Chapter 10 - Leah Admitted She Wrote The Letter
Leah found me outside.
No mask now.
Vanessa was still upstairs with Holt.
“You called Laura.”
“Yes.”
Leah watched my face.
“She told you about the letter.”
I looked at her.
“You wrote it.”
“Yes.”
My anger arrived almost calmly.
“Why?”
“Julian wanted proof your family had stopped searching.”
“So you helped.”
“Yes.”
“Blue mug.”
She closed her eyes.
“I remembered.”
“You used something I told you privately.”
“Yes.”
“Were you forced?”
Leah thought.
“No.”
At least she didn't hide there.
“Why?”
“I thought the public search could expose you.”
“Did you know where I was?”
“Not exactly.”
“Did you know I had already left Vanessa's protection?”
“Yes.”
“So?”
“I thought if Laura kept pushing through missing-person groups and old military contacts, somebody would eventually connect Sarah to Rachel.”
“That was your decision.”
“Yes.”
“Did you ever think maybe I wanted my mother looking?”
Leah looked away.
“No.”
That answer hurt because it was honest.
“You decided the version of me who wanted privacy mattered more than the version who might want home.”
“Yes.”
“Why sign S?”
“I couldn't sign Rachel.”
“So you signed the person you helped build.”
“Yes.”
I laughed softly.
“That's almost impressive.”
She did not smile.
“What happened after?”
Leah stayed inside Julian's organization.
Not as a prisoner.
Not free either.
She audited identity files.
Tracked which relocations were voluntary.
Found four that looked wrong.
Then one of those people contacted her and said:
Stop looking for me.
That shook her.
“Why?”
“Because I realized exposure could hurt people too.”
“So you froze.”
“Yes.”
“Like Vanessa.”
“Yes.”
“Like me.”
Leah looked at me.
“Yes.”
No one clean.
Good.
“What did Julian want?”
“Control over which truth surfaced.”
“Not money?”
“There was money.”
“Of course.”
“Contracts. Influence. People owing him.”
“But?”
“More than that, he liked becoming the person everyone needed when rules failed.”
That I understood too well.
“Did he create my death entry?”
“I still can't prove it.”
“Who could?”
“One of two people.”
“Names.”
Leah shook her head.
“No.”
I laughed.
“Seriously?”
“One is alive under another identity.”
“And the other?”
“Dead.”
“You know who.”
“Yes.”
“Tell me.”
“No.”
My anger rose.
She stayed put.
“Why?”
“Because the living person asked not to be exposed.”
“This is my death.”
“Yes.”
“And their privacy?”
“Also theirs.”
I stared.
She did not back down.
For once, someone withholding information had a reason that wasn't entirely about controlling me.
I hated it anyway.
“What can you tell me?”
Leah looked toward headquarters.
“The first entry was made using a shared emergency terminal.”
“No personal login.”
“Correct.”
“Convenient.”
“Yes.”
“It could have been Julian.”
“Yes.”
“Someone else.”
“Yes.”
“Vanessa?”
“No.”
“You're sure.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“She was physically with you at the clinic when the entry was made.”
That mattered.
The conspiracy had narrowed.
Not vanished.
Then Leah said:
“Julian did something worse later.”
“What?”
“He realized the mistake could protect you and made sure nobody corrected it.”
“How?”
“Pressure.”
“On Vanessa.”
“Yes.”
“On you.”
“Yes.”
“On my mother.”
“Indirectly.”
I looked at her.
“Then he didn't create the lie.”
“Maybe not.”
“He adopted it.”
“Yes.”
That was less satisfying than mastermind Julian.
More believable.
Leah continued:
“And so did we.”
I looked toward the building.
Vanessa had adopted it to protect Leah.
Leah had adopted it to protect me and her access.
My mother had adopted silence because she was afraid.
I had adopted Sarah because calling home felt impossible.
Julian had simply become the person who profited whenever nobody wanted to be first to break the arrangement.
My phone buzzed.
Vanessa.
COME BACK UP.
Then:
I TOLD HOLT EVERYTHING.
Leah read my face.
“Everything?”
“We'll find out.”
When we reached the stairs, Leah stopped.
“Rachel.”
“What?”
“I haven't told my mother why I stayed.”
“She thinks Julian kept you.”
“I know.”
“Are you going to correct her?”
Leah stared through the glass doors.
“Yes.”
“When?”
She took too long.
I almost called her on it.
Then remembered Laura asking how long I had been able to call.
May you like
I let Leah keep the answer for one flight of stairs.
Not longer.
