12. Chapter Twelve #3
“We tried,” Elaine cries. “Maybe we didn't have a lot of money or connections. Maybe we couldn't buy her all the latest clothes or take her around the world, but we loved her, and we thought that was enough.” She looks at me with drenched eyes. “Why wasn’t it enough?”
“It was enough,” Lorenzo says quietly.
Elaine looks at him tearfully.
“The lack was never in what you gave her. It was in what she chose to do with it. You gave her a family,” he continues. “Love can't heal those who don't have the capacity for it. And what she chose to believe or do does not erase the life you gave her.”
Elaine bows her head, clutching the tissue between both hands.
For a moment, the only sound in the room is her uneven breathing and softening sobs.
I look at Lorenzo.
The sharp edges I am used to seeing in him are gone. He does not reach for her or try to soften what he said with anything else. He simply lets the words do their job.
Elaine finally nods, though I am not sure she believes him yet.
“Daniel used to say something similar,” she whispers. “That we couldn't spend our lives apologizing for what we couldn't give her.”
Lorenzo leans back slightly. “He was right.”
She closes her eyes and draws in a slow breath.
“I should have known something was wrong when she asked for those papers again.”
“You knew she was hurting,” I say. “You didn't know what she intended to do.”
Elaine looks at me. “What happens if you find her?”
“We find out exactly what happened to Genevieve,” I tell her.
Her face crumples again at the name, but she nods.
“The post office box,” I say gently. “Can you look for it?”
“Yes.”
She rises more carefully this time, and pauses again.
“I lied before. I do have copies,” she says, her voice shaking. “But this is worse than I thought. Or rather, it's exactly what I was afraid of.”
“We would really appreciate those copies,” I say.
Elaine leaves the room and walks down the hallway.
The moment she is out of earshot, Lorenzo turns to me. “She knew.”
“She knew enough to be afraid.”
“She let Rachel watch Genevieve for months. Obsess over her, stalk her.”
“Yeah, but I think she was too afraid to admit what Rachel was capable of.”
“That does not absolve her.”
“I didn’t say it did.”
His jaw clenches. “It could've made the difference.”
The only thing I can think to say is, “Yeah.”
Elaine returns carrying a small metal box, which she sets on the coffee table.
She opens it, and inside are envelopes, folded documents, old photographs, and a small notebook secured with an elastic band.
I reach for the notebook.
“What is this?”
“Numbers. Addresses. Things Rachel gave me over the years in case I needed to reach her.”
I open it.
Most entries have been crossed out. Several addresses belong to places she left long ago. Phone numbers change every few months.
Near the back is a post office box and a date from three months ago.
I copy it.
Then I turn the page.
A motel name is written beneath it.
No city or date.
Just a name.
“Did Rachel stay here?”
Elaine leans closer.
“I don’t remember.”
“Why is it in the notebook?”
“She must have given it to me.”
“Do you know when?” I ask, though I'm afraid I know the answer.
“I don’t know.”
I show it to Lorenzo.
His eyes meet mine.
It is not much. Rachel left almost nothing.
A motel name is enough to start.
I photograph every page in the notebook, then the letter, the adoption records, and the few photographs of Rachel as an adult.
One picture is recent enough to be familiar. Her hair is the same shade as Genevieve’s, cut shorter, but the resemblance remains striking.
I take a picture.
“Would Rachel know how to get into a locked apartment?”
Elaine looks at me for a long moment. “Yes.”
“How?”
“She was always good with locks. She used to sneak out and back in.”
That does not surprise me.
“What else was she good at?”
“Watching people. Remembering things.” Elaine’s voice breaks slightly. “Becoming whatever she needed to be.”
I close the notebook.
That sounds useful for a woman impersonating her twin in a crowded club.
It also sounds useful to whoever recruited her.
We remain another half hour, going through the box and asking questions Elaine cannot or will not answer. By the time we leave, in addition to the post office box and the motel name, I have several old phone numbers and two former addresses.
None of it gives me Rachel.
But it brings her closer.
Outside, Lorenzo waits until we reach the car before speaking.
“She lied at the beginning.”
“Yes.”
“You expected that.”
I look at him over the top of the car. “In your particular line of business, Lorenzo, do people always tell you the truth?”
He knows I'm not talking about Conti Enterprises.
He considers me for a moment.
“No,” he says. “Sometimes they tell me what they think will keep them safe.”
“Exactly.”
I open the door and slide in. “Elaine was protecting herself, Rachel, or both. That does not mean she knew what was going to happen.”
“But she feared something.”
“Yes, and now we have enough to start finding out why.”
I look once more at Elaine Monroe’s house while Mocha greets me from the backseat.
She is standing behind the curtain, watching us leave.
Rachel learned how to watch people somewhere.
Maybe she learned it here.