Chapter 10: The Truth My Mother Buried
Detective Bennett refused to let me go anywhere alone.
Within twenty minutes, she had assembled a team of officers, arranged surveillance around the old Carter property, and ordered a search warrant for the address listed in the medical records.
But I couldn't stop thinking about that handwritten note.
Patient requested contact with son. Contact denied by Evelyn Carter.
My mother had known my father was alive.
She had visited him.
She had received his letters.
And apparently, she had refused to let him see me.
I sat in the back of the police vehicle while Grace sat beside me.
Neither of us spoke for several minutes.
Finally, I turned toward her.
"Did you know my mother refused his requests?""
Grace nodded.
"Yes.""
"How long?""
"Since I found the records four years ago.""
I stared at her.
"And you never thought to tell me?""
"I tried.""
"When?""
"After I discovered where your father was being treated. I called you twice. Your mother answered both times.""
My stomach tightened.
"What did she say?""
"She told me you didn't want to hear anything about him.""
I looked out the window.
That sounded like my mother.
Not because it was true, but because she had always believed she knew what was best for me.
"Why would she do that?""
Grace shook her head.
"I think you need to ask her.""
We arrived at the old property shortly before one in the morning.
The house looked abandoned.
The front porch light was broken. The windows were covered with dust, and weeds had grown through the cracks in the driveway.
Detective Bennett approached the entrance with two officers.
"Police! Open the door!""
Nothing.
She tried the handle.
Unlocked.
We entered.
The smell of old furniture and damp wood filled the hallway.
I walked toward the living room.
Everything looked familiar, but something was different.
The green sofa had been removed.
The fireplace was empty.
And the grandfather clock was gone.
I stopped near the staircase.
"She brought him here.""
Grace looked at me.
"Who?""
"My mother. The medical records say my father was transferred here.""
Detective Bennett examined the hallway.
"There's a basement?""
I nodded.
"Behind the kitchen.""
We found the door partially hidden by a wooden cabinet.
The lock had been replaced recently.
One officer forced it open.
A narrow staircase descended into darkness.
The smell of antiseptic drifted upward.
I felt my heart begin to pound.
"Hello?"" I called.
A faint sound came from below.
Three knocks.
Then silence.
I ran down the stairs.
At the bottom was a small room with a hospital bed, a medical monitor, and several empty oxygen tanks.
There was a photograph on the bedside table.
My father.
Sitting in a chair.
Alive.
The photograph had been taken recently.
I picked it up.
On the back was a handwritten message.
I'm sorry, Michael. I tried.
Grace covered her mouth.
Detective Bennett examined the bed.
"Someone was here recently.""
A second officer opened a cabinet.
Inside were medication bottles, medical records, and a stack of unopened envelopes.
Every envelope was addressed to me.
I opened one.
The first line made my knees weak.
My son, I don't know whether your mother will ever allow you to read this.
I kept reading.
She believes keeping us apart is the only way to keep you safe. I understand why she is afraid, but I cannot spend another year watching you grow up through photographs.
My hands shook.
There is something I must tell you about the night of the accident. Your mother did not cause it. But she knows who did.
I stopped reading.
Detective Bennett stepped closer.
"Michael?""
I handed her the letter.
She read it carefully.
Then she looked toward the stairs.
"We need to find Evelyn.""
A noise came from the hallway.
Footsteps.
We turned.
An officer appeared at the bottom of the stairs.
"Detective! We found a vehicle outside.""
"Who?""
"Registered to Evelyn Carter.""
I ran upstairs.
The car was parked behind the house.
The driver's door was open.
On the passenger seat was a bloodstained scarf.
My mother's scarf.
I picked it up.
Then I noticed a folded piece of paper beneath it.
The handwriting was hers.
Michael, if you're reading this, I'm sorry.
I opened it.
Your father did not stay away because Richard threatened him. He stayed away because I asked him to.
I felt the air leave my lungs.
The letter continued.
I thought I was protecting you. But I was also protecting myself.
At the bottom, she had written an address.
A small private medical facility outside Albany.
And beneath it:
Your father is there. He knows the truth about Nia. He also knows why I couldn't let him come home.
I looked at Grace.
"She's telling us where he is.""
Detective Bennett took the paper.
"Then that's where we're going.""
My phone rang.
Unknown number.
I answered.
"Michael?""
It was my mother.
"Mom! Where are you?""
Her breathing was uneven.
"Don't come looking for me.""
"Where are you?""
"Listen to me. Your father is alive. But you must not let him tell you everything.""
"Why?""
She began crying.
"Because he'll tell you what I did.""
I gripped the phone.
"What did you do?""
There was a long silence.
Then she whispered:
"I left your father in that hospital because he wanted to give you away.""
The call disconnected.
I stared at the screen.
May you like
My mother had just revealed that the man I had spent twenty-three years mourning had once wanted to surrender custody of me.
And suddenly, I understood why she had been so afraid of the truth.
