Jillian nodded and lied. “It was on some documents listing out their racial and religious and medicals records. White. Jewish. Which of their parents were still alive. Hereditary diseases. That kind of information.”
“I–I—I didn’t think we ever got their names.”
“It was there,” Jillian insisted. “And we copied their names and started to look up information on them. We just wanted to know if we had any older brothers or sisters.”
Their mother covered her face with her hands, which meant she didn’t want them to know what she was feeling.
Louise ignored the plan and jumped to the point. “Our eggs were from a woman named Esme Shenske. She’s Anna Desmarais’ daughter.”
Jillian frowned at Louise going off-script. It forced her to jump ahead without all their quickly plotted arguments as to why they were right without incriminating themselves more. “That’s why we were robbed. Anna Desmarais is trying to find proof that we’re her granddaughters.”
Louise braced herself for her parents’ outburst. They stood silent for a moment and then looked at each other.
“Just coincidence?” Their mother finally broke the silence.
Their father spread his hands helplessly. “It is damning.”
“What is just coincidence?” Louise asked.
Their parents exchanged a look.
“I don’t think — We don’t know — It’s just going to scare them,” their father stuttered.
Their mother shook her head. “It’s better that they hear it from us first.”
Their father sighed and nodded. “Desmarais is buying my company.”
Louise swallowed down on the fear that jumped up inside her. They’d erased all the information tracing back to them. More importantly, everything that connected Nikola to Esme. At least, everything that was online and easily searched. If the company used offline backup storage of data, then the twins hadn’t gotten everything. Normally no one would have realized that there was a difference between online and offline databases, so the data would be safe. But if Desmarais was buying the company, they could do a more detailed search than anyone normally could.
“Now it could be just coincidence that they’re buying my company,” their father continued. “They own lots of companies. It’s mind-boggling how many they own. Edmond Desmarais is a very, very rich man.”
“They’ve given over three hundred million dollars to charities in New York City over the years,” their mother said.
How much of that was to the Museum of Natural History? If they’d given millions of dollars to the museum, it would explain why Yves Desmarais was walking around it as if he owned the place.
Their father nodded as if this proved something. “And it doesn’t mean that they had anything to do with the robbery. We have no proof, so we can’t go around saying that they did.”
The Flying Monkey at their school was proof that the Desmaraises were closing in on the twins, but Louise and Jillian had agreed not to mention him. Anything related to elves and baby dragons and magic was too dangerous to Nikola to bring to their parents’ attention.
“They took your toothbrushes because they wanted samples of your DNA!” Louise clung to the only proof they had to offer.
“Honey, you don’t know that.” Their father patted Louise on the head like she was still three.
Louise breathed out instead of screaming. “Why else would anyone steal toothbrushes?”
“That is damning, but it’s still not proof.” Their mother took four plates out of the dish cabinet and handed them to Louise. “Dinner is ready. We’re eating.”
Dinner was frozen lasagna, green beans, and a tossed salad. Simple. Inexpensive. Louise wondered what the Flying Monkey was having for dinner. Lobster? Steak? Were the Desmaraises making small talk of murder and kidnapping as they ate on fine china with real silverware instead of stainless steel? What were they planning? Why was Tristan at their school?
That night, Louise dreamed of the babies. They were playing in mud with nothing much more on than underwear. Brown hair and walnut skin and eyes full of mischief. They looked like peas in a pod, but she
“What are you doing?” Louise knelt beside the little boy that had to be Nikola, wondering what were the names of the three little girls.
“We were bored.” Nikola snuggled into her arms, puppy warm and soft, smelling of baby powder. “So we’re looking to see what we can find.”
The string shimmered between his fingers, and she realized it was fiber optics that they were weaving.
“Oh, you have to be careful. People can notice what you’re doing.”
“We’re being careful,” one of the little girls said. It was the same tone and cadence Jillian would have used a few years ago. Full of confidence, not always correct in her assessment of her abilities. “See.” The little girl held up a gleaming web run through her fingers. “This is Flying Monkey Five.”
