Page 41 of Scarred Sunrise

Chapter 18

Lizzie cradledher tiny niece in her arms as Lucy looked on with complete adoration on her face. The new mother was totally besotted with her daughter as she should be, and Lizzie remembered the feeling like it was yesterday. The complete overwhelming love and awe that you had created such perfection.

The sisters had decided to wait out the mission to Cosa together, all of them concerned and knowing the importance of what the men could find at this lab.

Zin had filled them in on the details surrounding the Isle of Cosa and the lab there, and Lizzie and Meg had gone into research mode, looking up the history, the topography, even the myths and legends about the island. Lizzie had called Ava who’d filled in some of the blanks for them too.

Like, the fact it was mentioned as far back as the bronze age with myths of witches and fairies residing on the inhospitable land that had weathered everything the English coast had thrown at it. If it hadn’t been for the fact it was linked to the Divine Watchers, and the birth of the cult that had been bastardised, Lizzie would’ve found the tales romantic.

“Have you heard from Daniel yet?” Lizzie asked Meg, who was carrying a tray of tea and toast into the room. It was early, but none of them had slept well. Luce because of a newborn with a crazy feeding pattern, the others through worry.

Meg shook her head. “Not yet, but I don’t expect to until they get back or are at least on their way home.”

“I could call Will and get an update?” Lucy offered helpfully.

Her daughter was barely a week old and she was already chomping at the bit to be involved. Lucy would never be the mother who went to mums and tots’ groups or coffee mornings unless it was with one of her friends within the group. She was more likely to strap Harlow to her body and do some recon or a gym session.

“No, don’t. I just need to get used to this part of being with Ty.”

“Oh, I almost forgot, having this little monkey has fried every last brain cell,” she smiled as Lizzie handed Harlow over to her mummy, “Will sent me a file on John Smith, and it looks like his name may not be an alias.”

Lizzie sat up straighter. “Really?”

“Yeah, I haven’t looked at it as yet, but it’s in my bag under the baby wipes.”

Lizzie chuckled as she rummaged through the baby bag with cute grey elephants on it. “Only you would have a flash drive with spy secrets and a taser in with your nappies and butt cream.”

“A gun is too dangerous around a baby,” Lucy said deadpan.

Meg laughed and shook her head. “And a taser isn’t?”

“Good point.” Lucy laughed as she let her daughter latch on for her next feed as if she’d been born to do this.

Finding the flash drive, Lizzie moved towards Lucy’s laptop on the side table next to the couch where she sat and plugged it in. With a few clicks, the program opened, and an image filled the screen. Her heart hit her throat and then sunk to her belly like lead as the clear image of a much younger John Smith filled the screen.

“Oh, God.” Lizzie’s hand flew to her mouth as nausea roiled in her belly, a million visions swimming in her head.

“What is it?” Meg was beside her in a second, crouching down, her hand on Lizzie’s back, concern written on her face.

She pointed to the screen, tilting it so Lucy could see it too. “Does that look like Ty?”

Lucy’s mouth gaped a little. “Oh shit!”

“He’s the spitting image of Ty. How did I not see it before?”

“You think Ty knows?” Meg asked, her eyes wide as Liz looked up at her and considered the notion for a moment.

“That John Smith is his father? No. He has no clue, although he spent time with him, worked for him. It makes no sense to me.”

Lucy nodded at the information below the picture. “What does the dossier say?”

“Oh yeah, hang on.” Her eyes began to scan the page.

“Born John Whittaker Smith on the second February nineteen-fifty-two. He was born in Wakefield, West Yorkshire. Father was a coal miner and mother a teacher. He joined the army at seventeen and then four years later, fell off the map. There’s a marriage certificate in nineteen-eighty-two to a Joanne Preedy, and then a death certificate in his name in two thousand and two.”

“Cause of death?” Lucy asked as she drank a glass of milk, her eyes gleaming with the thrill of the hunt.

“Umm.” Lizzie scanned the death certificate. “Car accident.”