Chapter 26: The Trash Can Dive

Why was I still here?

The question beat against my skull like a second pulse. If I was *defective*, if the order had been *Return to Source*, why was I driving down the highway at eighty miles an hour instead of decomposing in a shallow grave?

"Sarah, watch out!" Mark yelled, grabbing the dashboard.

I swerved, narrowly missing a semi-truck as I cut across three lanes of traffic. The exit for the airport was coming up.

"Sorry," I muttered, gripping the wheel. "Ben found something. Another baby."

Mark looked at me, his face pale. "Another one? How many of us are there?"

"Three," I said. "Leo. You. Me. But Ben found a note about me. It said 'defective'. It said 'return to source'."

Mark was silent for a long moment. Then he let out a bitter laugh.

"Defective," he said. "Maybe that's why she kept you. Maybe you were the only one broken enough to fit into her life."

"Or maybe she couldn't return me," I said. "Maybe Dr. Thorne wouldn't take a refund."

We pulled into the departure lane of the international terminal. The curb was crowded with families, luggage, and goodbyes. I scanned the line of cars, looking for a black Mercedes.

"There," Mark said, pointing.

It was parked in a loading zone, hazard lights flashing. The trunk was open. A driver was loading suitcases onto a cart.

And standing next to the car, checking her watch, was Edith.

But she wasn't alone.

Sitting in a wheelchair next to her, wrapped in a blanket despite the heat, was Clara.

"She's taking her," I said, slamming the car into park. "She's actually taking her."

I jumped out, leaving the engine running. Mark was right behind me.

"Edith!" I screamed.

Heads turned. People stared. But Edith didn't flinch. She looked up, her expression one of mild annoyance, as if I were a pest she had forgotten to spray for.

"Sarah," she said coolly. "Mark. You're making a scene."

"Let her go," I said, marching toward them. "You're not taking Clara anywhere."

"I am her legal guardian," Edith said. "I am taking her to a specialist in Zurich. It's all arranged."

"You're taking her to silence her," Mark said, stepping up beside me. "Just like you silenced Alice Miller."

Edith's eyes flicked to Mark. For the first time, I saw a crack in the ice. A flicker of... something. Not fear. Disappointment.

"Alice was a tragedy," she said. "A troubled girl who made poor choices."

"She made a choice to have a baby," Mark said. "A baby you stole."

Edith sighed. She signaled to the driver, who started pushing the luggage cart toward the terminal doors.

"I saved you, Mark," she said. "Alice would have raised you in a trailer park. I gave you the world."

"You gave me a lie," Mark spat.

He reached for Clara's wheelchair. Edith stepped in front of him, blocking his path.

"Don't touch her," she said. Her voice was low, dangerous. "She is fragile."

"She's my mother," a voice said.

We all froze.

Leo was walking toward us from the parking garage. Ben was with him, guiding him through the crowd. Leo looked terrified, overwhelmed by the noise and the people. But his eyes were fixed on Clara.

"She's my mother," he repeated, his voice stronger this time.

Edith stared at him. She looked at the man she had locked in a basement for thirty years. The man she had erased.

"Leo," she whispered. It wasn't an admission. It was an accusation.

Clara stirred in the wheelchair. She lifted her head, her cloudy eyes focusing on Leo's face.

"My star," she rasped.

"No," Edith said, grabbing the handles of the wheelchair. "She's confused. She doesn't know who he is."

"She knows," I said. "And so do we. We know everything, Edith. We know about the exchange. We know about the padding. We know about the money."

I pulled the birth certificates from my pocket and held them up.

"We have the proof," I said. "And the police are on their way."

Edith looked at the papers. She looked at Leo. She looked at Mark.

And then she laughed.

It was a terrifying sound. A sound of pure, unadulterated madness.

"You think you've won?" she asked. "You think a few pieces of paper can stop me?"

She reached into her purse. I tensed, expecting a gun.

But she pulled out a lighter.

And a small, plastic bottle.

Lighter fluid.

"Edith, don't," Ben yelled, lunging forward.

She flicked the lighter.

"If I can't have the legacy," she said, smiling her shark smile, "no one can."

She wasn't aiming at the papers.

She was aiming at Clara.

The blanket on Clara's lap was soaked in something. I smelled it now. Sharp. Chemical.

Edith had doused her own sister in accelerant.

"Goodbye, Clara," Edith whispered.

And she dropped the lighter.