Chương 11
“She said names matter because sometimes they’re the only thing people let you keep.”
The laugh disappeared.
“Anything else?”
Lucy looked down at the necklace.
“She said if anybody ever told me I had another name, I should call you first.”
Claire’s stomach tightened.
“You never told me that.”
“You never asked.”
“What other name?”
“She didn’t say.”
“Did she ever talk about Marianne?”
“Who?”
“Never mind.”
Lucy watched her mother carefully.
“Am I in trouble?”
“No.”
“Are you?”
Claire opened her mouth and found nothing useful.
“Maybe.”
Lucy gave a small nod.
“That seems more likely.”
Downstairs, Nathan had spread Evelyn’s documents across the dining table while Daniel stood by the kitchen counter reading the hospital discharge forms.
He looked up when Claire entered.
“Postpartum.”
“Yes.”
“So Marianne had a child.”
“Apparently.”
“And your mother was hospitalized at the same time.”
“Yes.”
Daniel tapped the page.
“Where is your infant record?”
“We haven’t found one.”
“Then find it before deciding somebody switched babies.”
Claire looked at him.
“I haven’t decided that.”
“You’re halfway there.”
“A woman who disappeared six years ago just came to our house and said exactly that.”
“A woman who may have reasons to lie.”
“Mom warned us about her.”
“Your mother also lied to us for years.”
The room went still.
Nathan pretended to inspect a receipt.
Claire said, “You don’t get to use that when it’s convenient.”
“I’m not using anything.”
“You lied too.”
“I know.”
“Do you?”
Daniel’s face changed.
Nathan quietly gathered several papers into a stack.
“I’m going to pretend the kitchen needs me.”
“No,” Claire said.
Daniel said, “Stay.”
Nathan sighed.
“Great.”
Claire folded her arms.
“What aren’t you telling me now?”
Daniel looked toward the stairs.
Then he took his phone from his pocket.
“Your mother called me three weeks before she died.”
Claire felt the night tilt again.
“What did she want?”
“She asked me to destroy Lucy’s original birth certificate.”
Nathan stopped moving.
Claire stared at her husband.
“And did you?”
Daniel did not answer immediately.
Claire heard the refrigerator compressor kick on behind him, an absurdly ordinary mechanical hum that seemed to fill the entire kitchen.
“Did you?”
“No.”
The word landed without relief.
“Why not?”
“Because she was asking me to destroy a legal document.”
“That’s why?”
“That and the fact that your mother sounded terrified.”
Nathan leaned against the table.
“What exactly did she say?”
Daniel looked at Claire instead.
“She called while you were at work.”
“Of course she did.”
“She asked whether I knew where we kept Lucy’s original birth certificate.”
“And you said?”
“I asked why.”
Claire waited.
Daniel rubbed the side of his thumb against the phone case.
“She said there had been a mistake.”
“What mistake?”
“She wouldn’t tell me.”
Nathan said, “Convenient.”
Daniel ignored him.
“She said if anyone ever questioned Lucy’s identity, the original certificate could be used to hurt her.”
Claire stared at him.
“And you waited three weeks after my mother died to mention this?”
“I waited because it sounded insane.”
“She was dying.”
“She was also Evelyn.”
Claire flinched.
Daniel saw it and regretted the sentence before it finished existing between them.
Nathan straightened.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means your mother could make asking for a napkin sound like instructions for disposing of a body.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“It’s the answer I have.”
Claire walked to the cabinet beside the refrigerator and opened the drawer where they kept passports, insurance cards, expired warranties, and documents important enough to preserve but apparently not important enough to organize.
Daniel moved toward her.
“It isn’t there.”
She turned.
“You checked?”
“After the call.”
“And?”
“It was gone.”
Claire pulled the drawer anyway.
Pens rolled forward.
A packet of batteries caught beneath a folder.
She emptied everything onto the counter with enough force that an old calculator bounced onto the floor.
Nathan bent to pick it up.
“Claire.”
“Don’t.”
She found her marriage certificate, Lucy’s Social Security card, the deed from the refinancing, three copies of Daniel’s passport photograph, and a yellow vaccination booklet from a trip they had canceled eight years ago.
No birth certificate.
“Where did you last see it?”
Daniel said, “I don’t know.”
“You don’t know.”
“No.”
“You checked three weeks ago and didn’t tell me it was missing.”
“I thought maybe you moved it.”
“You could have asked.”
“Yes.”
“But you didn’t.”
“No.”
Nathan set the calculator on the counter.
“Was Evelyn ever alone in the house?”
Daniel gave him a look.
“She was Claire’s mother.”
“That wasn’t my question.”
“Yes, Nathan, she was alone here sometimes.”
“When?”
“I don’t maintain a visitation ledger.”
Claire shut the drawer.
“Mom had a key.”
Daniel’s eyes moved toward the sandwich bag on the counter.
For a moment nobody said anything.
Then Nathan said, “Apparently keys are becoming a family tradition.”
Claire picked up the bag containing A-214.
“St. Gabriel’s first.”
Daniel stared at her.
“You’re still going?”
“Yes.”
“Tonight?”
“Yes.”
“After this?”
“Especially after this.”
Daniel laughed once, without humor.
“You have a daughter upstairs.”
“I’m aware.”
“Are you?”
Claire turned so quickly that Nathan stepped between them without quite meaning to.
Daniel’s face hardened.
“Don’t do that.”
“Do what?”
“Use Lucy to make me stay here because you’re angry.”
“I’m using Lucy because a woman your dead mother warned you about came to our front door asking whether she was home.”
“And I’m trying to find out why.”
“You’re running toward the person who did it.”
“I’m going to Margaret.”
“You don’t know who Margaret is anymore.”
Claire opened her mouth.
Nathan interrupted.
“I’ll go alone.”
Both of them looked at him.
He shrugged.
“You stay with Lucy, I meet Margaret, I call you.”
“No,” Claire said.
“Why?”
“Because Mom told me to use the key.”
“The key is here.”
“The other key.”
Daniel looked between them.
“There’s another key?”
Nathan sighed.
“Try to keep up.”
“Try being less unbearable.”
“I’m under stress.”
May you like
“You were unbearable at Thanksgiving.”
“That was cranberry-related.”
