Chapter 2 - THE GIRL WITH HIS MOTHER'S SECRET
Ethan spent the next six hours looking for Lily.
Money made many things easier.
Finding a frightened eight-year-old who did not want to be found was not one of them.
His security chief, Marcus Hale, arrived within thirty minutes.
Marcus was a former detective and one of the few people in Ethan's life willing to tell him when he was being unreasonable.
“You chased a child into an alley?”
“I followed her.”
“That sounds better?”
“She knew my mother's name.”
Marcus stopped joking.
Ethan explained everything.
The cake.
Lily.
Rebecca.
Grace.
Marcus listened.
“Last name?”
“I don't know.”
“Age?”
“No.”
“Description?”
“Maybe early twenties when I was eleven.”
“You're giving me almost nothing.”
“I’m giving you a name.”
“Grace is not a rare name.”
Samuel stood behind them.
“Grace Bennett.”
Ethan turned.
Samuel had gone pale.
“What?”
Samuel lowered himself into a chair.
“I knew I remembered something.”
Ethan came closer.
“You knew her?”
“She came into the bakery.”
“When?”
“After your mother died.”
Ethan’s heart began pounding.
“How long after?”
“Maybe a month.”
Samuel rubbed his forehead.
“She had a baby. A little girl.”
“Why didn't you tell me?”
“I didn't know where you went.”
“You could have told social services.”
Samuel looked ashamed.
“I tried.”
Ethan said nothing.
Samuel explained.
Grace Bennett appeared one snowy afternoon asking about Ethan.
She said Rebecca had told her Samuel gave Ethan his birthday cake.
Grace knew Ethan had been placed in foster care.
She wanted to find him.
Samuel called the number social services had given him.
Nobody returned the call.
Grace came back twice.
Then never again.
“Did she tell you who she was?”
Samuel hesitated.
“She said she owed your mother her life.”
Ethan stared.
“What does that mean?”
“I don't know.”
Marcus asked, “Anything else?”
Samuel looked at Ethan.
“She had an envelope.”
Ethan leaned forward.
“For me?”
Samuel nodded.
“Did you keep it?”
“No.”
Ethan's anger flashed.
“What happened to it?”
“She wouldn't leave it.”
Samuel explained Grace believed someone was looking for her.
She kept checking the street.
She said she would give the envelope directly to Ethan when she found him.
“Who was looking for her?”
“She never said.”
Ethan paced.
Twenty years ago, his mother died.
Grace disappeared.
Now Grace’s daughter appeared homeless with instructions to find him.
There was no coincidence large enough to explain that.
Marcus began making calls.
By evening, they found a Grace Bennett in public records.
Age forty-two.
Registered nurse.
Former employee of St. Catherine’s Medical Center.
No current address.
No tax filings for eleven months.
No recent employment.
One daughter.
Lillian Bennett.
Eight years old.
Lily.
Ethan looked at the school records.
Lily had attended Lakeside Elementary until nine weeks earlier.
Then stopped.
No transfer.
No withdrawal.
She simply disappeared.
Marcus became more serious.
“That gets child services involved.”
“Good.”
“Ethan.”
“What?”
“If Lily has been surviving on the street, she may run from anyone official.”
“So what do we do?”
“We find her first.”
At 10:14 p.m., Samuel called.
“I think she's back.”
Ethan drove himself.
No Rolls-Royce.
No driver.
He parked two blocks from the bakery.
Lily was sitting in the doorway beside the new building.
The cake box was next to her.
Half empty.
She had saved the other half.
Ethan approached slowly.
“Hi.”
She looked up.
“You found me.”
“You came back.”
“Mr. Bell told me I could.”
Samuel had left the side entrance unlocked and a blanket beside it.
Ethan sat on the curb several feet away.
“Your mother's Grace Bennett.”
Lily immediately became alert.
“How do you know?”
“I looked.”
“You're rich.”
“So I've been told.”
She hugged her knees.
“Rich people can find anything.”
“Not everything.”
He looked at her.
“I couldn't find you.”
That seemed to please her.
“Where is your mom?”
Lily stared at the pavement.
“I don't know.”
“When did you last see her?”
“Sixty-three days.”
Ethan swallowed.
“You counted?”
“Yes.”
“What happened?”
Lily’s lip trembled.
But she refused to cry.
“My mom worked nights.”
“At a hospital?”
“Not anymore.”
“She used to.”
Lily knew more than an eight-year-old should.
Grace had been working for an elderly woman named Helen Ward.
Private nursing.
Helen lived in a large house in Evanston.
One evening Grace arrived home terrified.
She packed clothing.
Documents.
Cash.
She told Lily they were going somewhere safe.
They made it to a motel.
Two nights later, Grace left to meet someone.
She never returned.
“Why didn't you call police?”
“I did.”
Lily’s voice dropped.
“They said Mom left.”
