Chapter 6 - THE BABY IN THE BASEMENT
“No.”
Mara said it once.
Then again.
“No.”
Isabella stood so quickly that her chair overturned.
“That is not true.”
Anthony pointed toward the laptop.
“Frank seemed pretty damn sure.”
“He lies.”
“So do you,” Vincent replied.
Isabella looked wounded.
This time Vincent didn't care.
Mara approached her.
“Am I your daughter?”
“No.”
“Look at me.”
Isabella did.
Mara's voice cracked.
“Am I your daughter?”
“No.”
The answer came firmly.
Then Isabella added:
“But I know who your mother is.”
Nobody moved.
Isabella looked at Rebecca.
Rebecca's face changed first.
“No.”
Isabella whispered, “I'm sorry.”
Rebecca backed into the glass wall.
“No.”
Mara turned between them.
“What is happening?”
Rebecca pressed both hands against her mouth.
Isabella spoke gently.
“Rose didn't leave this house when she was six.”
Vincent frowned.
Rebecca stared at her mother.
“What are you talking about?”
“You came back.”
Rebecca shook her head.
“Years later.”
“When?”
“You were sixteen.”
Mara went pale.
The numbers were beginning to align.
Rebecca was fifty-four.
Mara was twenty-eight.
Rebecca would have been twenty-six when Mara was born, not sixteen.
But Isabella continued.
“You returned at twenty-five. You wanted answers about Salvatore and Sarah.”
Rebecca whispered, “I don't remember.”
“I know.”
That terrified everyone more.
“What happened?” Vincent asked.
Isabella's hands shook.
“Rose confronted Salvatore. He told her things about Thomas. About me. About why she was sent away.”
Rebecca stared blankly.
“And then?”
“You disappeared again.”
“I left Boston.”
“No.”
Isabella's eyes filled.
“You gave birth first.”
Mara made a choking sound.
Rebecca's knees nearly gave out.
Anthony caught her.
“No,” Rebecca whispered.
“You had a daughter,” Isabella continued. “And Sarah took the baby.”
Mara stared at Rebecca.
The resemblance wasn't obvious.
Not until it was.
The same hazel eyes.
The same slightly crooked left eyebrow.
The same way both women pressed their thumbs into their palms when frightened.
“My mother…” Mara whispered.
Rebecca looked at her.
And shattered.
“I don't remember you.”
Mara began crying too.
“How does someone forget having a child?”
“Because someone made sure she did,” Vincent said.
Everyone turned.
He was staring at the surveillance screen.
The cellar recording had continued playing.
Frank was speaking.
“The hospital called it trauma-induced amnesia,” he told Mara on screen. “That was convenient. The medication helped.”
Anthony swore.
Vincent's voice became cold.
“Medication?”
Isabella looked sick.
“Frank had doctors.”
Mara's eyes widened.
“He drugged her?”
Isabella nodded.
Rebecca touched her forehead as though she could force twenty-eight missing years to reveal themselves.
Then one memory surfaced.
A lullaby.
She began humming.
Mara froze.
Rebecca stopped.
“What?”
Mara was crying harder now.
“My mom—Sarah—used to sing that to me.”
Rebecca stared at her.
“I know that song.”
“How?”
“I don't know.”
Mara crossed the room slowly.
Neither woman knew whether to embrace.
So they simply stood inches apart, looking at each other.
Mother and daughter.
Strangers.
Family.
Then Daniel rushed into the greenhouse.
“We found Frank's car.”
Vincent turned.
“Where?”
“At Logan Airport.”
“Is he leaving?”
“No.”
Daniel swallowed.
“The car is empty.”
Vincent's expression hardened.
“Then where is he?”
Daniel held up a phone.
“We traced the device that sent the photograph this morning.”
“And?”
“It never left the property.”
Vincent looked toward the mansion.
“He's still here.”
Daniel nodded.
“But that's not the worst part.”
He handed Vincent the phone.
A live video feed had appeared.
Sarah Bennett was tied to the chair in the cellar.
Blood ran from her temple.
Behind her stood Frank Costello.
He looked directly into the camera.
“Vincent,” he said.
“I know you're watching.”
Frank smiled.
“Bring me Isabella.”
May you like
He raised a gun beside Sarah's head.
“Or Mara loses both mothers tonight.”
