Mr. Robinson sighed. "Yes. You were put in foster care since you were four and I adopted you."

"I knew it. Why didn't you tell me?"

"I wanted us to be a family. I didn't want you to think I didn't care about you because you weren't my child."

"Dad...why do I get the feeling the you're not telling me something?"

"What?"

"The note. You know something about it, don't you?"

Mr. Robinson sighed. "I guess you had to find out sometime," He muttered, heading for the living room. Veronica stood up and followed him.

"Veronica, I know that you were given to a neighbor of your parents'."

"Why?" Veronica asked.

"Your father was a criminal. A maniac who killed people. He was wanted from different states. His wife was terrified of him, and she dared not try to escape him. She knew he would kill her if she wanted a divorce, and would find her if she escaped."

"What a jerk!"

"Anyway, your mother had you, and she was incredibly worried. Your father was crazy. He beat you and your mother. For three years your mother put up with it. Finally, she decided to take a dangerous risk. She drugged you. Gave you sleeping medicine so you wouldn't make a sound. Then she wrapped you in clothing and told your father she was going to do laundry. But she gave you to a friend, and with a heavy heart, fled for her life. The only consolation was that you would not lose your life, as she surely would lose hers."

Veronica let the facts sink in. "The one who sent the notes...do you think it was my real father?"

"Yes, I'm almost sure it was him."

"Oh my God," Veronica was stunned. Shocked. But then she saw tears brimming in her fathers eyes.