Page 112 of Hidden Resolution
“Yes.”
“Why?”
He blinked. The truth danced out of reach, weaving in and out, teasing his brain.
Damned drugs!
“I’m not sure,” he admitted. “But it felt important to say.”
“I have a trust fund, yes. But it’s not enough for someone to off me.” Her frown deepened. “Plus, if I were to die, having no husband or children, my estate would revert back to my mother and father.”
The puzzle pieces fitted into place, leaving Mason cold.
“Get your parents on the phone immediately.”
She scrambled for her purse. “I don’t understand.”
“I’ll explain it all at once. Hand me my cell and call your parents from yours. Three-way, if you have to, butdo it.”
He thanked his lucky stars that, for once, she didn’t argue.
“They’re not answering.” She glanced at the clock on the wall. Her expression turned grim. “It’s late there.”
Bucky Whitmore picked up on the second ring.
“Bucky? Hey, it’s Mason. Will you do me a favor? Will you contact the Springdale PD and have them perform wellness checks on both Shonda’s parents?”
“What’s going on, Mason? Does this have to do with the car bomb last month?”
“I believe it does.” Mason explained everything, starting with the break-ins in St. Thomas and ending with the shooting in Thornton. “At first, I thought good old cousin Billy was a fuckup. Now I’m not so sure.”
“Go on,” Bucky urged.
“He struck me as desperate for money, for reasons he took to the grave. But I think he was working an angle with Shonda’s sister.”
She gasped.
“Shonda has a sister?” Bucky sounded as startled as she looked.
Mason met her wide-eyed stare with a grimace. “A twin, to be precise. Call in the wellness checks, and then I’ll explain the rest.”
“What are the addresses?”
He handed his phone to Shonda for information forwarding.
“Bucky said he’d call you in about twenty minutes.” She set his phone on the tray and sat down. “What’s going on, Mason? How is it you believe my twin survived? Are you saying my father lied about putting her up for adoption?”
“No. I believe he was telling the truth as he knew it. Remember, he said he was in Italy when your mother went into labor? It struck me as odd when he worded it the way he did.‘By the time I could catch a flight home, you were already tucked into your crib, your sister was gone, and your mother blamed me for everything.’”
Because she seemed receptive to the idea, he continued.
“Why wouldn’t a grieving mother wait for the father to bury their infant daughter together?” he asked. “Why have a funeral without him? The delay wouldn’t have been too long.”
She gasped.
“What?” he asked.
“You said I had a twin in St. Thomas. You saw her at the bar the night of the second break-in.”
