Her Stolen Past

by Eason, Lynette

  Mrs. Bradley followed her into the den. “Would you like anything to drink?”

  “No. Thank you.” Mrs. Bradley twisted her hands together in a nervous gesture and took a seat on the couch under the window.

  “What made you decide to call me?” Sonya asked.

  Mrs. Bradley sighed. “A lot of different things. The main one being that if you’re really Heather, then I can’t ignore that.”

  “The DNA test was very conclusive.”

  “Yes, I know.”

  “Is that why you’re here?”

  “I came to find out what you want.”

  Sonya bit her lip. Then sighed. “I really don’t want anything. At least not from you. All I wanted was to find out who Heather Bradley was. I wanted to find out why my mother would have her birth certificate and baby bag in her closet. So I hired someone to find out.” She stood and paced to the mantel, then back. “Then someone tried to kill me.” She held her hands up, beseeching. “Now I’d like to find out who wants me dead. Is that too much to ask?”

  “But who?” Mrs. Bradley leaned forward and some of her resistance seemed to fade.

  Sonya eyed the woman who was her mother. “You tell me. It’s only when we started poking into your family that the assaults started.”

  Mrs. Bradley pursed her lips. “I can’t think of a soul who would do such a thing.”

  Silence dropped around them like a scratchy blanket. Sonya shifted. “Look, if this is making you uncomfortable, we don’t have to do this. I know you don’t want to believe I’m your daughter and that’s okay.”

  “You’re not my daughter.”

  “Even though the DNA test proves I’m Heather?”

  “Yes, even though.”

  “I’m confused. If I’m not your daughter, then why does the DNA prove I’m Heather?”

  Mrs. Bradley hesitated then rubbed a hand across her eyes. “Sonya, I believe you’re Heather. And you were supposed to grow up as Heather Bradley, but I didn’t…give birth to you. We adopted you.”

  Sonya froze and let that statement sink in. “Okay.” She shook her head. “Can you please explain?”

  Mrs. Bradley nodded. “It’s a rather long and crazy story, but you’re actually my niece. We adopted you from my sister.”

  “The one who died?” Strangely, Sonya felt nothing. No shock, no sorrow, nothing. She wondered if she had maxed out on emotional overload.

  “Yes.”

  Sonya swallowed hard. “Did she really fall down the stairs?”

  Mrs. Bradley teared up. “Yes, I think she really did. The carpet was messed up at the top and she was always warning me or guests to be careful.” She gave a sad shrug. “I’d been by to see her that morning and she was fine physically. Emotionally was another story. Anyway, later that afternoon she was dead.”

  “So she was my birth mother,” Sonya whispered.

  “Yes.”

  “Who’s my birth father?”

  The woman shrugged. “I don’t know. She never told me. All she said about him was that he was married and they weren’t going to see each other anymore. And he didn’t want the baby.”

  “So you adopted Heather. Me.”

  “Yes.”

  Sonya’s head started to throb.

  *

  Brandon’s phone rang. “Hello?”

  “This is Don Bradley. You called?” The short clipped words took Brandon by surprise.

  “I did. You sound busy. Is this a bad time?” Brandon tried to be gracious even though the man had called him.

  “No.” Don cleared his throat. “No. Sorry. I just had a rough meeting. What can I do for you?”

  “We’ve come across some more information and need your input.”

  “What is it?”

  “I’m just going to come right out and ask. Was Heather your niece and not your daughter?”

  Silence rippled across the phone line, and Brandon almost wished he’d gone to see the man in person. Then a heavy sigh filled his ear. “Why do you ask?”

  Brandon told him what Hector had discovered.

  More silence. “I see.”

  “What do you see?”

  “Sometimes when you keep a secret for so long, you start to believe the lies you told.”

  “What lies, sir?”

  “I’m just not sure I see the point in—”

  “A simple DNA test comparing Sonya’s to your wife’s sister’s will be all it takes to find out. We’re also going to want a DNA test to compare yours and your wife’s to Sonya’s.”

  “Why would you need ours?” The man’s wariness came through loud and clear.

