Chương 3
“Oh, God.”
Daniel stepped closer.
Claire raised one hand to keep him back.
“What is going on?”
“Is there a sponsor listed?”
“The name was erased.”
“Completely?”
“Almost.”
Margaret stopped breathing for a second.
Then she said, “Do not throw that document away.”
“I wasn’t planning to.”
“Do not give it to anyone.”
Claire looked at Daniel.
He was staring at the phone as if he could force himself through it.
“Why?”
“I can’t discuss this properly over the phone.”
“You called me.”
“I know.”
“Then discuss it improperly.”
“Mrs. Mercer—”
“Claire.”
“All right, Claire.”
Margaret’s voice softened, which made Claire distrust her immediately.
“There was a baptism recorded here under your daughter’s name.”
Daniel closed his eyes.
Claire forgot the next breath.
“That’s impossible.”
“I understand why you’d say that.”
“No, you don’t.”
Her voice had risen, and she lowered it before Lucy heard.
“I gave birth to Lucy in May, and she was with me every day after I brought her home.”
“I’m not saying she wasn’t.”
“Then who baptized her?”
“I don’t know.”
“Who brought her there?”
Margaret hesitated.
Claire gripped the edge of the counter.
“Who?”
“The register doesn’t say.”
“That makes no sense.”
“It should say.”
Claire stared at the scraped white patch on the certificate.
“Was there a sponsor?”
“Yes.”
“Who?”
“I need to verify something first.”
“You already verified enough to drive back to your office after hours.”
Daniel whispered, “Claire.”
She ignored him.
“Tell me the name.”
“I can’t yet.”
“Can’t or won’t?”
Margaret’s breathing had steadied.
“When I pulled the original register tonight, I found that someone altered the entry.”
Claire looked down at the certificate.
“Altered how?”
“The father’s name was changed.”
Daniel made a small sound behind her.
Claire turned.
He had one hand braced against the kitchen table.
Margaret continued, “And the sponsor’s name was covered over in the register, not just on whatever was sent to you.”
Claire’s mouth went dry.
“Can you recover it?”
“I think so.”
“Then do it.”
“I’m trying.”
A door opened upstairs.
Lucy called, “Mom, where are the purple pajamas?”
“In the dryer, honey.”
“I looked.”
“Bottom drawer.”
“That’s not the dryer.”
“The dresser, Lucy.”
A long, offended silence followed.
“Okay.”
Claire pressed two fingers against her forehead.
Margaret said quietly, “Is your daughter there?”
“Yes.”
“Then I’m going to ask you one question, and I need you not to react until you’re somewhere private.”
Daniel was watching her.
Claire said, “Ask.”
“Did your mother ever use the name Marianne Vale?”
Claire’s hand slipped from the counter.
For a moment she heard only the refrigerator and Lucy opening drawers upstairs.
“My mother’s name was Evelyn.”
“I understand.”
“No, you apparently don’t.”
“Claire, the sponsor’s first name is still visible in our register.”
Claire could feel Daniel watching her, waiting.
She forced her voice lower.
“What does it say?”
“Marianne.”
“That could be anybody.”
“Yes.”
“But you asked about my mother.”
Another silence.
Then Margaret said, “Because Marianne Vale was my sister.”
Claire stopped looking at Daniel.
She stared instead at the white envelope, at Claire-bear written across it in a hand she did not recognize.
“My sister disappeared six years ago,” Margaret said.
“Three days after the date on your daughter’s baptism record.”
Claire did not answer immediately.
The name Marianne had entered the kitchen like a stranger who somehow knew where they kept the silverware.
On the phone, Margaret said, “Are you still there?”
“Yes.”
Daniel took another step toward Claire, but she turned away from him and walked into the laundry room, pulling the door nearly shut behind her.
“What do you mean, disappeared?”
“She left her apartment and never came back.”
“People leave.”
“My sister didn’t.”
Margaret’s certainty carried the exhaustion of an argument repeated too many times.
“She had a job at a pediatric dental office, two cats she treated like children, and a landlord she fought with every month about the washing machines.”
“She was thirty-two years old and called me every Sunday night even when we were angry at each other.”
“Then one Tuesday she didn’t show up for work.”
“Her car was found at a commuter lot two days later.”
Claire leaned against the dryer.
A basket of clean clothes sat on top of it, and one of Lucy’s pink socks had caught against the rough edge of the plastic basket.
“Was she reported missing?”
“Of course.”
“Did the police find anything?”
“No.”
“What does any of this have to do with my mother?”
“That’s what I’m trying to determine.”
“You asked me whether Evelyn used Marianne’s name.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Margaret hesitated.
“When I found the baptism entry, I recognized my sister’s name.”
“You said the last name was covered.”
“It was.”
“Then you recognized Marianne.”
“I recognized something else.”
Claire closed her eyes.
“What?”
“The handwriting.”
A laugh escaped Claire before she could stop it.
It was short and ugly.
“You recognize your sister’s handwriting from a church register six years later?”
“She filled out half my Christmas cards because my handwriting is terrible.”
“That doesn’t make her the person who signed it.”
“No.”
“Then what are you saying?”
“I’m saying I think Marianne was at St. Gabriel’s when that baptism was recorded.”
Claire pressed her palm against the dryer lid.
“And somehow you got from that to my dead mother.”
“I didn’t.”
“You asked about her.”
“Because your voicemail gave your name.”
“My name is Mercer.”
“I know.”
“Then explain it.”
Margaret inhaled slowly.
“When I pulled the old register, I also checked the parish appointment book.”
Claire waited.
“There was a contact number written beside the baptism appointment.”
“So?”
“I called it.”
The dryer seemed to tilt beneath Claire’s hand.
“Tonight?”
“Yes.”
“Who answered?”
“Nobody.”
“Then why does it matter?”
“The voicemail greeting is still active.”
Margaret’s voice dropped.
“It says Evelyn Mercer.”
Claire opened the laundry-room door.
Daniel was standing exactly where she had left him.
His phone was no longer on the counter.
May you like
“Give me the number,” Claire said.
“I don’t think you should call it yet.”
