Chapter 11 - REBECCARebecca was alive.
She stood beneath a broken stained-glass window wearing a gray coat.
Her hair had gone mostly silver.
Burn scars covered her left hand and climbed toward her wrist.
Emma ran to her.
Rebecca caught her.
They collapsed into each other.
No words.
Just crying.
I turned away.
Some reunions were too sacred for witnesses.
Marcus waited outside as promised.
Eventually Rebecca looked at me.
“Caroline.”
I stepped closer.
“You knew I was alive.”
“Yes.”
“Why didn’t you find me?”
“I tried.”
“That seems to be everyone’s favorite sentence.”
She accepted the anger.
“I woke up three weeks after the fire in a private clinic.”
“Where?”
“Mexico.”
My stomach tightened.
“Vale.”
She nodded.
“He arranged it.”
“Why keep you alive?”
“He wanted the documents.”
“Did you have them?”
“No.”
“He believed me eventually.”
“So he let you go?”
Rebecca laughed bitterly.
“No.”
She looked at Emma.
“I escaped two years later.”
Emma stared at her.
“You were alive all that time?”
Rebecca cried.
“I thought they were watching you.”
“Who?”
“Vale. Victor. Douglas. Anyone.”
“You could have called me.”
“I did once.”
“When?”
“Three years ago.”
Emma shook her head.
“I never got it.”
Rebecca looked toward me.
“Someone answered.”
“Who?”
“A man.”
Marcus entered despite instructions.
“Did you recognize him?”
Rebecca studied him.
“No.”
Marcus showed her photographs.
Victor.
Dad.
Vale.
Grant.
Rebecca pointed to none.
Then Marcus displayed one more.
The former Mercer security chief.
Adam Crane.
Rebecca froze.
“Him.”
I remembered Crane.
He had vanished after the fire.
Officially relocated overseas.
Marcus’s expression hardened.
“He worked for Vale.”
Rebecca nodded.
“He was at the clinic.”
The puzzle tightened.
Vale had not acted alone.
“Where is Crane now?”
Marcus checked his phone.
“Last known address Arizona.”
Rebecca shook her head.
“He’s here.”
“How do you know?”
“Because he found me yesterday.”
Emma gripped her hand.
“What?”
“He told me Thomas was dead.”
“Did Crane kill him?”
Rebecca looked frightened.
“I think so.”
A sound came from the back of the church.
Metal scraping.
Marcus reached for his weapon.
“Down!”
A gunshot shattered the stained glass.
We dropped.
Emma screamed.
Marcus fired toward the rear doorway.
A shadow disappeared.
Police rushed in.
Nobody was hit.
On the floor where Rebecca had been standing lay a bullet.
Marcus picked it up carefully.
“This was a warning.”
Rebecca stared toward the doorway.
“No.”
She shook her head.
“Crane doesn’t warn people.”
Then she looked at me.
“He misses on purpose only when he wants you to follow him.”
My blood chilled.
“Follow him where?”
May you like
Rebecca’s face went white.
“The hospital where Eleanor died.”
