Chapter 8: The Secret My Mother Took to Her Grave
I stood frozen, holding my phone against my ear.
"Hello?""
Nothing.
"Michael? Are you there?""
The call had ended.
Jace immediately tried calling the number back.
It went straight to voicemail.
My father grabbed my shoulders.
"What did he say?""
I looked at him.
"He said Mom discovered what Richard planned to do with me.""
My father's expression changed.
"What?""
"He said that's why she died.""
Tom slowly lowered himself onto a nearby chair.
"Then there's something else in that toolbox.""
He returned to the workbench and examined the remaining drawers.
The sixth drawer had a false bottom.
Jace noticed a small metal latch underneath the handle.
He pressed it.
A narrow compartment opened.
Inside was a small black notebook and a sealed envelope.
My name was written on the envelope.
This time, the handwriting wasn't my mother's.
It belonged to Walter.
Tom handed it to me.
"Open it.""
I carefully removed the paper.
Emily,
If you're reading this, then someone has finally brought you to the truth.
Your mother asked me to keep something safe. It concerns a decision Richard Hayes made before she died.
I couldn't tell your father because I didn't know who he could trust.
Read the notebook. Then ask Tom about the little girl in the hospital photograph.
I looked up.
"Hospital photograph?""
Tom took the black notebook.
He opened it carefully.
The pages were filled with handwritten dates, account numbers, and names.
Several pages had been marked with red ink.
One name appeared repeatedly.
Richard Hayes.
Another appeared beside it.
Linda Parker.
Then I found a photograph tucked between two pages.
It showed a hospital room.
My mother was sitting beside a small hospital bed.
A little girl lay beneath a white blanket.
The child looked about seven years old.
I turned the photograph over.
Sarah Bennett. March 2009.
I looked at Tom.
"Who is Sarah?""
He glanced at the photograph.
"Michael's daughter.""
"Why was Mom visiting her?""
Tom hesitated.
"Sarah was seriously ill. Her medical treatment was expensive. Your mother helped raise money for her care through the charity.""
I studied the girl's face.
"Did she survive?""
Tom didn't answer.
My father looked toward the floor.
"Emily, your mother discovered that Richard was using the charity's emergency medical fund to pay for private expenses. Sarah's treatment was one of the first things affected.""
I felt sick.
"So he stole money from a sick little girl?""
My father nodded.
"Michael confronted him. Richard promised the money would be returned. It never was.""
I turned another page.
There was a handwritten entry dated two days before my mother's death.
Richard has a list of children connected to the foundation. He believes their families can be pressured into silence.
My hands began shaking.
"Why is my name here?""
Tom leaned closer.
"Keep reading.""
The next line was underlined twice.
Emily Parker — daughter of John and Margaret Parker.
Beside my name was a note.
Potential leverage.
I felt the blood drain from my face.
"Leverage?""
My father pulled the notebook toward himself.
"Richard wanted to use you to force your mother and me to stop investigating.""
"But Mom wouldn't stop.""
"No.""
My father closed his eyes.
"She refused.""
I looked at the hospital photograph again.
"Then why didn't Richard just threaten us?""
Tom answered quietly.
"Because your mother had already copied the records and arranged to give them to a federal investigator.""
I looked up.
"She was going to report him?""
"Yes. She was meeting the investigator on the night she died.""
My father sat down heavily.
"I thought she was going to meet Linda.""
Tom shook his head.
"That's what Linda told you.""
I stared at him.
"Then who was she really meeting?""
Tom opened the notebook to the last page.
A name had been written there.
Agent Rebecca Collins.
Beneath it was a phone number.
Jace immediately searched the name.
"There's a Rebecca Collins who worked financial crimes in Nashville. She's retired now.""
"Can you contact her?"" my father asked.
"I'm trying.""
While Jace searched, I examined the notebook.
Something fell from between the pages.
A small hospital wristband.
It was yellowed with age.
The name printed on it was Sarah Bennett.
But the date was different from the photograph.
November 2011.
I looked at Tom.
"Why is this dated after my mother died?""
He took the wristband from me.
His hands began trembling.
"That's impossible.""
"What?""
He turned it over.
There was a handwritten note on the back.
Patient transferred under witness protection. Do not disclose location.
I stared at him.
"Sarah was alive?""
Tom nodded slowly.
"Apparently.""
My phone vibrated.
A text message appeared.
This time, it came from the same unknown number.
Michael wants to meet you. Tomorrow. Alone.
I showed it to my father.
"Absolutely not," he said immediately.
"But he's the only person who knows what happened.""
"And that's exactly why you aren't going anywhere alone.""
Another message appeared.
Bring the photograph of Sarah. She deserves to know her daughter is alive.
I looked at Tom.
"His daughter?""
Tom nodded.
"Michael must have learned that Sarah survived.""
Jace put his phone down.
"I found Rebecca Collins. She's willing to speak with us, but she wants to see the original documents.""
My father stood.
"Then we'll go to her.""
I picked up the hospital photograph.
Something about it bothered me.
The little girl had a bracelet around her wrist.
A tiny silver heart.
I recognized it.
My mother had worn an identical one for years.
I turned the photograph over again.
There was another line beneath the date.
Emily and Sarah — together, before the transfer.
I looked at Tom.
"Why does this say my name?""
He stared at the photograph.
Then he turned toward my father.
"John, did you ever tell Emily about the hospital visit?""
My father shook his head.
"I thought she was too young to remember.""
I frowned.
"What hospital visit?""
He reached into his wallet and removed an old photograph.
It showed my mother holding me as a baby.
Beside her stood another woman holding a little girl.
The woman was Michael's wife.
The little girl was Sarah.
My father looked at me.
"Your mother and Michael's wife were best friends. You and Sarah were born three weeks apart.""
I stared at the two children.
Then I noticed something.
The little girl beside me had the same distinctive birthmark near her left eyebrow.
I had one too.
I touched my forehead.
"Why do we look so much alike?""
Nobody answered.
Then Tom said something that made the entire room go silent.
"Because Emily, your mother and Michael's wife were sisters.""
I stared at him.
"That's impossible.""
My father slowly shook his head.
"No, sweetheart. It's true.""
I looked at the photograph again.
Two women.
Two babies.
One family.
May you like
And suddenly, the question wasn't just what Richard had done to my mother.
It was why he'd been so desperate to keep two little girls apart.
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