“Your mother’s twin sister,” I said. “She was married to James Doherty.”
“Reaper’s mother,” she whispered as she closed her eyes.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Popeye
King’s hand tightened on Grace’s shoulder. “Jesus Christ, will this shit never end?”
“Yeah.” I looked at Grace, saw the shock and betrayal warring in her eyes. “Your mother told you about her?”
“No.” Grace’s voice was hollow. “When James was here last summer before...” King squeezed her shoulders.
“Before the attack, the night you showed up. Donna told Grace about Caroline and Vain.”
“James Dougal,” I confirmed. “President of the Black Vultures.” I looked up at King; this conversation was only going to get harder for Grace. “Baby girl, your mother contacted Caroline knowing you would be gone for the weekend. And when your mother asked her to take the baby—” I stopped, the words catching in my throat.
“What?” Grace demanded. “What did Caroline do?”
I looked down at the journal, at Christina’s desperate handwriting. “She took him. Christina never knew what she did with him until years later when you were living in New Orleans. Then she found out the baby was living with a man named Matrix in California.”
King went very still. “Matrix?”
“You know him?” I asked.
“Know of him,” King said carefully. “He’s a Golden Skull.”
“There is no explanation as to how he ended up with Matrix,” I continued. “Christina didn’t know where he was until Caroline called and threatened his life.” I paused, steeling myself for what came next. “And yours Grace.”
Grace’s face had gone pale. “What did she do?”
“She kidnapped him.” The words came out flat, emotionless, because if I let myself feel what I was saying, I’d lose it completely. “Held him captive at a plantation in Louisiana. Used him as leverage against your mother.”
“Leverage for what?” King’s voice was hard, dangerous.
I met his eyes. “She needed someone distracted, and she used her sister to do it.”
Grace’s hand flew to her mouth. “Oh my God. How?”
I couldn’t say it. Couldn’t tell my daughter that her mother had sold her body one more time to keep her children alive. So I just shook my head.
“Dad.” Grace’s voice was stronger now, demanding. “How?”
King’s expression had gone cold, calculating. “When was this?”
I shared the same story with Grace and King that Christina had shared with me in her journal.
Grace broke then, a sob tearing from her throat. King pulled her up and into his arms, holding her as she cried against his chest. I sat there, feeling useless, feeling like I’d just shattered whatever good memories Grace had left of her mother.
But she needed to know. Needed to understand.
After a few minutes, Grace pulled back from King, wiping her eyes. “This boy,” she said, her voice thick. “My... my brother. What’s his name?”
I looked down at the journal. “Christina said she never gave him a name, but later she called him Samuel. I’m not sure if he even knows the truth about who he is.”
King’s phone was already in his hand. “I know how to find out.”
Grace sank back into her chair, her hand on her belly, her face pale. I wanted to reach out for her, wanted to comfort her, but I didn’t know how. Didn’t know what to say that wouldn’t make it worse.
