The Belial Ring (The Belial Series 3) (13 page)

“
After the attack, Henry, Jake, and I were chased down. We ended up crashing Henry’s car and running through the woods. We were cornered, but Rocky showed up. She saved us.”

“
Rocky? What on earth was she doing there?”

Laney took a deep breath.
“Apparently Victoria sent Rocky to Syracuse five years ago to keep an eye on me. To help me if I was ever in trouble.”

Patrick stared at Laney
, trying to understand what she was saying. Victoria sent someone to look after Laney? What on earth was going on? “Victoria? Henry’s mother?”

Laney nodded.

“But I thought you just met her a couple of months ago.”

“
That’s what I thought, too.”

“
Laney, I’m not understanding this. Why would Victoria send someone to look out for you? And when did you meet her before?”

Patrick could feel the tremble in Laney
’s hand. She looked at him, tears in her eyes. “Fiona McPhearson. Mom.” She paused. “She wasn’t my biological mother.”

Patrick stared at her, waiting for more of an explanation.

But Laney stayed silent.

He reached his hand
up to cup her cheek. Did she have a concussion? Had she been hurt worse than he knew during the attack? What was this nonsense? “Laney, honey, what are you talking about?”

Laney
’s words came out in a burst. “Victoria gave birth to me on January twenty-sixth. But she said she had to give me away to protect me. Mom and Dad’s daughter, their biological daughter, your niece, she died. Victoria had me take her place.”

Patrick paused, his concern growing.
“Did you hit your head? Maybe we should take you to the hospital, get you checked out.”

Laney stood up, her hands in fists, tears in her voice.
“I’m not imagining this. I’m not hurt or delusional. I saw proof. I’m not their daughter. I’m not your—” Her voice broke. “I’m not your niece.”

Patrick fell back on the couch.
It couldn’t be true. But as he looked at Laney’s face, he knew that at least she believed it was. And Laney wasn’t easy to convince. “Are you sure?”

Laney nodded, her voice shaky.
“I am.”

“
Why are you sure?”

“
I saw blood tests. There’s no way I could be Fiona and Derek McPhearson’s biological daughter.”

Visions of Fiona
ran through Patrick’s mind. She’d been younger than him, with red hair, just like Laney. And he remembered the heartache in her voice when she called to tell him that the baby she carried wouldn’t survive. And then, the miracle: Laney was born, happy and healthy.

Laney had led a normal life, until this last year.
Patrick had worried about how she seemed to keep getting caught up in these Atlantis situations. Was it possible that Laney really was someone else’s daughter?

Patrick was glad he was sitting, because his legs felt weak.
He felt like the rug had been pulled out from under them. It couldn’t be true, though, could it?

Laney sat back down across from him.
He knew she was trying to be strong, to hold back the emotions that were no doubt rushing through her.

Patrick leaned over and kissed her cheek, pulling her into a hug.
“Even if it’s true, it doesn’t change anything, Laney. I love you.”

He pulled her into his arms and hugged her tight.
              Laney wrapped her arms around his waist.

They stayed huddled together for a long time.
Patrick knew Laney needed the comfort, the assurance. But his mind kept trying to figure out how any of what she said could be possible.

F
inally, he pulled back, kissing her on the forehead. “I love you, honey. None of this, if it’s true, changes that. But right now, I need to go. I’ll be back.”

Laney looked as if she
’d been slapped. Patrick hugged her again before standing. He hated the hurt he was causing her, but he needed answers. He needed more.

He
left the living room and strode down the hall to the front door before his resolve left him. The image of Laney’s anguished face pulled at him.

Jerking open the front door, he was surprised to see Henry sitting on the
porch, Jake next to him. Patrick stepped onto the porch and nodded at Jake, who slipped into the cottage, closing the door behind him.

Henry stood, speaking quietly.
“I have the helicopter standing by. Claude knows where to take you. There will be a car with directions waiting for you. I’m sorry, but I can’t have Claude drop you right at her door.”

Patrick hadn
’t even realized where he was going to go until Henry spoke. Victoria. He needed to see Victoria.

Patrick nodded, heading down the steps, but then stopped and turned to look at the tall man.
“Take care of her, Henry. I love her—that hasn’t changed. But I need some answers. I owe my sister that.”

“
I know,” Henry said.

And Patrick realized, with a shock, that
Henry really did. Because if all of this was true, Henry had a sister, too.

Patrick wanted to say more.
But he couldn’t form the words. So he just turned and walked down the path.

Laney
’s not Fiona’s daughter. How can this be happening?

CHAPTER 27

Rockland, Maine

T
hree and a half hours later, Patrick pulled up to the Maine home. It was a large two-story white colonial with black shutters, and flowers blooming along the front. A tree swing lay still under a towering willow twenty feet from the house.

The Chandler helicopter had dropped him forty miles away.
As Henry had promised, a Jeep had been waiting for him, directions programmed into the GPS.

Patrick sat behind the steering wheel, watching the house.
He’d noticed the electronic surveillance as he drove up the long drive, and he’d had to request access at the gate. So Victoria knew he was here—yet no one appeared. He was grateful. He needed a moment to prepare himself, to brace himself for the conversation to come.

