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As Olivia thought about Jackson's parentage, her brow furrowed in thought. Her gaze was distant as she weighed the possibilities. Internally, her mind raced with questions and uncertainties. “How can we find out for sure about Jackson's paternity and maternity? Is there any way to confirm it definitively?”
Molly’s voice broke through her reverie, pulling her back to the present moment. “With the advancements in DNA testing now, we could certainly reexamine the evidence,” she suggested, her tone thoughtful and measured. “Modern DNA analysis is far more accurate than the methods used back then. It might give us a clearer picture. Does Jackson know what you're thinking?”
“So, how?” Liv inquired, her eagerness palpable.
“We could explore other ways, like finding any stored samples from the case or locating potential relatives for comparison,” Molly talked through possibilities. “Does Jackson know?”
“And what if there's no direct evidence or living relatives?”
Molly's response was steady and reassuring. “Look into historical records, family histories,” she suggested. “But first talk to Jackson.”
“Would that give us a definite answer?” Liv was starting to sound frantic.
“It might not provide absolute certainty, but it could certainly narrow down the possibilities. It's a complex process, Liv, especially with the time that's passed.”
“What if we exhume the bodies from the original fire?”
“First, it’s me who does the exhumations.” She sighed. “That would be a huge step, Liv. You need to speak with Jackson first. If you don’t believe me, run it past Michael. And if not him, call Brad.”
Liv stayed quiet.
“Are you listening to me? You used to get like this when you wanted Mom to give you something. One-minded. YOU NEED TO TALK TO JACKSON.”
Molly’s raised voice brought her out of her frenzy. “You’re right. I’ll talk to Jackson. I’m stymied. I’ve got dead council members. I’ve got cryptic notes about a phoenix. Jackson was found at the site where the first body was discovered. The connection between Jackson and those deaths, his true parentage... it might all be tied together.”
“You’re sure there’s a connection?”
Liv didn’t answer.
“Liv, there are a lot of cogs in this. You need to figure out, was Rainey really an Ashcroft? Why did she use the Bradshaw name? Who was Jackson’s birth father? And you need to prove it.”
Liv stayed quiet.
“Just promise me you'll tread cautiously, Liv.
“Thank you, Molly. I'll figure something out.”
“Just be careful. This could open up a huge can of worms.”
Twelve
Jackson entered the bedroom, a towel wrapped around his waist, the scent of her vanilla soap lingering in the air. As he settled down next to Liv, she couldn't help but notice the clarity in his eyes. She swallowed hard, steeling herself for the conversation that lay ahead.
“Liv?”
Taking a deep breath, she placed two fingers against his lips then began to speak, her voice steady despite the nervous fluttering in her stomach. She relayed the information Molly had uncovered about the identities of the three deceased individuals, her words careful and measured.
“They were all members of the town council with our fathers.” She caressed his cheek. “I have so many questions—about the Waverlys, about the Ashcrofts... It might stir up old wounds, especially with the history between the families. But I don’t want to hurt you or your mom.”
She explained her desire to delve deeper into the town's history, and possibly Jackson's own, in search of answers.
“I know the Waverlys and the Ashcrofts were the founding families of Waverly Junction. There's a history there, a tangled one. A financial one. The Waverlys allegedly bankrupted the Ashcrofts, and that should be part of the investigation. I believe that was what the original arson was about. Aren’t these things always about money?” His lips twitched up as she continued, “I also think we need to look into the arson that killed our fathers. I hate to think that may be part of this too.”
Jackson turned his lips to her palm. “It's a whole chapter of my life I never looked at. These fires are forcing me to search out the answers.” He wrapped his arms around her and shuddered.
“I'm sorry. I didn't mean to stir up something uncomfortable.” Liv reached for his hand.
“No, it's okay. We have to ask these questions, and we need to know.” He squeezed her gently. “I guess… I have to admit, I’ve always felt this emptiness, driven by the mystery of where I come from. But I tucked it away. I didn’t want to hurt my folks. Maybe finding out more about these families will help me fill in some of those gaps. And answer what these fires and deaths are about.”
