Chapter 8 - JONATHAN
Police raided the location Celeste provided.
An underground storage facility beneath a shuttered pharmaceutical plant.
They found Jonathan.
Barely conscious.
Dehydrated.
Bruised.
Two cracked ribs.
A concussion.
But alive.
Rachel insisted on seeing him.
When Jonathan was wheeled into her hospital room, eight years of pain disappeared for several seconds.
Rachel touched his face.
“You idiot.”
Jonathan smiled weakly.
“You married one.”
Rachel laughed through tears.
“You never actually married me.”
“I was planning to correct that.”
Then Emma appeared in the doorway.
Jonathan went still.
Rachel looked at her daughter.
Emma stared at the man she had believed was only her mother’s friend.
Jonathan tried sitting upright.
Pain stopped him.
“Emma.”
She walked slowly toward him.
“Grandma Evelyn says you’re my daddy.”
Jonathan closed his eyes.
“Yes.”
“You lied.”
“Yes.”
Rachel started to speak.
Emma raised her hand.
“I want him to answer.”
Jonathan nodded.
“You’re right.”
“Why?”
“Because I was afraid.”
“Grown-ups aren’t supposed to be afraid.”
A sad smile touched his face.
“We’re afraid all the time.”
Emma considered that.
“You knew me before I knew you.”
“Yes.”
“Did you know my birthday?”
“May nineteenth.”
“My favorite food?”
“Pancakes with too much syrup.”
“My favorite animal?”
“Elephants.”
Emma’s eyes filled.
“My teacher’s name?”
“Mrs. Harper.”
“Best friend?”
“Lucy Martinez.”
Rachel covered her mouth.
Jonathan had memorized everything.
Emma whispered—
“You really looked for me?”
“Every day.”
She took one more step.
Then another.
Jonathan extended his hand but did not touch her.
Emma made the choice.
She placed her bandaged hand in his.
Jonathan broke.
His head dropped.
His shoulders shook.
Emma watched him.
Then climbed carefully onto the edge of the bed.
“You cry a lot.”
Jonathan laughed.
“I’ve been having a difficult week.”
Emma leaned against him.
Only slightly.
But it was enough.
Then she whispered—
“I pushed the babies really far.”
Jonathan wrapped one arm around her.
“I know.”
“My feet hurt.”
“I know.”
“I thought they were going to die.”
Jonathan closed his eyes.
“You saved them.”
Emma began crying again.
This time, Jonathan held her.
Across the room, Rebecca watched Rachel.
Rachel was crying too.
For one quiet moment, the mystery disappeared.
They were simply a family.
Then Rebecca’s phone rang.
She answered.
Her expression changed immediately.
“What?”
Jonathan looked at her.
Rebecca lowered the phone.
“Charles Hayes is gone.”
Jonathan’s face hardened.
“Gone where?”
“Nobody knows.”
Then another officer entered.
“We found something in Charles’s house.”
Rebecca looked at him.
“What?”
“A passport.”
“Whose?”
The officer hesitated.
“Rachel’s.”
Issued eight years earlier.
With a photograph Rachel had never taken.
And travel stamps proving she had supposedly left the country voluntarily.
Someone had spent years building evidence that Rachel had abandoned Jonathan.
The signature authorizing the passport application belonged to one person.
May you like
Jonathan Hayes.
Except Jonathan had never signed it.
