Chapter 6 - Shadows of the Past
Z
The Lake Maren Sanatorium sat atop a desolate cliff overlooking the murky waters of the lake, its gray stone facade resembling an old Victorian prison rather than a modern medical facility. Fog hung thick around the wrought-iron gates, muffling the sound of the waves crashing violently against the sharp rocks below.
Claire and I slipped through a rusted gap in the perimeter fence, using the darkness of the heavy fog as cover. We were filthy, soaked to the bone, and driving a stolen pickup truck we had hotwired from a farm two miles down the road.
"Are you sure about this?" Claire whispered as we crouched beneath the shadow of the rear entrance stairwell. "If Julian’s men are watching June, we’re walking straight into a trap."
"Julian thinks we died in the house fire," I replied, holding the heavy iron key firmly in my grip. "He isn't looking for us here yet. We have one shot at this before he realizes our bodies weren't in the ashes."
I inserted the key into the side door lock. With a heavy, metallic click, the bolt slid back, and the door creaked open into a long, dimly lit corridor that smelled of disinfectant, damp wool, and decay.
We moved quietly past empty nurses' stations and padlocked medicine wards until we reached the end of the hallway. Room 104 sat isolated at the very back of the building, its heavy reinforced wooden door fitted with a small glass viewing window.
I looked through the glass. Sitting in a high-backed wheelchair near the window, staring out at the foggy lake, was an elderly woman with pure white hair. Her frame was small, fragile, wrapped in a faded blue shawl.
I pushed the door open gently. The hinges groaned loudly in the quiet room.
"Evelyn?" the woman spoke without turning around. Her voice was thin, dry, like rust scraping against iron. "Did you bring the rest of the papers? I told you I won't sign the transfer until I see Claire one last time."
Claire gasped, taking a sharp step back.
The old woman turned her wheelchair around slowly. Her face was lined with deep wrinkles, but her pale blue eyes were sharp, bright, and filled with an eerie, unnerving intelligence. She looked at Claire, and then her gaze shifted to me.
"You're not Evelyn," June said softly, a tiny, unsettling smile curling her pale lips. "Evelyn’s dead, isn't she? I felt her spirit leave this world yesterday morning. The chain finally broke."
"I'm Sarah," I said, stepping forward. "And this is Claire. Your daughter."
June’s eyes fixed onto Claire, assessing her with a cold, analytical curiosity that sent a shiver down my spine. "My daughter... no, dear child. You were never my daughter. You were Evelyn’s bargaining chip."
Claire shook her head, confusion and hurt flashing across her features. "What are you talking about? The birth records... the ancestry test... it showed we were first cousins! You're my biological mother!"
June threw her head back and let out a soft, cackling laugh that echoed off the cold stone walls. "Oh, Evelyn was brilliant! She really made you believe that ridiculous story about Marcus Vance and the illegal loan, didn't she?"
I took a step closer, my skin crawling. "Explain yourself, June. Right now."
June leaned forward in her wheelchair, her eyes narrowing. "Marcus Vance didn't steal you, Claire. Evelyn did. But not from me. From the local hospital nursery in 1998. June Miller was never pregnant. I was Evelyn’s accomplice."
The room seemed to spin violently around me. "What... what did you just say?"
"I was a nurse at the Lake Maren Community Hospital," June revealed, her smile vanishing, replaced by a cold, clinical precision. "Evelyn couldn't have any more children after Sarah was born. But Arthur wanted a son, a second child to complete his perfect little family. When Evelyn realized Arthur was going to leave her because she was infertile, she asked me to help her find a baby."
"You... you stole me?" Claire choked out, horror suffocating her voice.
"We bought you," June corrected calmly. "From an unwed teenage girl who didn't want you. Evelyn forged the birth records, paid off the clinic clerk, and constructed the entire story about Marcus Vance as a cover story in case anyone ever asked questions! Marcus Vance wasn't a loan shark, Sarah! He was a private investigator hired by your father Arthur to find out where Evelyn was secretly sending thousands of dollars every month!"
"The two million dollars..." I gasped, my mind piecing together the terrifying truth. "It wasn't stolen from Vance... it was blackmail money!"
"Evelyn paid me five thousand dollars a month for twenty-five years to keep my mouth shut about the illegal adoption," June spat, her eyes flashing with cold greed. "And when Arthur found out the truth—that Evelyn had bought a stolen baby and framed his family—Evelyn poisoned his morning coffee with lethal doses of digoxin from the hospital pharmacy!"
"She killed Dad..." I whispered, tears blurring my vision as the horrifying reality slammed into me like a freight train. "She poisoned him..."
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"And she buried him under the garden," June added with a terrifying grin. "And now, my dear girls, you've brought yourselves right to the place where all of Evelyn's debts finally come due."
Before I could react, the door behind us slammed shut with a deafening bang, and the heavy bolt locked from the outside.
