Chapter 10 - THE WOMAN IN ROOM 614
Derek survived.
Barely.
Police pulled them from the hotel seven minutes before another section collapsed.
Julian escaped.
Again.
By noon, every local station was carrying his face.
FBI agents took over the investigation.
Marcus sat beside Leo at the hospital.
Clara sat beside Derek.
Between them was the flash drive.
She opened the folder marked GRANT.
There were bank transfers.
Medical records.
Photos.
Then an address.
St. Catherine Behavioral Center.
Connecticut.
Patient 614.
J. Dawson.
Clara’s hands shook.
“This can’t be real.”
Derek looked exhausted.
“I found it last month.”
“You knew my mother was alive and said nothing?”
“I didn’t know who you were.”
“You knew her name.”
“I knew mine.”
Clara stopped.
Derek looked away.
“My adoptive parents told me my birth mother was June Dawson. I found her records after they died.”
“And Julian?”
“He found me first.”
Of course he did.
Julian had taken everyone’s secrets and turned them into weapons.
Clara stood.
“I’m going.”
Marcus appeared in the doorway.
“I’m coming with you.”
“No.”
“Clara.”
“She’s my mother.”
“And my father helped put her there.”
That silenced her.
Three hours later, they entered St. Catherine.
Patient 614 had been there for nineteen years.
The doctor met them privately.
“June suffers from severe trauma-related memory disruption.”
Clara stared at him.
“Was she ever mentally ill before coming here?”
The doctor hesitated.
“That’s complicated.”
“Try me.”
“Her original admission paperwork came from Dr. Stephen Grant.”
Marcus cursed under his breath.
The same doctor who treated Elena.
They entered room 614.
A thin gray-haired woman sat beside a window.
Clara stopped in the doorway.
The shape of her hands.
The tilt of her head.
The tiny scar over her eyebrow.
“Mom?”
The woman turned.
Clara began crying before she could stop herself.
June stared at her.
For ten terrible seconds, nothing happened.
Then June whispered, “Clary?”
Clara broke.
She crossed the room and dropped to her knees.
Her mother touched her face.
“My little girl.”
“You’re alive.”
June’s eyes filled.
“I tried to come home.”
“Why didn’t you?”
“They said you were dead.”
Clara froze.
“What?”
June gripped her hand.
“Richard told me the accident killed you.”
Marcus stepped forward.
“My father told you that?”
June saw him.
Her face changed.
“You look like him.”
“Richard?”
She shook her head.
“No.”
“Then who?”
June stared at Marcus in terror.
“Julian.”
Marcus went still.
Clara felt the room shift beneath her.
June whispered:
“Julian Cross is not Richard Blackwood’s son.”
Marcus frowned.
“But the video—”
“Richard lied.”
“Why?”
June looked toward the window as though expecting someone to appear.
“Because the truth was worse.”
Clara squeezed her hand.
“What truth?”
June looked directly at her daughter.
May you like
“Julian is your father.”
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