  Brandon was bluffing. He had no grounds to stand on to ask for a DNA sample, but if he had the DNA from all parties involved, maybe he could get some answers for Sonya. “To find out who she’s related to without question. Would you be willing to come in and offer a sample?”

  Another heavy sigh. “I don’t need to offer a sample. I guess the truth always finds a way to surface, doesn’t it?” He paused. Brandon wondered if he was going to speak again. Finally, the man said, “Yes, she’s my daughter.” He hesitated again. Again, Brandon waited him out. “But,” Don finally said, “she’s not my wife’s.”

  Brandon got it. “You had an affair with your sister-in-law.”

  “I did.”

  “I see.”

  The man sighed. “It wasn’t an ongoing thing. It was actually a one-time thing. Ann was at the gym like always. Miriam stopped by and we talked, had a few drinks. She started crying about being lonely—” The pause drew out and Brandon could almost picture the man gathering his thoughts.

  “And?”

  “I went to comfort her and she kissed me.”

  “And you didn’t push her away.”

  “No,” he said flatly. “I didn’t push her away.”

  “So when she came and told you that she was pregnant with Heather?”

  “I freaked out. But,” he sighed, “Ann and I had been trying to have a baby forever. Once I calmed down and thought about it, I realized this might be our chance.” Another pause as though he was searching for the words. “Each month that went by without a positive pregnancy test sent Ann deeper and deeper into a depression. She dealt with it by spending more and more time at the gym, working out, getting fit, eating healthy. She thought if she kept her body in perfect shape, then it would happen. She’d get pregnant.”

  “But she didn’t.”

  “No. And now I had a baby on the way with her sister.”

  “What did she say when you told her?”

  “We didn’t tell her. Miriam went to Ann and told her she was pregnant, but refused to tell her who the father was, just saying he was married, but wasn’t in the picture anymore. She said that she couldn’t raise the child by herself and would Ann and I be willing to take the baby.”

  “And Ann said yes.”

  “Not at first. She was afraid Miriam would change her mind, but Miriam didn’t want the baby. She made that clear. She said she was too young to be a mother and if Ann wouldn’t take it, she was going to see an adoption agency. I pressured Ann that we should do this and Ann finally agreed.”

  “Did Mrs. Bradley ever find out that the baby was yours?”

  “No. Miriam would never say anything. She knew Ann wouldn’t forgive her for that. Ever. And Miriam needed Ann.” He snorted. “Or at least the money Ann poured into her.”

  “You resented the money she gave her sister?”

  “Well, her father had cut her off for a reason. She’d made some pretty bad choices. Her parents had had enough of it and refused to give her any money.”

  “But Ann did.”

  “Yes.”

  Interesting. Brandon asked, “So she gave you the baby.”

  “She did. She had a home birth and a midwife. She just handed Heather to Ann when it was over. My lawyer took care of everything else. It was a private adoption with very little paperwork. But everything was straight up and legal.”

&nbs
p; “Who did she name as the father? The father would have had to agree to the adoption.”

  “Not if you claim you don’t know who the father is.”

  Everything sounded as if it had been done legally, just as he’d said.

  “So who would benefit from having Sonya out of the picture?”

  “Now, that I don’t know.” He cleared his throat. “And I would very much appreciate it if you would keep all of this confidential. I don’t want Ann to find out. Ever. It would devastate her.” Another slight pause. “And our marriage. My life would be over. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

  “Unfortunately, I do understand, but I honestly can’t make any promises. But I won’t mention it unless I have to.”

  The man’s silence conveyed his unhappiness with Brandon’s answer, but Brandon wasn’t going to make promises he might not be able to keep.

  Brandon hung up with Mr. Bradley and flipped back to the front of the file. They’d put every scrap of information about the case into one place. He turned over page after page after page. And stopped when he came to the pictures of the car with the rifle. The one the shooter had used in the parking garage. The forensics team had gone through the vehicle with a fine-tooth comb and had photographed everything.

  One picture stopped him.

  “Hey, Hector.”

  “Yeah?”

