Total pages in book: 75
Estimated words: 71616 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 358(@200wpm)___ 286(@250wpm)___ 239(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71616 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 358(@200wpm)___ 286(@250wpm)___ 239(@300wpm)
That’s all. No odd remark, no jokes. Just a straightforward text.
“What is it?” Jericho asks.
“Robbie.”
I set my drink down and click into my email. I open the first of several attachments. It’s a photo of a woman about Blue’s age but it’s not her. Although if I look closely, there’s some resemblance in the particular shade of blue of the eyes, in the slant of the nose. This woman, though, has blond hair and pale skin. Blue’s natural hair color is dark, and her skin has an olive tint.
I peer closer. There’s something strange in the woman’s expression. Something absent.
Jericho comes to sit beside me and looks over my shoulder.
“Who is that?”
I scroll down and read her name. Wren Thorne. Age 21. Resident of Oakwood Care Facility, admitted half a year ago. Attached to it is a copy of a check written by B. Thorne.
Thorne.
Not Smith. Not that I believed it was.
“I think that’s Blue’s sister.” I scroll back up to look at her photo again.
“Oakwood,” Jericho says.
“Medical facility. Their patients are mostly children and adults who have sustained a brain injury.”
Another email comes in just as my phone rings. I glance at the display and answer.
“I’m not waking you, am I?” Robbie asks, again no joking in his tone.
“Nope. What is this?”
“Figured it’d be easier to call and explain. That picture is of Wren Thorne. Or at least that’s the name on the documents used to admit her to the Oakwood Care Facility as well as the facility she was at before that in sunny Orlando, Florida.”
“She’s Blue’s sister,” I say.
“Half right.”
“What does that mean? Wait, I’m putting you on speaker. My brother’s here. You remember Jericho?”
“Sure do. Hey Jericho, how are you doing?”
“All right. You?”
“Fine. Enjoying Amsterdam.”
“Robbie,” I say, getting him back on track.
He clears his throat. “The last name, though, it’s not hers. The documents used to admit Wren were forged. Well, at least tampered with. I just sent you another email. I marked where the last name was doctored and honestly not very well.”
“The checks, B. Thorne. Is that Bluebird Thorne?”
“No, the account belongs to a Bethany Thorne and the only transactions over the last two years are checks written to Oakwood where Wren is living now. Before that, they were written to the facility in Florida. Just sent those your way.”
“Who’s Bethany Thorne?”
“Bethany Thorne is Wren’s mother. The address, Philadelphia address by the way in case I didn’t mention it. Anyway, the address on the checks is where Wren and Bluebird a.k.a. Blue Masterson, lived. Thing is, Bethany Thorne disappeared four years ago. Whoever is using the account, and my guess is it’s Blue, makes cash deposits in the same amount as the checks that are written monthly. Now on to you being half right about Wren being Blue’s sister. Bethany Thorne was married three times, last time to a Thomas Thorne. Now he sounds like a real winner. According to Wren’s birth certificate, though, he’s not her father. Her father is James Johnson, Bethany’s husband at the time of Wren’s birth. They divorced shortly after, and Bethany married Thorne. She had his child, Bluebird, two years after Wren’s birth. I attached her birth certificate.”
“So they’re half-sisters?”
“Yep. Thomas, or Lucky Tommy as he likes to be called these days, although Unlucky might be more apt, considering his current circumstances, is Blue’s father but not Wren’s. Bethany, however, was lucky. For a time. She’s in the paper for having won three hundred thousand in the lottery a few years back.”
“Well, good for her.”
“And, surprise of surprises, that’s when Tommy, who’d been gone for some time, moved back in. I guess the money made him realize how much he loved his wife and daughter.”
“Sounds like it.”
“A few months after that, Bethany disappeared. You catching on?”
“Yeah. Sounds like a gem. Where is Lucky Tommy now?”
“Prison.”
I glance at Jericho, my eyebrows rising. “What put him there? Did they find Bethany?” Jericho asks.
“No, she’s still a missing person. Someone called in a tip on an armed robbery and police picked him up at a strip club near their home. Timing is interesting. Wren’s brain injury came a few years ago. Evidence turned up out of thin air a few days after her mental condition was diagnosed. Poor kid. She’d been accepted to medical school before things took a turn for her.”
“Did she have an accident or something?”
“Or something. Blue took her to the hospital. There are photos of both girls. I’ll send those your way as soon as I can. Police got involved but Blue swore they’d fallen down the stairs.”
“Both of them?” Jericho asks.
“Mhm.”
“And did a window break Blue’s fall and give her that nasty cut across her face?”
He snorts.
My chest tightens, my hand clenches, unclenches.
“Anyway, Lucky Tommy was never arrested for it. Not even sure cops ever questioned him. At least, not for that. However, the night he was picked up for robbery, the girls disappeared. Took mom’s car and got out of town. They’ve been MIA ever since. Until now, of course.”