In Harm's Way (Heroes of Quantico Series, Book 3) (23 page)

At the chime of the doorbell, Jeannette's heart began to thump.
She'd prayed for fortitude to get her through the coming ordeal,
and she hoped the Lord had been listening.

Pulling open the front door, she held out her arms for Bridget
as a distracted Rebecca handed her over.

"I have some magazines and food in the car. Can you take
off her snowsuit?" Without waiting for a reply, Rebecca headed
back to her car at a jog.

Five minutes later, after boots had been removed, coats hung,
and food stowed in the fridge, Rebecca pulled out her cell phone.
"Do you mind if I make a quick call before we visit, Mom? A
reporter cornered me at home, and I want to let Agent Carson
know about it"

"Was there a problem?"

"No. But he saw this" She pulled the photo of the Raggedy
Ann doll out of the stack of magazines and handed it to Jeannette. "I'm assuming he figured out that it's turned up"

Jeannette studied the image. It was Megan's doll, no question
about it. She'd put the original patch on that face three decades
ago. It had been replaced several times through the years, and
new ones had been added on the arms and legs, but the large
one above the right eye had been the first.

The condition of the doll alarmed her, however. And con vinced her she'd made the right decision. She wanted her
grandbaby back safe and sound-not torn and tattered, like
this doll. Putting credence in Rachel Sutton's vibes might be
a long shot, but she couldn't ignore any lead, no matter how
improbable.

"Don't hurry, honey. I'll put Bridget down for her nap so we
can visit"

Ten minutes later, after Bridget had dozed off in the portable crib in the spare bedroom, Jeannette found Rebecca in
the kitchen. Her daughter was staring out the window at the
frozen, lifeless backyard, the weary droop of her shoulders a
silent testimony to the toll these past few weeks had taken on
her usual upbeat spirit.

Jeannette set a dusty shoe box on the kitchen table and wiped
her fingers on her slacks, leaving smudges on the dark fabric.

Turning, Rebecca eyed the yellowed cardboard container.
"What's that?"

"A long story. How about some hot chocolate?" That had
always been Rebecca's comfort drink. Whenever she'd faced a
crisis-being snubbed by a friend, losing out on a part in the
school play, missing the senior prom because of a flu bugJeannette had offered hot chocolate and a shoulder to cry on. In
the past, the home remedy had worked as a soothing balm.

She hoped it still did.

"That would be nice, Mom. Thanks. Do you want me to make
it?"

"No. I could do it in my sleep. Sit down and relax:"

As if that were possible for any of them.

"Did you have trouble putting Bridget down?" Rebecca took
the spot she'd occupied since the day she'd sat at this table in
her high chair.

Jeannette measured instant cocoa powder and filled two mugs
with milk.

"No. I sang her a couple of songs and she went right to
sleep"

"That worked on me too, as I recall. You had a way of making
me feel safe and secure. You were always my protector" Rebecca
blinked and looked down at the table. "I didn't do a very good
job following in your footsteps, did l?"

"Don't ever think that:" Jeannette's tone was fierce as she
moved beside Rebecca and put an arm around her shoulders.
"You're a wonderful mother. What happened wasn't your
fault."

"I shouldn't have left Megan alone"

"You only went to the bathroom. You couldn't have known
someone was hiding in an empty church:"

"I should have been more careful:"

"Look at me, Rebecca." Jeannette waited until her daughter
lifted her chin. For the first time she saw a crack in the strong,
determined face Rebecca had maintained since the kidnapping,
and her throat tightened. "You did nothing wrong. There was
no reason for you to think you were a target. Whoever did this
planned it well."

"It doesn't matter. I should have taken Megan with me" Rebecca pushed her fingers through her hair, distress pinching
her features.

The microwave pinged, and Jeannette removed the mugs
of hot chocolate. She put one in front of Rebecca and settled
into her place with the other. Pulling the yellowed box toward
her, Jeannette prayed for courage. "Mothers always have some
regrets, Rebecca. It goes with the territory, I suppose. Hindsight
is twenty-twenty, as the old saying reminds us" She traced a design in the dust on the box. A heart appeared as she completed
the second curve.

"You shouldn't have any. You were-and are-a wonderful
mother"

"I hope you still feel that way when you leave here today." A
tremor shook Jeannette's voice.

Frowning, Rebecca covered Jeannette's hand with her own.
"Of course I will. Why would you worry about that?"

"Because of what's in here:" Jeannette rested her fingers lightly
on the box.

Rebecca gave the box a look that was both curious and dismissive. "I already know what's in your heart. Whatever is in
that box won't change how I feel about you."

As she lifted the lid, Jeannette prayed that was true. Sifting
through the meager contents, she withdrew a photo and placed
it face down on the table in front of her. "I've had this box for
thirty-five years, Rebecca. For a long time, I told myself that
I was keeping the secret for your sake. That I wanted you to
have a secure childhood unencumbered by uncertainties or
angst.

"But as the years went by and you grew into a confident,
grounded young woman, that excuse didn't hold up anymore.
Your father thought it was a mistake to keep it from you, but I
held back. For selfish reasons. I was afraid if you knew the truth,
you'd stop loving me. And I couldn't risk that. You meant the
world to me, and I was terrified of losing you"

Jeannette turned the photo over and examined it. "After
all these years, I thought the secret was safe. That it wasn't
important for you to know. You have your own family now,
and the past seemed of little consequence. Then the Raggedy
Ann doll led to Rachel Sutton. I can't begin to imagine the
odds against that happening by chance. I have to believe it's a
sign your paths were meant to cross. That you're supposed to
know each other"

Sliding the photo toward her daughter, Jeannette folded her
hands into a white-knuckled knot on the table as her heart lurched
into a staccato rhythm. "Rachel Sutton is on the right"

For several long seconds, Rebecca kept her gaze on her mother's drawn face, fighting the fear sluicing through her. She didn't
want to look at the five-by-seven photo on the table in front
of her. Some instinct told her it would turn her world upside
down. And she'd had enough tumult in the past few weeks to
last a lifetime. Two lifetimes.

