Chapter 7 - The Girl Who Was Never Supposed to Exist
"We have to find Emma before she learns what Laura did to her real mother."
Detective Martinez's words carried across the storage complex.
Emma felt as though someone had driven a blade through the center of everything she believed.
Beside her, Ms. Miller grabbed her arm.
"Don't move."
Emma barely heard her.
Across the parking lot, Martinez and Sarah Whitmore stood beside the black SUV. Neither had noticed them behind the row of storage units.
Sarah looked older than the photograph from 2009, of course. Her brown hair was shorter now, streaked faintly with gray. But the resemblance Emma had thought she saw in the old newspaper clipping was still there.
The eyes.
The shape of her face.
The narrow chin.
Was it real?
Or had Emma wanted it to be real?
The anonymous caller had said Sarah wasn't her mother.
Now Martinez had referred to Emma's "real mother."
And apparently Laura had done something to her.
Emma stepped forward.
Ms. Miller pulled her back.
"Wait."
"For what?"
"We need to hear them."
Emma hated the idea.
She hated hiding.
She hated listening to adults discuss her life as though she were evidence in a case.
But Ms. Miller was right.
They moved closer along the rear of the storage building.
Sarah's voice became audible.
"Laura should have told her years ago."
Martinez shook his head.
"She was trying to protect her."
"That's what everyone says when they decide a child doesn't deserve the truth."
Emma flinched.
Martinez lowered his voice.
"Sarah, you know what would have happened."
"Yes."
"Then stop pretending Laura had a simple choice."
Sarah laughed bitterly.
"Simple? No. But she had seventeen years."
"What was she supposed to say? 'Happy birthday, Emma. By the way, half your identity was manufactured because powerful people were trying to erase you'?"
Emma's stomach tightened.
Erase her?
Sarah turned away.
"Laura made me promise."
"Laura made everyone promise."
"And look where that got us."
Martinez's phone rang.
He looked at the screen.
"We need to go."
"What about Mercer?"
"If he's alive, we'll find him."
Sarah froze.
"If?"
Martinez didn't answer.
They entered the storage office.
Emma waited until the door closed.
Then she stepped out.
"I'm done."
Ms. Miller followed.
"Emma."
"No more hiding."
"What are you going to do?"
"Open that unit."
"We don't have a key."
Emma looked toward Martinez's SUV.
"No."
Ms. Miller immediately understood.
"Absolutely not."
"His keys are probably inside the office with him."
"Emma, stealing from a police detective is a terrible idea."
"So is selling babies, altering identities, covering up deaths, and lying to a missing girl's daughter."
"That doesn't make stealing smart."
Emma looked at her.
"I'm not trying to be smart anymore."
She walked toward the office.
Ms. Miller muttered something under her breath and followed.
But before they reached the entrance, Martinez and Sarah emerged again.
Emma had nowhere to hide.
Martinez stopped.
Sarah stopped beside him.
For several seconds, nobody spoke.
Then Martinez closed his eyes.
"Damn it."
Emma stared at him.
"Is that all you have to say?"
"Emma—"
"Who's my mother?"
Sarah's face changed.
Martinez stepped forward.
"Not here."
"Here."
"We need somewhere secure."
"Every time someone tells me something is for my protection, I find out they've been lying."
Martinez glanced at Ms. Miller.
"You brought her here?"
"She found the address."
"That wasn't my question."
Emma stepped between them.
"Don't blame her. Answer me."
Martinez looked tired.
"Sarah Whitmore isn't your biological mother."
Emma looked at Sarah.
Sarah's eyes were wet.
"Then why was my birth connected to her?"
Sarah answered this time.
"Because we were in the same hospital."
"We?"
"I had a daughter."
"On August fourteenth."
"Yes."
"And she disappeared."
Sarah nodded.
Emma swallowed.
"Was I that baby?"
"No."
The answer was immediate.
Certain.
Emma almost felt disappointed.
Then ashamed for feeling it.
"What happened to her?"
Sarah's face tightened.
"I don't know."
Martinez said quietly, "That's part of what Laura was trying to uncover."
