Chapter 2 - THE WOMAN WHO DISAPPEARED TWICE
Nenah drove until Chicago became memory.
Then kept driving.
No GPS.
No payroll card.
No credit card.
Only cash.
By dawn she crossed Wisconsin.
By afternoon she reached a town outside Green Bay where nobody knew the Kincaid name.
She rented a room over a laundromat.
Cash weekly.
No questions.
The owner, Mrs. Delgado, needed someone to help in the café next door.
Nenah started the following morning.
Kitchen again.
Different stove.
Different knives.
Different life.
She told herself Reed had made his choice.
That should have made hers easier.
It did not.
At night she woke hearing imagined footsteps outside the door.
Not because she thought Reed would hurt her.
Because part of her wanted him to find her.
That was worse.
Three days passed.
Then five.
On the seventh morning, a man sat at the café counter.
Gray coat.
Late sixties.
Kind face.
He ordered coffee and eggs.
Nenah served him.
His hand began trembling when he saw her.
She noticed.
“You okay?”
He stared.
“Your name.”
“What?”
“What is your name?”
Every instinct sharpened.
“Nenah.”
His face changed.
“Blake?”
She stepped backward.
“How do you know that?”
The man stood too quickly and almost knocked over his coffee.
“My name is Arthur Bell.”
Bell.
One of the surnames in her foster records.
Nenah’s stomach tightened.
“I don’t know you.”
“No.”
His eyes filled.
“But I knew your mother.”
She almost laughed.
People had told her many versions.
Dead.
Addicted.
Unknown.
Unable to care for her.
No version lasted.
“What was her name?”
Arthur whispered:
“Evelyn.”
Nenah’s heart stopped.
The name meant nothing consciously.
Yet something inside reacted.
“Evelyn what?”
Arthur looked around.
Then:
“Kincaid.”
Nenah stared.
No.
Impossible.
She turned away.
“Leave.”
“I can prove it.”
“I said leave.”
He reached into his coat slowly.
Pulled out an old photograph.
Same hospital room.
Same woman.
Same newborn.
Nenah’s hands went cold.
“How do you have that?”
“I took it.”
She looked at him.
Arthur had been a private physician attached to a Chicago clinic used discreetly by powerful families.
Evelyn Kincaid became pregnant at nineteen.
Father?
Unknown publicly.
But the Kincaid patriarch—Reed’s grandfather—considered the pregnancy a scandal.
Evelyn refused to name the man.
She gave birth secretly.
Then supposedly died in a car accident eleven months later.
The baby disappeared.
Arthur had helped arrange temporary foster care.
“Temporary?”
Nenah’s voice cracked.
“Yes.”
“What happened?”
“Someone changed the plan.”
Who?
Arthur did not know.
He received notice that infant Evelyn’s daughter had been legally adopted out of state.
Then records vanished.
He spent years believing the Kincaid family handled it.
“Why find me now?”
Arthur looked ashamed.
“I didn’t.”
“You’re sitting here.”
“Someone called me.”
Nenah went still.
“Who?”
“A man named Marshall Puit.”
Her blood froze.
Marshall knew where she was.
Before Reed did.
Arthur continued:
“He said you might need answers.”
“Why would he help me?”
Arthur looked confused.
“He said Reed sent him.”
Nenah knew immediately.
Wrong.
Reed would come himself.
Or send Jonas.
Not Marshall.
Then café door opened.
A second man entered.
Black coat.
Familiar.
Jonas Heath.
Nenah almost cried from relief.
He looked at Arthur.
Then at Nenah.
“Boss didn’t send Marshall.”
There.
Confirmation.
Jonas walked closer.
“Reed has been looking for you for six days.”
Nenah’s chest tightened despite herself.
Then:
“He found out Marshall’s people were searching too.”
“Why?”
Jonas glanced at Arthur.
“Because this isn’t about a marriage anymore.”
He lowered his voice.
“Marshall forged the photograph Reed saw.”
Arthur’s face changed.
“What photograph?”
Jonas looked at Nenah.
“The one that made Reed think you might be his cousin.”
Nenah went still.
Arthur slowly shook his head.
“No.”
“What?”
“She is Evelyn Kincaid’s daughter.”
Then Arthur whispered:
“But Evelyn was not Reed’s aunt.”
Silence.
May you like
“She was his father’s first wife.”
And suddenly the entire story changed again.
