Chapter 13: The Mother We Thought We Had Lost
For several seconds, neither David nor I moved.
The photograph remained on Detective Bennett's phone.
Our mother.
Alive.
The woman we'd buried three years earlier.
The woman whose ashes sat inside a small wooden urn on my living room mantel.
The woman who had held my hand when I identified my father's belongings.
The woman who had cried beside me at every family gathering.
She was standing outside an abandoned chapel, wearing a gray coat and holding a black umbrella.
I looked at David.
"Tell me that's not her.""
He shook his head.
"It's Mom.""
Detective Bennett took the phone back.
"We need to verify this photograph.""
"How?"" I demanded.
"Metadata, location, and the original sender.""
"She says she wants to see us. She's only an hour away.""
"Michael, this could be another trap.""
I pointed at the screen.
"That's my mother.""
"And someone knows exactly how to use that against you.""
David stepped forward.
"We're going.""
Detective Bennett looked at him.
"Not without police protection.""
I nodded.
"Fine. But we're not waiting.""
She made several calls.
Within twenty minutes, an unmarked vehicle was arranged, and two officers were assigned to accompany us.
The chapel stood on a hill outside a small town.
It had once belonged to our grandfather, who had donated it to the community before his death. My parents used to take us there every Sunday when we were children.
After my father's supposed accident, my mother stopped going.
She told us the building reminded her too much of happier times.
Now we were returning because she had asked us to come.
As the vehicle climbed the narrow road, David sat beside me.
He hadn't spoken for nearly twenty minutes.
Finally, he whispered, "Do you remember when Mom used to make us wait outside her bedroom?""
I nodded.
"She said she was praying.""
David looked through the window.
"Sometimes I heard her crying.""
I remembered.
After our father's death, she would lock herself away for hours. We thought she was grieving.
Maybe she had been.
Or maybe she was terrified.
The vehicle stopped near the chapel.
Detective Bennett raised her hand.
"Stay behind us until we confirm the area is secure.""
I stepped out.
The air smelled of wet grass and pine trees.
The chapel's wooden doors were slightly open.
Then I saw her.
She was standing beside the old stone fountain.
Her hair had turned completely gray.
Her face was thinner, and she leaned heavily on a walking stick.
But when she looked up, I saw the same brown eyes that had watched me take my first steps.
"Michael?""
My throat tightened.
"Mom?""
She began crying.
David ran toward her.
"Mom!""
She dropped the walking stick and reached for him.
They held each other for a long time.
I remained several feet away.
I wanted to run to her.
I wanted to hold her.
I wanted to ask a thousand questions.
But one question kept repeating in my head.
Why?
My mother finally looked at me.
"Come here, sweetheart.""
I didn't move.
She lowered her hand.
"I know you hate me.""
I swallowed.
"I don't know what I feel.""
She nodded.
"That's fair.""
Detective Bennett approached.
"Mrs. Carter, we need to speak with you about several matters.""
My mother looked at her.
"I know.""
"Are you aware that your death was officially recorded three years ago?""
She closed her eyes.
"Yes.""
"Who arranged it?""
"Richard.""
David stared at her.
"You let us bury an empty urn?""
My mother began crying harder.
"I didn't know what else to do.""
I felt something inside me break.
"Mom, we spent three years grieving you.""
"I know.""
"I stood in front of that urn and talked to you.""
She covered her mouth.
"I know, Michael.""
"Do you?""
My voice rose.
"Do you know what it felt like to lose you after losing Dad? Do you know what it was like to tell Emily that her grandmother was in heaven?""
My mother lowered her head.
"I'm sorry.""
I shook mine.
"Why did you do it?""
She looked toward the chapel.
"Because I was afraid Richard would kill me.""
Detective Bennett opened her notebook.
"Start from the beginning.""
My mother took a shaky breath.
"Twelve years ago, your father discovered the property fraud. He confronted Robert and Richard. I knew about the business, but I didn't understand how much money they were stealing.""
"Did you give them the documents?"" I asked.
She nodded.
"Yes.""
David stepped away from her.
"Why?""
"Your father had threatened to report them. Richard told me that if the police found those records, everyone in the family would be investigated.""
"So you helped him?""
"I thought I was protecting you.""
I laughed without humor.
"By helping them kill Dad?""
Her face crumpled.
"I didn't know they were going to kill him.""
"Then what happened?""
She looked directly at me.
"Your father escaped the first attempt. He came home that night and told me everything. He wanted us to leave immediately.""
"Why didn't we?""
"Because Richard had already taken David.""
My brother froze.
"What?""
My mother nodded.
"They told me David had been involved in the business. They showed me photographs of him meeting Richard. They said if I didn't cooperate, they would make sure he went to prison.""
David stared at her.
"That was all staged?""
"Yes.""
He stepped backward.
"So you knew I was alive?""
My mother began shaking.
"Not at first. I thought you had died.""
"Then why didn't you look for me?""
She closed her eyes.
"Because Richard came to me with a deal.""
"What deal?""
"He said if I disappeared, he'd leave Michael and his family alone.""
I felt cold.
"So you faked your death?""
She nodded.
"He arranged the funeral. He told me the urn contained my ashes, but it was empty. I was moved to another state under a different name.""
David stared at her.
"And you never contacted us?""
"I was watched.""
"Every single day for three years?""
She shook her head.
"No.""
The silence was unbearable.
My mother wiped her cheeks.
"I could have contacted you. I was afraid, but I could have tried.""
I looked away.
That admission hurt more than anything else.
Detective Bennett stepped closer.
"Mrs. Carter, do you know where the original evidence is?""
My mother nodded.
"Your father hid it beneath the chapel floor.""
David looked toward the building.
"The recording said that.""
She nodded.
"But there's something else.""
She reached into her coat and removed a small envelope.
"Your father left this for Michael.""
I took it.
Inside was a photograph of Emily.
She was a baby, sleeping against my chest.
On the back, my father had written:
*A good father protects his children, even when nobody believes him.*
My eyes filled.
Then my mother spoke.
"Michael, Richard isn't the only person you need to be afraid of.""
I turned.
"What do you mean?""
She looked toward the road.
"Robert Carter didn't die of cancer.""
I stared at her.
"Sarah's father?""
She nodded.
"He was murdered two months before his death. Richard poisoned him because he wanted the original property records.""
Detective Bennett immediately raised her radio.
"All units, we may have another homicide.""
My mother grabbed my arm.
"There's a man who knows everything. He was Robert's personal driver. His name is Thomas Reed.""
David frowned.
"Where is he?""
My mother pointed toward the chapel.
"He was waiting inside.""
Detective Bennett turned sharply.
"Why didn't you say that earlier?""
Before she could move, a gunshot exploded from inside the chapel.
The officers drew their weapons.
My mother screamed.
And from the chapel doorway, a man's voice called out.
"Nobody moves!""
Then he stepped into the sunlight.
He had gray hair.
A scar near his ear.
And a small black star tattooed on his hand.
David whispered one word.
"Mercer.""
Lieutenant James Mercer.
The police officer whose name appeared in my father's documents.
The man who had supposedly helped Richard destroy our family.
He looked directly at me.
"Michael Carter. We finally meet.""
May you like
Then he raised his weapon.
"Now give me the envelope.""
