Chapter 13: The Brother Who Never Died
I stared at my mother.
“You told me Uncle Robert died in a car accident.””
Mom looked twenty years older.
“That’s what Thomas wanted you to believe.””
“Why?””
Samuel quietly closed the office door.
Hannah remained standing beside the conference table, Rebecca’s journal page in her hand.
Mom sank back into her chair.
“Robert didn’t die.””
“I heard that part.””
My voice came out sharper than I intended.
“Where is he?””
“I don’t know.””
“When did you last see him?””
“Thirty-two years ago.””
I did the math.
I had been twelve.
“What happened?””
Mom looked toward the window.
“Robert discovered the truth about Margaret Bell.””
Hannah stiffened.
“My grandmother?””
“Yes.””
Mom folded her hands.
“Thomas had just learned that your grandfather used money from Margaret’s family to help purchase the land. Robert found out too.””
“And?””
“Robert didn’t want to return anything.””
Samuel leaned forward.
“Did he have an ownership interest?””
“Not officially. Their father had left the land to Thomas.””
“Then why did Robert care?””
Mom gave a sad laugh.
“Because Robert always believed Thomas received everything.””
She looked at me.
“The business. Their father’s approval. The land.””
I remembered almost nothing about my uncle.
A loud voice.
Cigarette smoke.
A red pickup truck.
Then one day he was simply gone.
“What did Dad do?””
“He confronted Robert after discovering he had tried to destroy some of Margaret’s old records.””
Hannah whispered, “Why?””
“Because those records proved where part of the purchase money came from.””
Mom swallowed.
“They fought. Robert left. A few weeks later, Thomas told everyone Robert had died overseas.””
I stared at her.
“And you went along with that?””
“I hated it.””
“But you did it.””
“Yes.””
The word was barely audible.
I stood and walked away from the table.
One night had become an excavation of my entire family.
Every truth had another truth buried beneath it.
“Why didn’t Dad just tell me Robert was estranged?””
“Because Robert threatened him.””
I turned.
“With what?””
“He said if Thomas ever gave Rebecca anything, he would come back and take everything from both of you.””
Hannah looked down at the journal.
“My mother wrote that Robert visited her.””
“When?””
“About seven years ago.””
Mom’s face tightened.
“Before Rebecca died.””
Hannah nodded.
“He asked whether she still had Thomas’s letters. She refused to give them to him.””
Samuel took the journal page.
“What else did Rebecca write?””
“That Robert believed the land belonged to him.””
My phone rang.
Detective Mills.
I answered immediately.
“We have a development,” he said.
“Does it involve Robert Carter?””
Silence.
“How do you know that name?””
My skin prickled.
“Because apparently he’s alive.””
Mills exhaled.
“Michael, stay at Samuel’s office.””
“Why?””
“We found a third party connected to Vale Development.””
“Robert?””
“Someone using the name Robert Charles.””
My father’s brother was Robert Charles Carter.
Mills continued.
“He received consulting payments from Gregory Vale for nearly two years.””
Mom closed her eyes.
“He came back.””
“Where is he now?”” I asked.
“We’re working on that.””
“Did he help forge the transfer?””
“We don’t know yet.””
“Did he target my mother?””
Another pause.
“We found emails discussing an incapacity strategy.””
My jaw clenched.
“From Robert?””
“Apparently.””
Mom stared at me.
I repeated it.
Her face crumpled.
“He wanted them to make me look incompetent?””
Mills answered through the speaker.
“It appears someone was collecting examples of supposed confusion or memory problems.””
Then something clicked.
The courier.
The documents.
Lauren constantly complaining that Mom misplaced things.
Had those complaints been preparation?
“Was Lauren involved?””
“We haven’t found evidence that she participated in that part.””
I almost felt relief.
Almost.
Mills continued.
“Actually, one recording suggests Lauren threatened to expose Gregory if he tried it.””
Mom looked away.
The woman who had humiliated her had also stopped something worse.
Human beings were inconvenient that way.
Rarely completely one thing.
“When will you find Robert?””
“We’re trying.””
My phone vibrated with an incoming message.
Unknown number.
A photograph loaded.
My stomach dropped.
It showed my house.
Taken from across the street.
This morning.
Beneath it were six words.
YOUR FATHER STOLE WHAT WAS MINE.
Another message arrived.
ASK EVELYN WHAT THOMAS REALLY DID.
I showed Detective Mills.
His voice sharpened immediately.
“Do not go home.””
Mom whispered, “Michael…”
A third message appeared.
Hannah stepped beside me.
This one contained another photograph.
My father.
Robert.
And a young woman I recognized from Hannah’s family pictures.
Rebecca.
They were standing together beside the land.
On the back of the photographed picture, someone had written a date.
Twenty-one years ago.
Hannah whispered, “My mother knew Robert.””
Then the final message arrived.
There was no photograph this time.
Just one sentence.
THE LAND WAS NEVER THOMAS’S TO GIVE AWAY.
Mom stared at the screen.
And suddenly she began to cry.
Not frightened tears.
Guilty ones.
I knew immediately.
There was still something she hadn’t told me.
“Mom.””
She shook her head.
“Please.””
“What did Dad do?””
Her eyes met mine.
“Thomas didn’t inherit the land from your grandfather.””
The room went silent.
“He bought Robert out.””
Samuel frowned.
“With what money?””
May you like
Mom looked at Hannah.
“With Rebecca’s.””
