Chapter 18 - The Woman at the Table
We returned home before midnight.
Nobody slept.
I couldn't.
Every time I closed my eyes, I saw the photograph.
The woman across from me at Thanksgiving.
She had smiled when I passed the potatoes.
She had asked whether the house had always been this large.
She had complimented my mother's china.
And she had watched me change the seating arrangement.
At the time, I thought she was nervous because she didn't know the family well.
Now I understood.
She had been studying me.
Mark sat beside me on the edge of the bed.
“What was her name?”
I looked at the photograph.
“I don't remember.”
“That can't be true.”
“There were twenty-four people.”
“I know.”
“I didn't know half of them.”
He took the photograph.
“Jonathan said she was your father's daughter.”
I shook my head.
“That doesn't prove she's dangerous.”
“No.”
“But she was there.”
“Yes.”
“She knows about the deed.”
“Probably.”
He lowered the photograph.
“Do you think she's the person who called you?”
“I don't know.”
“Or the person who took the ledger?”
“I don't know.”
Mark sighed.
“We don't know anything.”
I looked at him.
“That isn't true.”
“What?”
“We know someone expected us to find the ledger.”
He nodded.
“We know they expected the house to be transferred tomorrow.”
“Yes.”
“And we know they needed Evelyn's signature.”
“Right.”
“Which means whoever she is, she has been working on this for years.”
Mark stared at the photograph.
“What's her name?”
We called Jonathan.
He answered on the second ring.
“Her name is Rachel.”
“Rachel what?”
“Rachel Morgan.”
I froze.
“Why Morgan?”
“Because that was her mother's surname.”
“Who is her mother?”
Jonathan was silent.
“Jonathan?”
“I don't know.”
“You don't know?”
“Your father suspected, but he never proved it.”
Mark stood.
“How do you have a photograph of her?”
Jonathan said, “Because she was at the funeral.”
“What?”
I stared at Mark.
Jonathan continued.
“She was seventeen.”
“At Dad's funeral?”
“Yes.”
“Why didn't I see her?”
“Because your family kept you away from the adults.”
My hands went cold.
“Where is she now?”
“I don't know.”
“Then who does?”
A long silence.
“Evelyn.”
I turned.
Evelyn was standing in the doorway.
She had heard everything.
“You know where Rachel is?”
She looked at me.
“Yes.”
Mark stepped forward.
“Where?”
Evelyn hesitated.
“She has been living under another name.”
“Which name?”
Evelyn whispered it.
“Caroline Pierce.”
The phone almost slipped from my hand.
I turned toward the hallway.
Caroline was there.
Standing perfectly still.
Her face looked empty.
Then she said:
“That's not true.”
Evelyn walked toward her.
“You knew you'd eventually be exposed.”
Caroline stared at her.
“You're lying.”
“No.”
“You've been working with them.”
“No.”
“Then why were you at Thanksgiving?”
“To watch Hannah.”
“Why?”
“Because your father asked me to.”
Caroline looked at me.
“I didn't know you had found the black ledger.”
“Why did you lie about your identity?”
“Because they were looking for Rachel.”
I frowned.
“You are Rachel.”
She looked at me.
“No.”
Evelyn shook her head.
Caroline's voice broke.
“My name is Caroline Pierce.”
“Then who is Rachel Morgan?”
She took a breath.
“My sister.”
Silence.
“You said there was one daughter.”
Jonathan had said Rachel was my father's daughter.
Caroline shook her head.
“Your father had two.”
I felt dizzy.
“Where is Rachel?”
Caroline looked toward the window.
“She's close.”
“How close?”
“She never left this city.”
I stared at her.
“Then why hasn't she come forward?”
“Because she was raised to believe you'd hurt her.”
“What?”
“Your grandmother taught her that.”
The words landed hard.
“My grandmother raised her?”
“Partly.”
“How?”
Caroline shook her head.
“Through people.”