Emma stared at him.
"And me?"
Martinez looked toward the storage unit.
"Your case was different."
"How?"
"Because there is no record of you being born at St. Catherine."
Emma stopped.
"What?"
"We searched every delivery record."
"But the intake photograph—"
"Was taken there."
"So I was there."
"Yes."
"But I wasn't born there."
"Apparently not."
"Then where?"
"We don't know."
Emma laughed.
The sound came out broken.
"So nobody knows where I was born?"
Sarah stepped closer.
"Laura tried."
Emma turned on her.
"How do you know Laura?"
Sarah hesitated.
"She found me six years ago."
"The same year Maya Collins died."
Sarah nodded.
"Laura discovered my daughter's missing-infant case while investigating old foundation files. She contacted me."
"What did she tell you?"
"That the same people connected to my daughter's disappearance were connected to you."
Emma felt cold.
"Who?"
"Victoria Harrington's father."
Emma stared.
"Her father?"
"Charles Harrington."
The name was familiar.
A bronze plaque in Westbridge's library.
**THE CHARLES HARRINGTON EDUCATION WING**
A respected philanthropist.
Dead for nearly a decade.
Sarah continued.
"Charles funded the private placement program."
"So Victoria inherited it?"
"Part of it."
"Why would they sell babies through a school foundation?"
Martinez answered.
"They didn't start with the school. The foundation was simply one part of a larger network."
"How large?"
"We don't know."
"Stop saying that!"
Emma's voice echoed across the storage complex.
"You all keep telling me you don't know. My mother disappeared because she knew. Maya Collins died because she knew. Rebecca Miller died because she knew. And now you're telling me nobody knows anything?"
Martinez looked at her for a long moment.
"That's why we need what's inside Mercer's unit."
Emma folded her arms.
"You mean the unit you apparently have access to?"
He didn't answer.
"Do you have a key?"
"Yes."
"Then open it."
"Emma—"
"Open it."
Martinez finally removed a key from his pocket.
---
Unit 42 smelled of dust and old paper.
The photographs Emma had seen through the ventilation opening covered one wall.
Seeing them directly was worse.
There were hundreds.
Not just Emma.
Students.
Teachers.
Parents.
Hospital employees.
Police officers.
Politicians.
Judges.
Emma approached the photographs of herself.
Age eleven.
Age thirteen.
Age fifteen.
One showed her walking beside Laura.
Another showed Emma asleep against a bus window.
"Why was Mercer watching me for years?"
Nobody answered.
Then Sarah noticed something.
"Rafael."
She pointed toward a metal cabinet.
A strip of evidence tape sealed the doors.
Not police tape.
Private security tape.
Martinez broke it.
Inside were folders arranged by number.
1.
2.
3.
All the way through 23.
Emma's heart accelerated.
She found 17.
Her number.
She pulled it out.
"Wait."
Martinez reached toward her.
Emma stepped away.
"No."
"Emma, we don't know what's inside."
"Exactly."
She opened it.
The first document was a medical report.
Most identifying information had been removed.
**Female infant. Estimated age: 6-10 days.**
Estimated.
Not date of birth.
Another line:
**Minor bruising left shoulder. Dehydration. No congenital abnormalities identified.**
Emma turned the page.
A photograph.
A newborn wrapped in a white blanket.
On her left shoulder was a small dark birthmark.
Emma instinctively touched the same place on her own body.
She had that mark.
This was her.
Another document.
**Recovered: August 14, 2009.**
Recovered.
Emma looked at Martinez.
"Recovered from where?"
He shook his head.
The next page answered.
**Location: Harrington Property 6C.**
Sarah gasped.
"What is Property 6C?"
Martinez's expression hardened.
"I've heard that designation."
"Where?"
"Old investigation."
"What investigation?"
He didn't answer.
Emma kept reading.
**Transfer suspended following unexpected law-enforcement activity.**
Then:
**Temporary custodian: L. Bennett.**
Laura.
Emma turned another page.
A handwritten note appeared.
**Child must not be returned to original location. C.H. insists all records be destroyed.**
C.H.