  “This guy worked at Gold Star Gym, right?”

  Hector looked over his shoulder. “Yes. So?”

  “So I’ve seen this emblem before.” He pointed to the gold star on the man’s identification badge.

  “Where?”

  “On Mrs. Bradley’s gym bag.”

  “Oh, boy.”

  Brandon had another thought. “Check and see if Mrs. Bradley showed up for her appointment with her trainer at the gym the day Ms. Gold, the nanny, was killed. I’m calling Max and telling him to get inside with Sonya.”

  Hector got on his phone while Brandon called Max. When Max got on the line, Brandon said, “I don’t have time for details. Just get inside with Sonya. Mrs. Bradley looks good for the one who’s been trying to kill her. Be careful. Hector and I are on the way.”

  He stood as Hector hung up the phone. The grim look in his eyes didn’t bode well. “What is it?”

  “She never showed up. In fact, she hasn’t been to the gym for the past two days. And guess who her trainer was?”

  “Our shooter?”

  “The one and only.”

  *

  Sonya’s phone rang and she flinched. “Excuse me a moment, please.”

  “Of course,” Mrs. Bradley said.

  She grabbed the device. “Hello?”

  “Sonya, this is Brandon. Are you all right?”

  Her heart thudded at his voice and his face came immediately to mind. “Yes, I’m fine.”

  “Max texted me that Mrs. Bradley was coming by. Is she there yet?”

  Sonya glanced at her visitor. “Yes, we were just talking. I’ve learned some pretty interesting things.”

  “Okay, don’t react to what I’m going to tell you, all right?”

  Sonya swallowed, but hoped she kept her face expressionless. “Okay.”

  “I’ve asked Max to come inside with you. It looks like Mrs. Bradley is the one who hired someone to kill you.”

  Sonya couldn’t help the small gasp that slipped out. She glanced at the woman who was watching her, head tilted, eyes narrowed. She quickly turned away. “Okay. Why do you think that?”

  “The shooter was her trainer at the gym. He had a bit of a shady past and we think she hired him to kill you. And, Sonya—”

  “Yes?”

  “Don Bradley just told me that he and Ann adopted you from Ann’s sister.”

  “I know,” she whispered. “Right before your call, Ann revealed I was Miriam’s daughter. But she never learned who my father was.”

  “Sonya…” Brandon hesitated. “Don Bradley is your biological father. He had an affair with Ann’s sister.” Sonya gasped. Her knees weakened.

  “I know it’s a shock,” Brandon said, his compassion ringing through the line. “I’m heading that way now.”

  Sonya felt a small kernel of fear start to replace her shock. “That’s fine.”

  There was a knock on the door. Sonya crossed the room and glanced out the window. “Max is at the door.”

  “Let him in,” Brandon said. “I’m already in the car. I’ll be there in less than ten minutes. I’ve also got backup on the way.”

  Sonya reached for the lock and wondered if Mrs. Bradley would try to stop her. She unlocked the door and twisted the knob. Mrs. Bradley didn’t move.

  Max stepped in and shut the door behind him.

  Now the woman stood. “What’s going on?”

  Max eyed her. “That’s what we want to know. Why are you trying to kill Sonya?”

  Mrs. Bradley gaped. “What? Try to kill her? Are you out of your mind?”

  The door burst in. Max started to turn and a gunshot rent the air. Max went down. Sonya screamed.

  NINETEEN

  Sonya dropped to her knees beside Max, who lay facedown. He groaned and tried to roll, then dropped back to the floor. “Max!”

  A hard grip on her upper arm yanked her to her feet. The gun in her face sent terror racing through her. She lifted her eyes to the man behind the weapon and gasped.

  Don Bradley.

  “What are you doing?” Sonya cried.

  “Taking care of things.” He turned to his wife.

  The woman stood pale and shaking, her brown eyes wide, blank.

  Shock.

  “Get in the car.” Don shoved her toward the door and Sonya almost tripped over Max.

  “What about Max?”