“Left you?”
She nodded.
“They said grown-ups do that.”
Ethan’s jaw tightened.
“Your mom wouldn't?”
“No.”
“You're sure?”
“She promised.”
That was enough for Ethan.
“What happened after the motel?”
“They made me go with people.”
“Foster care?”
Lily nodded.
“I ran away.”
“Why?”
Her face closed.
Ethan did not push.
Not yet.
“Your mother told you about me?”
“Lots of times.”
“What did she say?”
Lily studied him.
“That you were a boy who saved her.”
Ethan frowned.
“I don't remember saving anyone.”
“She said your mom did.”
That made more sense.
Lily continued.
“Mom said Rebecca Cole was the bravest person she ever knew.”
Ethan looked away.
His mother had been sick, exhausted and poor.
Brave was not the word people usually used.
Lily reached into her coat.
She pulled out a small photograph.
Rebecca.
Young.
Smiling.
Ethan stopped breathing.
Beside her stood Grace.
Maybe twenty-one.
They were holding babies.
One baby was Ethan.
The other?
Ethan looked at Lily.
“Who is this?”
“My mom said her name was Anna.”
“Your sister?”
Lily shook her head.
“She said Anna died.”
Something about that name hurt.
Ethan didn't understand why.
Then Lily turned over the photograph.
Rebecca’s handwriting covered the back.
Ethan recognized it.
IF ETHAN EVER ASKS, TELL HIM ANNA WAS LOVED.
His hands shook.
“Where did you get this?”
“Mom's bag.”
“What else was in it?”
Lily looked toward the street.
“Nothing.”
She was lying.
Ethan knew.
He leaned closer.
“Lily.”
“No.”
“Your mother disappeared. Someone may have hurt her.”
Lily stood.
“I shouldn't have come.”
Ethan stood too.
“I won't take anything from you.”
“You're going to send me back.”
“To foster care?”
She backed away.
“I knew it.”
“Lily, you're eight.”
“Nine next month.”
“That changes everything.”
She glared.
Ethan softened.
“You can't sleep outside.”
“I know places.”
“That's not the same.”
Her chin trembled.
“People always say safe.”
Ethan stopped.
There it was.
Something had happened in foster care.
He lowered his voice.
“I won't make you go anywhere tonight.”
She looked suspicious.
“You promise?”
“Yes.”
Marcus would probably kill him.
Lily sat again.
Ethan returned to the curb.
They shared the remaining cake.
At 11:42 p.m., Lily finally fell asleep inside Samuel’s upstairs office.
Ethan called Marcus.
“She's here.”
“I'll contact child services.”
“No.”
“Ethan.”
“She’s terrified.”
“We cannot hide a missing child.”
“I know.”
“We need proper custody procedures.”
“I know.”
“But?”
“I need twelve hours.”
Marcus sighed.
“You have six.”
At 5:30 the next morning, Ethan searched the photograph again.
Digital scan.
Image enhancement.
Rebecca.
Grace.
Baby Ethan.
Baby Anna.
A hospital bracelet on Anna’s wrist was partially visible.
Ethan zoomed.
The surname was not Bennett.
Not Cole.
It read:
VALE.
Marcus frowned.
“Vale?”
Ethan went still.
He knew that name.
Everyone in Chicago did.
The Vale family owned one of the largest privately held real-estate fortunes in Illinois.
Old money.
Political connections.
Hospitals.
Foundations.
Universities.
Ethan searched.
Twenty years earlier, one prominent Vale baby had disappeared.
Not Anna.
A six-month-old girl named Amelia Vale.
The official story said Amelia died during an accidental apartment fire while in the care of her nanny.
The nanny?
Grace Bennett.
Ethan stared at the screen.
Grace had been accused of causing the death of a billionaire family's child.
Charges had later been dropped for lack of evidence.
But Grace’s life had been destroyed.
And Rebecca Cole had apparently known the truth.
Lily woke behind them.
She saw the article on the screen.
Her face drained.
“Turn it off.”
Ethan turned.
“Lily?”
“You weren't supposed to find that yet.”
Marcus stood.
“What did your mother tell you?”
Lily began crying.
For the first time.
Real tears.
“She said Anna didn't die.”
Ethan felt cold.
“What?”
“She said Rebecca saved her.”
Ethan stared at the old photograph.
The baby labeled Anna.
The supposedly dead Amelia Vale.
Twenty years ago, his mother had died carrying a secret involving one of the richest families in Chicago.
And now Grace Bennett had vanished after trying to tell someone the truth.
Ethan looked at Lily.
“Where is the rest of your mother's bag?”
Lily wiped her face.
“I hid it.”
“Where?”
“At the place Mom said nobody from the Vale family would ever think to look.”
“Where?”
Lily looked toward the bakery below.
Then whispered:
May you like
“Inside your birthday.”
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