His mind still reeled at everything Laney had told him
—and at the heartbreak on her face. He knew he needed to be there for her, but first he needed answers. He owed Fiona that. He owed Laney that. She believed what she told him. He needed to find out if it was true. Taking a deep breath, Patrick stepped out of the car.

He
walked up the stone path. It was quiet, a slight wind blew, and the sun felt warm. It was a peaceful spot. It helped calm his emotions.

The front door opened when he was still five feet away.

A tall, muscular man
, in his fifties, with dark brown hair, stepped back to allow him entrance. “Father Patrick, I’m Ralph. Victoria is expecting you. Follow me, please.”

Patrick stepped in and Ralph closed the door behind him
, then led him down the hall without a word. Ralph stopped at a door at the end and gestured for Patrick to enter.

The room
Patrick stepped into was a large study. Two couches framed a brick fireplace on the right. On the left was an antique desk with a silver tea set. Victoria stood in front of a chaise lounge, her back to a bay window that looked out on an incredible garden.

“
Victoria?” Ralph asked.

“
That’s all, Ralph. Thank you,” she replied.

With a nod to Patrick, Ralph took himself back down the hall.

“Father Patrick, can I offer you some tea?” Victoria indicated the tea set on the desk.

The normality of the offer pushed Patrick
’s anger to the surface. This woman had brought all this drama and heartache to his family, and now she was offering tea?

He strode across the room.
“Tea? No. I don’t want any of your bloody tea. What I want are answers.”

Victoria pursed her lips, her back going straight.
“Of course. Could we at least sit?” She gestured to the couches.

Patrick gave an abrupt nod.
He tried to swallow his resentment. He needed answers, and his anger would only cloud the conversation.

“
I take it Laney has spoken with you,” Victoria said as she took a seat.

Patrick sat down across from her, leaning forward.
“Yes. She’s convinced you’re her biological mother and that my sister was only her unofficial adopted mother. I don’t see how any of that is possible.”

Victoria took a breath.
“It’s true. Delaney is my biological daughter. Your sister’s child died an hour after she was born.”

Patrick stared at her.
Who the hell
was
this woman? “Why should I believe you?”

Victoria took a folder off the table.
“I showed these papers to Laney: the blood work.” She pulled one sheet of paper from the folder. “I didn’t have a chance to show her this one. It’s a DNA test between her and Henry.”

Patrick took the paper, checking the subjects
’ names. “This says John and Jane Doe.”

Victoria nodded.
“Yes. I didn’t think it was wise to use their actual names.”

Patrick scrolled to the bottom, According to the test results, their was a 99.9% chance the subjects were full brother and sister.
Patrick felt shaken. “This could be anyone.”

“
The test can be re-done, but the result would be the same. And why would I lie about this? Why disrupt so many people’s lives if it weren’t true?”

Patrick decided to leave those questions alone for now.
Right now, he just needed to know how and if this was really true. “How did you do it?”

Victoria
’s words were straightforward, but Patrick could hear the emotion underneath them. Victoria wasn’t as calm as she would like him to believe. “I had a number of couples investigated. I knew that if I kept Laney, it would be too dangerous for her. I had a number of families lined up.”

“
Lined up?” Patrick was incredulous.

Victoria put up her hands.
“Several couples that were expecting a child. A child with a slim to nonexistent chance of surviving birth. Like your sister and her husband. Your sister’s child was diagnosed with Patau syndrome. The best-case scenario was that the child would survive a few days after birth. The worst case was that she would die in utero, which happens in most cases. The plan was only to replace a child who had died.”

“
Do you have any idea how cold you sound? ‘Replace’ a
child?
You can’t replace a child.”

Victoria
’s eyes snapped to him. “I know that. Do you think this was an easy decision for me? Do you think I happily handed over my child? This decision broke me apart. But I did it for Laney. I did it to keep her safe.”

The room was charged with emotion and Patrick swallowed.
“Where is my—” He paused, taking a breath. “Where is my niece buried?”

Victoria
’s violet eyes stared back at him for a moment. “Follow me.”

Victoria walked out of the room, down the long hall, through the kitchen
, and out the back door.

Patrick had to hurry to keep up with her.
She walked down a path that cut through a riotous garden. A narrow path jutted off to the left a hundred yards from the house. Victoria turned down it and disappeared over a little rise.

Patrick followed the path
, coming to a stop at the top of the little hill. Below him was a circular clearing, bordered by bushes and brightly colored flowers, daisies, black-eyed Susans, roses, and a few more colorful flowers he couldn’t identify.

A small wrought
-iron bench sat off to the right of the clearing beneath a Rose-of-Sharon tree. And in the middle of the clearing was a white tombstone.

Patrick walked slowly
toward the stone, his legs trembling. It was a beautiful spot. He had to give Victoria credit for that. And it was obviously well tended. He knelt at the tombstone and traced the carvings with his hand.

Sarah

She never had a chance to live,

But through her death helped save another.

In Hebrew, Sarah meant “princess.” Touched, he turned to Victoria. “You named her?”

Victoria gave him an abrupt nod.
“Sarah was—” She stopped, taking a breath. “That was supposed to be Laney’s name. She was baptized as well.”

Patrick was surprised at the comfort he took in Victoria
’s words. He turned back to the grave. Above the words, a stone angel was carved.

Tears sprang to his eyes.
This was his niece, the last piece of his sister.