Charles Harrington.
Emma's mouth went dry.
"Why did he want my records destroyed?"
No one knew.
The next page contained a DNA profile.
But the parental fields were blank.
Below them:
**Potential familial match located. Access restricted.**
"Can we identify the match?" Emma asked.
Martinez took the page.
"Possibly."
"How long?"
"If the original database entry still exists, maybe a few days."
"I don't have a few days."
Emma continued searching.
Near the back of the folder was a photograph of Laura with Richard Mercer.
They were sitting inside a car.
The date was only three weeks after Emma had supposedly become Laura's daughter.
On the back Mercer had written:
**She refuses to surrender Intake 17. Claims Harrington lied about origin.**
Emma stared at it.
"Mercer knew Mom from the beginning."
Ms. Miller whispered, "Yes."
"And you knew Mercer."
Ms. Miller looked down.
Emma's anger returned.
"How much else haven't you told me?"
"Emma—"
A loud metallic bang came from outside.
Everyone froze.
Martinez drew his weapon.
"Stay here."
He moved toward the entrance.
Another bang.
Then smoke began curling beneath the storage door.
"Fire!" Sarah shouted.
Martinez grabbed the handle.
It wouldn't move.
Someone had locked them inside.
Flames appeared beneath the neighboring wall.
"Back!"
Martinez fired at the lock.
Once.
Twice.
The mechanism shattered.
He kicked the door open.
Smoke poured inside.
"Move!"
They ran.
By the time they reached the parking lot, flames were spreading across three units.
Unit 42 was burning.
Evidence disappeared behind orange fire.
Martinez called emergency services.
Emma looked around wildly.
Someone had done this deliberately.
Then she saw movement beyond the fence.
A man.
Watching.
Gray hair.
Dark jacket.
He turned away.
Emma ran.
"Emma!"
She ignored Martinez.
The man disappeared around the corner.
Emma followed into an alley.
Empty.
Then a voice behind her said:
"You look like her."
Emma spun around.
The man stood ten feet away.
He looked exhausted.
Older than the photographs.
But she recognized him.
Richard Mercer.
"You're alive."
"For now."
Emma backed away.
"Did you start the fire?"
"No."
"Then who did?"
"If I knew, I wouldn't be standing in an alley."
"Why were you watching me?"
Mercer looked at her carefully.
"Because Laura asked me to."
"You're lying."
"Sometimes."
"Did you kill Maya Collins?"
Pain crossed his face.
"No."
"Were you following her?"
"Yes."
"Did your actions cause her crash?"
He looked away.
"Maybe."
Emma hated him immediately.
"Where is my mother?"
Mercer looked back at her.
"I don't know."
"Everyone says that."
"Because Laura stopped trusting everyone."
"You knew her seventeen years ago."
"Yes."
"Where did she get me?"
Mercer became very still.
"You saw the file."
"Property 6C."
He nodded.
"What is it?"
Mercer looked toward the smoke rising above the storage units.
"A house in Malibu."
"What happened there?"
"I arrived after the raid."
"What raid?"
"No official raid."
Emma stared.
"Then what?"
"A private extraction."
"Speak English."
Mercer's expression darkened.
"Someone broke into that house and took several children."
Emma felt her heart stop.
"Several?"
"Four infants were documented there."
"Why?"
"I never learned."
"Was I one of them?"
"Yes."
"Who took us?"
"That's the question that got Rebecca Miller killed."
Emma's breath caught.
"And Laura?"
"Laura wasn't supposed to receive you. She was told to transport you after the operation went wrong."
"To who?"
"Charles Harrington."
Emma felt sick.
"Why?"
"I don't know."
"You're lying."
"Not about that."
"Then tell me who my biological mother is."
Mercer stared at her.
"I can't."
"Can't or won't?"
"Can't."
"Why?"
"Because according to every official record I found, your biological mother never existed."
Emma shook her head.
"That's impossible."
"I thought so too."
He reached into his jacket.
Emma stepped backward.
Mercer slowly removed an envelope.
