeen.

She had grown up without knowing the truth about her own adoption.

Then she became pregnant.

Thomas discovered who she really was.

One of the children connected to St. Catherine's.

One of the people whose existence could reopen everything.

"He wanted control of her," Claire said.

"So he brought her here."

Noah looked around the basement.

"While she was pregnant?"

"Yes."

Anna continued.

"Rachel escaped after you were born."

"With me?"

"No."

Noah's voice became smaller.

"Why not?"

"Because Thomas had you."

Claire took his hand.

"Anna got you out."

Noah looked at her.

"You stole me."

Anna's eyes filled with tears.

"I carried you through a laundry tunnel underneath this building."

"And gave me to Claire?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Because Thomas knew I was alive. He knew Victoria. He knew Daniel. But Claire had already left the Whitmore estate."

Claire continued.

"I had Michael."

Noah's father.

The mechanic.

The man Noah remembered only through photographs and a few fragmented childhood memories.

"Michael agreed to raise you as his own."

Noah's throat tightened.

"Did he know?"

"Everything."

"Why didn't he tell me?"

"Because we promised Rachel."

Noah stared.

"You knew her?"

Claire nodded.

"After she escaped, she contacted us."

"Then where did she go?"

"She believed Thomas would find you through her."

"So she stayed away."

"To keep you alive."

Noah turned back to Rachel's photograph.

For years he had occasionally wondered why he didn't look much like Claire.

Now he knew.

"Did she ever see me?"

Claire began crying.

"Every year."

Noah turned.

"What?"

"From a distance."

His chest hurt.

"Where?"

"Birthdays. School events. Once at the park."

Memories flashed through his mind.

A woman near the school gate.

A stranger sitting alone on a bench.

Someone who had smiled at him in a grocery store and then hurried away.

Maybe none of those were Rachel.

Maybe one was.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because she asked me not to."

Noah's anger returned.

"Everyone makes decisions about my life except me."

Claire reached for him.

He moved away.

A phone began ringing.

Not Noah's.

Not Claire's.

Anna looked around.

The sound came from beneath Rachel's photograph.

Victoria removed the picture from the wall.

A phone had been taped behind it.

It rang again.

No caller ID.

Claire whispered, "Don't."

Noah answered.

"Hello?"

Silence.

Then a woman breathed.

Noah's heart stopped.

The sound reminded him of Victoria's voicemail.

"Who is this?"

A trembling voice answered.

"Noah?"

He couldn't breathe.

Claire covered her mouth.

"Rachel?"

The woman began crying.

"Oh God."

Noah gripped the phone.

"Are you my mother?"

Silence.

Then:

"Yes."

The word hit him harder than anything that had happened that night.

"Where are you?"

"I can't tell you."

"Are you hurt?"

"No."

"Did Thomas take you?"

"No."

Everyone looked at each other.

"Daniel?"

"No."

"Then who?"

Rachel took a shaking breath.

"Noah, listen carefully. Claire is in danger."

Noah looked at Claire.

"She's right here."

"No."

Rachel's voice became urgent.

"You don't understand."

"What?"

"The woman with you isn't Claire."

Noah stared at the woman standing three feet away.

Claire heard it.

Her face changed.

Rachel continued.

"Claire never escaped St. Catherine's."

Noah's blood turned cold.

"What are you talking about?"

"The woman calling herself Claire is someone else."

Noah backed away from her.

"Who?"

Rachel began to answer.

Then a crash came through the phone.

Someone screamed.

"Rachel!"

The line went dead.

Noah slowly lowered the phone.

Everyone stared at Claire.

She looked terrified.

"Noah."

He stepped backward.

"Don't come near me."

"Listen to me."

"Who are you?"

"Noah—"

"WHO ARE YOU?"

Claire closed her eyes.

When she opened them, tears ran down her face.

"There's something Rachel doesn't know."

Anna stared at her.

"What?"

Claire looked at Anna.

Then at Victoria.

Finally at Noah.

"The real Claire Carter died thirteen years ago."

Noah felt the room tilt.

"Then who are you?"

She reached toward him.

He recoiled.

Her hand fell.

"My name isn't Claire."

"What's your name?"

She looked at the photograph Noah still held.

At the three young women standing together twenty years earlier.

Claire.

Victoria.

Anna.

Then she pointed to the girl Noah had always believed was his mother.

"That was Claire."

Her finger moved to the woman standing in the middle.

The girl everyone had called Anna.

"But that..."

Her voice broke.

"...was me."

Anna's face went white.

"No."

Victoria whispered, "That's impossible."

The woman Noah had called Mom for thirteen years looked directly at Anna.

"You aren't Anna."

Silence.

"You're Rachel's mother."

Noah stared at the woman beside him.

The supposed Anna.

Her expression changed.

The fear disappeared.

So did the vulnerability.

Something colder took its place.

She smiled.

And from somewhere behind the walls, heavy locks slammed shut.

One after another.

The false Anna looked at Noah.

"You finally figured it out."

Then every light in the basement went dark.