“That doesn't explain anything.”
“It doesn't have to.”
She walked to the dining room.
“We need the seating chart.”
“Why?”
“Because Rachel sat in the one seat that mattered.”
I followed.
The place cards were still there.
I examined them.
Caroline pointed.
“My seat.”
“What was wrong with it?”
“It was beside Denise.”
I frowned.
“So?”
“She wasn't supposed to sit there.”
“Why?”
“Because Rachel was supposed to sit there.”
I looked at Caroline.
“Then you changed places?”
“No.”
“You did.”
Caroline looked at the empty card.
“I was assigned that seat.”
“By whom?”
“Denise.”
I turned toward my mother-in-law.
She stared at the table.
“I was trying to identify her.”
“You knew she was here?”
“I suspected.”
Caroline continued.
“That's why I looked frightened when you changed the seating chart.”
“Why?”
“Because you accidentally moved Rachel away from me.”
“And that helped?”
“It exposed who was upset.”
I remembered.
Harold had complained.
Denise had panicked.
One of the guests had suddenly left the table.
And Caroline had watched.
“What happened to the original seating chart?”
Denise didn't answer.
“Mom.”
“I burned it.”
“Why?”
“Because there were notes on it.”
“What notes?”
She looked at me.
“Names.”
“Whose?”
“The people who knew about the house.”
I felt my stomach tighten.
“Where did you put them?”
“Somewhere no one would find them.”
I laughed bitterly.
“That phrase is starting to scare me.”
She stood.
“I didn't know it would come to this.”
Caroline looked at her.
“That's not true.”
Denise stared.
“You knew about Rachel.”
“Yes.”
“You knew about the second trust.”
“Yes.”
“You knew Harold wasn't controlling everything.”
“Yes.”
“You knew Evelyn was the real owner.”
“Yes.”
“Then what didn't you know?”
Denise began crying.
“Who was controlling Rachel.”
That silenced everyone.
“Who?”
Denise looked at me.
“Your grandmother.”
Again.
My grandmother.
Dead for thirteen years.
I sat down.
“This can't be real.”
Caroline sat opposite me.
“Your grandmother created the first shell company.”
“For what?”
“Northbridge.”
I stared.
“She founded it?”
“Yes.”
“Then why was Dad running it?”
“Because he tried to dismantle it.”
“And Harold?”
“He was brought in to maintain it.”
“Denise?”
“Forced to cooperate.”
“Evelyn?”
“Hidden because she was the only person Thomas trusted.”
“And Rachel?”
Caroline looked at the photo.
“The replacement heir.”
I stared.
“Replacement for who?”
“For you.”
I couldn't speak.
Caroline continued.
“Your grandmother believed the house would eventually have to leave the family line.”
“So she created another heir?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because the second trust only activates when the original beneficiary refuses control.”
“And that beneficiary was me?”
“Yes.”
Mark understood first.
“She wanted Hannah to refuse.”
“And Rachel would inherit.”
Caroline nodded.
“So the entire thing was designed to make me sign away the house.”
“Yes.”
I looked down.
“And if I refuse?”
Caroline's face changed.
“They don't need you to sign anymore.”
“Why?”
“The transfer was already filed.”
“But it can be challenged.”
“Yes.”
“Then what's the threat?”
Caroline whispered:
“The county recorder received another document this morning.”
“What document?”
She reached into her coat.
A court filing.
I read the first line.
PETITION FOR DECLARATION OF DEATH.
My blood ran cold.
Jonathan Vale.
Someone was asking the court to declare him dead.
And attached to the petition was a sworn statement.
Signed by Evelyn Carter.
I looked up.
Evelyn's face collapsed.
“I didn't sign that.”
The signature looked perfect.
But it wasn't hers.
Someone had forged it.
And at the bottom of the filing was the name of the attorney representing the petitioner.
Martin Pierce.
May you like
Caroline's face went white.
“My father.”