"Laura gave me this six years ago."
"Why didn't you give it to police?"
"Because she made me promise not to."
Emma almost laughed.
"Another promise."
"She said you should receive it only if she disappeared."
"She disappeared three months ago."
"I know."
"So why wait?"
Mercer looked ashamed.
"Because I was afraid."
Emma took the envelope.
Inside was a photograph.
Laura stood beside a teenage girl.
The girl looked around sixteen.
Emma stared.
Same brown hair.
Same eyes.
Same birthmark near the left shoulder.
She looked almost exactly like Emma.
But the photograph was dated:
**2008.**
One year before Emma's supposed birth.
Emma couldn't breathe.
"Who is she?"
Mercer shook his head.
"I don't know."
On the back, Laura had written:
**If Emma ever sees this, tell her I am sorry.**
Below that was another sentence.
**She was not the first.**
Emma looked up.
"What does that mean?"
Mercer stared at the photograph.
"Laura believed the girl died before you were born."
"Who was she?"
"Intake 12."
Emma's blood turned cold.
"Another baby from the program?"
Mercer shook his head.
"No."
"What then?"
He looked directly into Emma's eyes.
"Another Emma."
Emma stopped breathing.
Mercer continued.
"Same estimated age when found. Same blood type. Same birthmark. Nearly identical DNA profile."
"That's impossible."
"I know."
"Was she my sister?"
"Laura thought so at first."
"And then?"
"Then she compared the samples."
Mercer's voice dropped.
"They weren't sisters."
Emma stared at him.
"They were the same person."
For several seconds, she couldn't understand the sentence.
"That's not possible."
"No."
"Then the test was wrong."
"We ran it three times."
Emma shook her head.
"No."
Mercer looked almost frightened now.
"That's why Charles Harrington ordered your records destroyed."
Emma backed away.
"No."
"Emma—"
"No."
"Listen to me."
"I said no!"
She turned toward the storage complex.
Martinez was running toward them.
Mercer suddenly grabbed Emma's wrist.
"There's something else."
"Let go."
"The girl in that photograph didn't die."
Emma froze.
"You just said Laura thought she did."
"Laura was wrong."
"How do you know?"
"Because I saw her."
Emma stared at him.
"When?"
Mercer's grip tightened.
"Three weeks ago."
Emma's heartbeat thundered.
"Where?"
"With Laura."
Everything inside Emma went silent.
"My mother?"
Mercer nodded.
"They were together."
Emma could barely form the question.
"Where are they now?"
Mercer looked toward Martinez approaching the alley.
Then back at Emma.
"I don't know."
"Stop saying that!"
"I lost them."
"How?"
"Because Laura discovered I was still reporting to someone."
Emma's eyes widened.
"Who?"
Mercer released her.
Martinez was almost there.
Mercer stepped backward.
"Ask Detective Martinez why he never told you what his real relationship is to the Harrington family."
Then he ran.
"Mercer!" Martinez shouted.
Emma didn't follow.
She turned slowly toward the detective.
Martinez stopped when he saw her expression.
"What did he tell you?"
Emma held up the photograph of the girl who looked exactly like her.
"Enough."
Martinez saw the image.
His face changed.
Not confusion.
Recognition.
Emma felt cold.
"You've seen her before."
Martinez said nothing.
"Who is she?"
"Emma, we need to leave."
"WHO IS SHE?"
Martinez looked toward the burning storage units.
Then toward the direction Mercer had fled.
Finally, he looked back at Emma.
"Her name was Emily."
Emma's stomach dropped.
"Emily what?"
Martinez hesitated.
"Emily Harrington."
Emma stared at him.
"Harrington?"
"Yes."
"Victoria's family?"
Martinez closed his eyes.
Emma whispered:
"Who was she?"
When Martinez opened his eyes again, whatever answer he had been hiding for years was finally there.
"Victoria Harrington's younger sister."
Emma couldn't move.
"But she looks exactly like me."
"I know."
"Why?"
Martinez's voice was barely audible.
"Because according to the original DNA report, Emma..."
He paused.
"You're her daughter."