Yet the fact that her mother had a photo of the woman who'd
found Megan's doll and had gone to the FBI with her bizarre story
couldn't be mere coincidence, as her mother had noted. She had
to face what was in this picture. Whatever the consequences.

Without touching it, Rebecca looked at the photo. The first
thing she noticed was the brand-new Raggedy Ann doll. A seated
toddler, with curly copper hair and a quarter-sized birthmark
on her right temple, was clutching it.

She moved on to the rest of the picture. In the center, a young
woman with long auburn hair parted in the middle smiled at
the camera. A filigree gold cross hung around her neck. She
had one arm around the child holding the doll-and the other
around the child's mirror image on her other side.

Identical twins.

Except for the birthmark, it was impossible to tell the two
little girls apart.

But everyone in the photo was a stranger to Rebecca.

Puzzled, she looked back at her mother. "I don't understand.
How do you know these people?"

"That's your Raggedy Ann doll, Rebecca"

She examined the photo again. "But ... I don't have a birthmark"

"No. But your sister did"

The world tilted. She had a sister? Rachel Sutton, the woman
who'd found the doll, was her sister?

But that would mean ... the woman in the photo must
be...

"That's your birth mother, Rebecca. Your dad and I adopted
you a month after that photo was taken"

Shock rippled through Rebecca. "That ... can't be. I've seen
my birth certificate"

"When a child is adopted, the birth certificate is amended
by court order so it bears the surname of the adoptive parents.
The original certificate is sealed by the court"

Jeannette leaned over and took Rebecca's cold hand in hers.
"I'm sorry, honey. I should have told you long ago. But in the
beginning, I didn't want you to have to wonder who you were
or if you were loved. Your dad and I couldn't have loved you
more if we'd been your birth parents. Later, I was afraid if you
knew, you wouldn't think of me as your mother anymore. My
ego couldn't handle the competition. I'm so sorry, honey."

A barrage of questions clamored for answers as Rebecca
tried to process her mother's bombshell. "What was my birth
mother's name?"

"Michelle Sutton:"

"Who was my father?"

"He wasn't listed on the birth certificate:"

"Is Rebecca my original name?"

"Yes"

"What happened to her. To ... Michelle" Rebecca stared at
the young woman in the photo, feeling numb.

"She was killed in a car accident when you were nine months
old. We learned that she was an unwed mother who had been
disowned by her family. There was no one to take you after she
died. Your dad and I had been on a wait list for years for an
infant adoption. We wanted a newborn, but the agency called
us about you, and after one look we knew you were meant to
be our daughter."

"Why didn't you take Rachel too?"

"She was hurt very badly in the accident, Rebecca. Your dad
and I were older, and we didn't think we could cope with two
toddlers, one of whom would need ongoing medical care-if
she survived. Her side of the car took the brunt of the impact.
You suffered only minor injuries"

"But ... if she's my identical twin, why don't we look alike?
The agent from St. Louis would have noticed if there was a
strong resemblance:"

"She had major facial injuries that required reconstructive
surgery. I assume that could dramatically alter a person's appearance."

Rebecca touched the photo. `And this is Megan's Raggedy
Ann doll:'

"Yes"

"Yet Rachel is holding it in the picture. How did I end up
with it?"

"It was found in the car after the accident. It must have flown
out of Rachel's hands at the time of impact. We didn't know who
it belonged to, so the authorities gave it to me. I didn't discover
until the pictures were forwarded to us that it belonged to your
sister. But you never let it out of your sight. Perhaps it reminded
you of her."

"So I have an identical twin:" Rebecca spoke the words, hoping
that if she gave voice to them the reality would sink in.

"Yes. And identical twins are linked in ways science is still
trying to understand. For example, you suffered from headaches
when you were young, and the doctor could never find a physiological reason for them. I often wondered if it had something
to do with your sister's facial injuries:"

"Do you think this ... link ... is why Rachel has had a feeling
of uneasiness since Megan was taken?"

"I think there could be a connection" Jeannette slid the box toward Rebecca. "This is everything the agency sent to me. Your
mother had very little worth keeping. I selected one photo of
your mother for Rachel, and gave her the cross in that picture
as well. With all of the medical problems she faced, I thought
she needed the hope it represented. There's not much in here
... mostly photos, a few personal items, a couple of pieces of
costume jewelry."

Rebecca sifted through the items, dazed.

"Are you okay, honey?" Jeannette placed a tentative hand on
her arm.

"I don't know"

"Please don't hold this against me:" Jeannette's voice broke.
"I've always wanted what's best for you. I'm so sorry I let my
own insecurity stop me from sharing information you had a
right to know"

"It's okay, Mom:" Rebecca squeezed her hand, not certain
that was true, yet feeling compelled to offer a reassurance to
the only mother she'd ever known. A woman who had earned
the title in every way. "I just ... need to think this through. And
I want to meet my sister"

"I understand that. Why don't you ask the FBI agent from St.
Louis to set that up for you? And maybe if you see her, she'll have
other feelings that could help the authorities locate Megan"

"Do you think that's possible?" The fading ember of hope in
Rebecca's heart flared.

"I don't know what to think. But I wouldn't want to leave one
stone unturned."

"I agree. I'll give the agent a call:" Rebecca wrapped her hands
around the mug of hot chocolate, trapping in her palms the
residual warmth that remained in the cooling beverage. "You
know, I've been praying for a reunion. But I expected it to be
with a daughter, not a sister"