  Another hard shove in the small of her back sent her stumbling toward the door. “Hopefully, he’ll die where he is.” He aimed the weapon at Max. “Another bullet ought to take care of that.”

  Sonya whirled and hurled herself at him. “No!” She slammed into the arm that held the gun and Don went to his knees as he lost his grip. The weapon skittered across the hardwood floor and hit the edge of the brick fireplace.

  Sonya dived for the gun. “Ann, run!”

  A hard grip wrapped around her ankle and yanked. She lost her balance and rolled. Don regained his footing, grabbed the gun, aimed it at her and pulled the trigger.

  The loud crack echoed. Sonya felt the bullet whiz past her face and froze. Don approached and shoved her up against the wall, fingers wrapped around her throat. “Get. In. The. Car.”

  Stars whirled in front of her eyes and darkness flirted at the edges of her mind.

  Then she was free and gasping in air. Her already bruised throat throbbed in time to her heartbeat. His fingers tangled themselves in her hair as he dragged her to the door.

  Ann still stood staring, eyes wide and blank.

  Don shoved with the gun. “Get in the car, Ann. The backseat. I’m going to take care of this.”

  Ann walked out the door.

  Pain ratcheted through her head, her throat, her neck. Everywhere. He pulled and she had no choice but to follow. Within seconds, Ann slipped into the backseat and Don opened the driver’s door. “Crawl over.”

  The black BMW was large and roomy, and Sonya had no trouble slipping into the front passenger seat. All the while aware of the gun pointed at her. She glanced in the rearview mirror, the side mirror. Where was Brandon?

  She looked at the clock. The entire incident in her house had taken less than five minutes.

  Don held the gun in his left hand while he started the car with his right. “Just had to butt in,” he muttered. “You just couldn’t leave the past in the past, could you?”

  She stared at him. “All I wanted to do was find Heather Bradley.”

  “And all I wanted was for her to stay gone.”

  *

  Brandon pulled to the curb behind Max’s car. Sonya’s scream and subsequent click of the phone disconnecting had sent terror shoo
ting through him.

  Blue lights at the end of the street flashed the impending arrival of other officers. Brandon reported in his position, knowing the dispatcher would inform the other officers nearby.

  Ann Bradley’s vehicle was parked in Sonya’s driveway. Max’s car still sat at the curb. “Why isn’t Max answering his phone?” Hector muttered.

  Worry beat at Brandon. He wondered the same thing. Max hadn’t answered his phone for the past seven minutes.

  Jordan’s brand-new SUV pulled up the rear.

  Brandon climbed from his car and heard Hector’s door slam. He pulled his weapon and held it close as he approached the front door. He rapped his knuckles on the wood.

  No answer. “Sonya?”

  Jordan motioned he would check the garage.

  Hector stayed close. “You think she’s in trouble?”

  “She screamed. Then the phone cut off.”

  “Could have been a mouse.”

  “That would be good news.”

  “Yeah, I don’t think so, either.”

  Jordan returned. “Garage has a vehicle in it.” Brandon rapped on the door again, then twisted the knob.

  Unlocked.

  He stepped inside. “Max!” He strode to his friend, the bloodstain on his back sending another bolt of fear through him. “Call for an ambulance.”

  Jordan was already on the phone by the time Brandon dropped to his knees to feel for a pulse. Faint, but steady. Relief made him shudder.

  Then he spotted a cell phone wedged under the side of Max’s abdomen. He pulled it out and held it up. “It’s Sonya’s,” he told Jordan.

  “That’s not good.”

  Hector and two uniformed officers returned to the den. “All clear,” Hector said. “How’s he doing?”

  “He needs a hospital,” Brandon said.

  An officer waved at Brandon. “We just got a 911 call from a neighbor on this street. A Mr. Tobias. Shots heard.”

  “Did he see anything?”

  “No, said he was in the back of the house and thought it might have been a car backfiring, but then he decided to check it out. By the time he got to the window, he saw a car at the end of the street, but couldn’t make it out.”

  Brandon ran a hand through his hair. “How am I supposed to find her?” He paced, thinking.

  “Officer? Hey, let me through!”