Chapter 35 - The Family BibleBy sunrise...
The laboratory called.
The DNA results were ready.
Claire insisted we wait.
The old man sat quietly in the garden.
Watching the ocean.
As though he already knew the answer.
I opened the sealed report.
The first page confirmed exactly what we expected.
Probability of biological relationship: 99.9998%.
The old man was...
Without question...
A Whitmore.
But then I turned the second page.
My hands stopped moving.
Claire noticed immediately.
"What is it?"
I couldn't answer.
She took the report herself.
Then her face drained of color.
The comparison hadn't been between two people.
It had been between three.
The old man.
Me.
And the man buried as Jonathan Whitmore.
The conclusion read:
Both men are biologically related to you.
Silence.
Claire whispered,
"How is that possible?"
The laboratory had added a note.
The two tested men are almost certainly identical twins.
I looked toward the garden.
The old man had never mentioned twins.
He said...
They weren't brothers by blood.
So why did the DNA say otherwise?
Before anyone could question him...
A helicopter landed on the estate.
Federal investigators stepped out.
Their leader carried a sealed warrant.
"We're looking for Jonathan Whitmore."
I pointed toward the garden.
The investigator looked.
Then slowly shook his head.
"Not him."
He handed me an old photograph.
It showed the man who raised me.
My father.
"That's Jonathan Whitmore."
I looked back at the old man.
"Then who is he?"
The investigator's expression turned grave.
"We've been searching for him for thirty-six years."
"He isn't Jonathan Whitmore."
My heart pounded.
"Who is he?"
The investigator spoke quietly.
"His name..."
"...is Elias Mercer."
The old man smiled.
For the first time...
Not sadly.
Knowingly.
"That's the name they gave me."
He stood up.
"But it isn't the name I was born with."
The investigator reached for his handcuffs.
Before anyone could move...
Elias opened the Whitmore family Bible that Adrian had somehow returned to the garden bench only moments earlier.
He turned to the very first page.
A page nobody in the family had ever noticed.
Hidden beneath the leather binding...
Was another birth record.
Not Jonathan Whitmore.
Not Elias Mercer.
Not anyone in our family.
Just three handwritten words.
"Project HEIR — Subject One."
Below it...
Three infant footprints had been pressed into the paper.
Not one.
Not two.
Three.
And next to the third footprint...
Someone had written in fresh black ink only hours earlier:
"Subject Three is still alive."
Everyone stared at the page.
Then every phone in the room vibrated at exactly the same moment.
A single anonymous message appeared on every screen.
May you like
"Stop looking for Jonathan."
"Start looking for the third brother."
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