Chapter 7: The Passenger Richard Left Behind
For several seconds, I couldn't understand what Brielle had just said.
Someone was still alive when Richard left the scene.
I stared at my daughter.
"Who?""
Brielle shook her head, crying so hard she could barely speak.
"Mom, I was seventeen. I didn't know what to do.""
James moved toward her.
"Who was alive, Brielle?""
She looked at him.
Then she whispered, "Laura's little brother.""
Patricia made a sound that seemed to come from somewhere deep inside her chest.
"My son?""
Brielle nodded.
Patricia grabbed the edge of the desk.
"Lucas was in that car?""
I looked between them.
"Patricia, you have a son?""
"He's not my son anymore," she whispered.
"He died six months after Laura.""
I felt the room go cold.
Brielle covered her face.
"No. That's not what I mean.""
Patricia stepped closer.
"Then tell me what you mean.""
Brielle wiped her cheeks.
"Lucas was in the back seat. He survived the crash. He was unconscious, but he was breathing.""
Patricia began shaking.
"Why didn't anyone tell me?""
"Richard came back after I called him.""
James stared at his wife.
"You called my father?""
She nodded.
"I was terrified. The car had gone off the road. Laura wasn't moving.
Lucas was bleeding. I didn't know what to do.""
"Why didn't you call 911?"" James demanded.
"I did!""
"Then why was there no record of Lucas being at the scene?""
Brielle looked down.
"Because Richard arrived before the ambulance.""
Patricia grabbed Brielle's arm.
"What did he do to my son?""
Brielle pulled away.
"He told me to stay in the car. He said he'd handle everything.""
Patricia's face twisted.
"And you listened?""
"I was seventeen!""
"YOU WERE OLD ENOUGH TO KNOW MY DAUGHTER WAS DEAD!""
The scream echoed through the hospital office.
Brielle collapsed into a chair.
James stepped between the two women.
"Patricia, please.""
"Don't tell me to calm down! My daughter died, and apparently someone has been hiding what happened to my son for twelve years!""
I looked at Brielle.
"Where did Richard take Lucas?""
She shook her head.
"I don't know.""
"Don't lie to me.""
"I'm not!""
Patricia opened her handbag and pulled out a faded photograph.
It showed two teenagers standing beside a lake.
One was Laura.
The other was a young boy with dark hair and a wide smile.
"Lucas was fifteen," Patricia whispered.
"He was my whole world.""
She turned the photograph toward Brielle.
"Did he say anything?""
Brielle stared at the picture.
Then she nodded.
"He woke up while Richard was checking him.""
Patricia's knees nearly buckled.
"What did he say?""
Brielle began sobbing again.
"He kept asking where his sister was.""
Patricia covered her mouth.
"Then Richard told him that Laura was dead.""
I closed my eyes.
Brielle continued.
"Lucas started screaming. He tried to get out of the car. Richard grabbed him and told him that if he told anyone who had been driving, his mother would go to prison.""
Patricia looked horrified.
"Then what?""
"He put Lucas in another vehicle. He said he was taking him to a hospital.""
James stared at her.
"And?""
Brielle whispered, "I never saw him again.""
Patricia sank into the chair.
For a moment, nobody spoke.
Then she slowly looked up.
"You're telling me Richard took my son away from the accident?""
Brielle nodded.
"Yes.""
"And you let me bury my daughter without knowing my son was alive?""
Brielle covered her face.
"I was scared.""
Patricia slapped the desk.
"You had twelve years to stop being scared!""
James turned away.
He looked as though he might be sick.
I reached for Brielle's hand.
She pulled away.
"Mom, please don't hate me.""
I looked at her.
"I don't know what I feel anymore.""
My daughter began crying harder.
Then Patricia stood.
"Where is Richard now?""
James checked his phone.
"He left the wedding.""
Patricia shook her head.
"He knows I've found the documents. He knows what Brielle has admitted.""
I looked toward the hospital door.
"Then we need to find him.""
James called his father's office.
No answer.
He tried Richard's personal assistant.
She answered immediately.
"Mr. Whitmore left Dallas this afternoon," she said.
"Where did he go?""
"I'm not authorized to disclose that.""
James tightened his grip on the phone.
"Tell him his son wants to speak with him.""
The assistant hesitated.
Then she said something unexpected.
"Mr. Whitmore left instructions that if you called, I should tell you the same thing he told me.""
James went still.
"What?""
"He said that if anyone asked about Lucas, they should stop looking.""
The call ended.
Patricia began shaking again.
I turned toward Brielle.
"Do you know where Richard took him?""
She stared at the floor.
Then she whispered, "There was a name on the paperwork.""
"What paperwork?""
"The hospital transfer.""
I leaned closer.
"Where?""
Brielle looked up.
"St. Catherine's Rehabilitation Center.""
James frowned.
"That facility closed eight years ago.""
Brielle nodded.
"Yes.""
Patricia's eyes filled.
"Then where is my son?""
Brielle reached into her purse and pulled out her phone.
She opened an old photograph.
It showed a medical bracelet.
The name printed on it was barely visible.
But the patient number was clear.
And beneath it was a handwritten note.
Transfer approved by R. Whitmore. Patient to remain unidentified.
Patricia stared at the screen.
Then she whispered:
"That isn't a hospital bracelet.""
May you like
She looked at me.
"It's from a psychiatric institution.""
