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His mom had rented one unit of a fourplex, and over the years of living there, she had accumulated enough belongings he’d have to get help to haul it all out. Her couch was nicer than his but the wrong color.
And not what he was here for, even if his mind wanted to ignore the feelings and dispassionately catalog things.
He leaned against the entryway wall and stared at the living room and kitchen area. Her tiny round table and single chair gave him the idea she didn’t entertain much—or only sat alone at the table. He’d come here a couple of times since she moved in, once when he’d driven her home after she was released from the hospital the first time her heart gave out. She’d dumped her bag and told him to get lost.
Invading her space felt like an act of defiance, even if she was no longer here. As if he would always struggle against who she’d been.
His heart was supposed to be full of God’s love now so that he could offer forgiveness to anyone who needed it. His mom didn’t need to receive it, wherever she was now. Gage still needed to offer it—for his own sake.
He moved through the house, but it seemed far too weird to be in his mom’s bedroom. Gage settled in the recliner in the spare room where she’d put a bookshelf with books and file boxes. Beside the chair she’d left a library book with a bookmark inserted halfway. A novel she’d never finished—that was probably late now. He’d need to return it.
Beyond the book on the tiny table, a file box labeled GAGE had been stacked with photo albums.
He slid it out. Rather than discovering secrets about his mother, would he discover ones about himself? His mom had kept plenty to herself, choosing to complain about ways she’d been slighted or other people’s successes and how unfair life was.
The top was a stack of photos—baseball and basketball team pictures. In the fall he’d played football before he decided basketball was better. Patches from track. A couple of race medals. Medical records, invoices for his broken arm in eighth grade. Gage leafed through the papers going further and further back.
He didn’t bother reading the report cards. Or his shot record, though that would’ve been handy to have in his own files.
At the bottom was a manila envelope. Inside was a copy of his birth certificate—and it didn’t look like the version he’d seen. This one listed two middle names and his father’s name.
Gage Winchester Kyrill Deluca.
“That’s my name?” He’d never even heard it before.
The papers he had—his birth certificate and shot record—listed no middle names, which he’d always thought was odd considering that was more common in Europe than the US. His mom always refused to talk about it, like she had better things to do than be his family.
“What on earth?” He stared at the father’s name, and everything he’d ever believed spun on its axis, leaving him reeling. “Alistair McCauley.”
SEVENTEEN
Clare pulled into a parking space at the empty corner of the lot. From here she could walk over the berm and cross the street easily to get to the park where Selena wanted to meet. For some reason, her boyfriend, Alex, needed to talk to Clare.
They’d gone to Vanguard first, according to her receptionist, Sandy. Clare had asked them to come here.
Leaving the crime scene had been the best thing for her. No way could she have actually looked inside at the burned corpse, formerly someone’s family member. A brother. A son. Eventually, Sarah or Gage would have realized.
No one needed to know the issues she had from her time in the army, and for the most part they lay dormant. She knew what her limits were. Even being around that smoke smell had gotten to her after a while, when she’d no longer been able to push it from her mind.
The fact she was going out to see Selena helped a little, except that the young woman looked so much like her mother. At first glance, seeing the two of them at a picnic bench, it could almost have been Kara there with a man.
Clare used the strong, rapid stride to focus her mind and push off all the emotion of being around Gage.
Selena wore the same brand of jeans as the day before, but today they were black. She had a jacket and ball cap, and the hood of her jacket was pulled over the hat.
In similar fashion, Alex had pulled his hoodie up over his head and the beanie that covered his hair. He wore athletic pants and sneakers.
Both of them were in their early twenties. Gage had been right that Selena was the correct age for their child. It wasn’t lost on her that their baby would have been Selena’s peer. Clare tried not to think about that either as she made her way to them.
“Hey.”
Selena started, glancing up from her phone. “Hey.”
Alex twisted to look at her. Clare had never met the guy before, though she’d seen pictures and checked him out online. Both Selena and Alex were recognizable YouTubers with huge followings. Clare didn’t have that app and rarely watched videos online, even though Selena sent her links all the time with emojis that Clare supposed should have explained what she needed to know.
She stuck out her hand. “I’m Clare Juarez.”
He held it for a second. “Alex.”
