Chapter 8 - The Woman Who Knew the Truth
Detective Mitchell ordered a statewide search for Sophia.
The ambulance had been spotted near an industrial district, but it disappeared from the cameras before reaching the highway.
We had no reliable location.
I wanted to tear the city apart looking for her.
Instead, I followed the evidence.
We returned to Richard's former workshop with a warrant.
The building stood behind an old commercial property on the edge of town.
Inside, everything was covered in dust.
A workbench occupied the center of the room.
On the wall hung an old photograph of Sophia as a teenager.
Beside it was another photograph.
A woman holding a newborn baby.
The woman was Sophia's mother.
I recognized her from our wedding album.
But the baby wasn't Sophia.
The photograph was dated eighteen months before Sophia's birth certificate.
Detective Mitchell examined the back.
A name was written there.
Evelyn Price.
Samuel's surname.
We searched the workshop.
Behind a loose wooden panel, we found a small music box.
Inside was a tiny recorder.
The device was damaged, but a technician believed the recording could be recovered.
We also found an old envelope containing a hospital wristband.
The name on it was Samuel Price.
The date matched the year Sophia was born.
I looked at Mitchell.
“What's going on?”
She didn't answer.
Instead, she contacted the hospital where Sophia had been delivered.
The original records were stored in an archive.
A court order would take time.
But there was another lead.
Margaret.
She arrived at the workshop carrying an old family album.
When she saw the photograph of Evelyn Price, she sat down.
“I knew this day would come.”
I stared at her.
“What do you know?”
She explained that Evelyn had worked for my father.
She had become pregnant after a relationship with a man who was never publicly identified.
Richard had offered to help her.
When Evelyn died, Richard took responsibility for Sophia.
But he never legally adopted her.
“Why did he raise her as his daughter?”
Margaret shook her head.
“I don't know.”
I looked at the photograph again.
Then something occurred to me.
“Does Sophia know?”
Margaret nodded.
“She found out years ago.”
“Why didn't she tell me?”
“Because she was afraid you'd see her differently.”
I closed my eyes.
That wasn't an answer I could accept.
Before I could question Margaret further, Mitchell's phone rang.
The audio technician had recovered part of the recording.
We gathered around the laptop.
Static filled the room.
Then Richard's voice emerged.
“Your father is becoming a problem.”
Daniel replied:
“He knows about the transfers.”
Richard:
“Then make sure he can't talk.”
A third voice entered.
A woman's voice.
“You promised the child would be protected.”
Richard answered:
“She'll be protected as long as you cooperate.”
The recording ended.
I stared at the screen.
“Who was that woman?”
Margaret looked pale.
“Evelyn.”
The audio technician replayed the final section.
This time, another sentence became clear.
Daniel:
“And what about the boy?”
Richard:
“The boy is already taken care of.”
I felt sick.
Noah.
My brother.
Richard had been discussing his disappearance years before it happened.
Then Mitchell's phone rang again.
A patrol officer had found Richard's Cadillac abandoned outside a warehouse.
The vehicle was empty.
But the trunk contained bloodstained medical restraints.
And a small hospital blanket.
I gripped the edge of the workbench.
“She's alive.”
Mitchell nodded.
“We're treating this as an active kidnapping.”
Then Margaret began crying.
“Ethan, there's something I never told you.”
I turned.
“What?”
She looked at the photograph of Evelyn.
“Your father was the one who asked Richard to raise Sophia.”
I stared at her.
“Why would my father do that?”
Margaret wiped her eyes.
“Because Sophia was his daughter.”
The room fell silent.
I looked at the photograph.
Then at the old hospital wristband.
Sophia wasn't Richard's biological daughter.
She was my father's.
Which meant she and I shared the same father.
My wife was my half sister.
I stumbled backward.
“No.”
Margaret reached for me.
“Ethan—”
“No!”
I couldn't breathe.
All the years we'd spent together.
Our marriage.
Our child.
Everything suddenly seemed impossible.
Then Detective Mitchell spoke.
“There's one more thing.”
She held up the hospital wristband.
It wasn't Sophia's.
It belonged to a newborn boy.
The date was the same day Sophia had been born.
And the name written on the back was:
NOAH WALKER.
I looked at Margaret.
She began sobbing.
“Your father had twins,” she whispered.
“One boy and one girl.”
May you like
And suddenly, I understood why Richard had spent so many years keeping the two of us apart.
But if Sophia was my sister, who had we really been protecting all these years?
