Chapter 4: The Woman Who Knew Too Much
Vanessa’s words hung in the classroom like smoke.
“Because your mother wasn’t the only person who knew what Marcus had done.””
I stared at her.
The woman who had stood beside my father for years.
The woman who helped raise me.
The woman whose voice had appeared on a recording connected to my mother’s attempted murder.
“You expect me to believe you now?”” I asked.
Vanessa flinched.
“I know I don’t deserve your trust.””
“That’s the first true thing you’ve said.””
My mother stepped closer to me.
“Lena, we should leave.””
But Vanessa shook her head quickly.
“No.””
Her voice cracked.
“If I don’t tell you now, Marcus will find another way to control the story.””
The officer near the door watched her carefully.
“Start from the beginning.””
Vanessa looked down.
For the first time since I had known her, she didn’t look polished.
She didn’t look like the woman from magazine covers and charity events.
She looked exhausted.
“I met Marcus seven months after your mother disappeared.””
My stomach tightened.
“Seven months?””
She nodded.
“He told me she abandoned him.””
My mother laughed quietly.
Not because it was funny.
Because it hurt.
“He told you that?””
Vanessa looked at her.
“Yes.””
“And you believed him?””
Vanessa looked away.
“At first.””
That answer hurt more than if she had lied.
I crossed my arms.
“So what changed?””
Vanessa sat down.
“I started noticing things.””
The officer pulled out a notebook.
“What things?””
She swallowed.
“Marcus was obsessed with controlling everything.””
She looked at me.
“Your schedule. Your friends. Your phone. Your conversations.””
I thought about it.
All the times Marcus asked who I was texting.
All the times he told me certain friends were “bad influences.””
All the times he said he was only protecting me.
Vanessa continued.
“He would disappear for hours and refuse to explain where he had been.””
My mother stared at her.
“Did you know about the cabin?””
Vanessa’s face went pale.
“Yes.””
The room went silent.
My chest tightened.
“What?””
She looked at me.
“I didn’t know at first.””
Her hands shook.
“Marcus told me he had business property outside town. He said he stored old equipment there.””
My mother’s expression hardened.
“And then?””
Vanessa closed her eyes.
“Then one night, I found a locked room.””
The officer leaned forward.
“What was inside?””
Vanessa looked sick.
“Your mother’s things.””
Nobody spoke.
“What things?”” I whispered.
“Her clothes. Her jewelry. Her wedding photos.””
My mother covered her mouth.
I felt the room spinning.
“He kept them?””
Vanessa nodded.
“I asked him why.””
“And what did he say?”” my mother asked.
Vanessa’s voice dropped.
“He said, ‘Because dead people don’t come back.’”
A cold silence filled the room.
My mother’s face changed.
Not shock.
Recognition.
“He knew.””
Vanessa looked at her.
“He knew you survived.””
My hands started shaking.
My father didn’t think my mother was dead.
He knew.
The truth was worse than I imagined.
The officer stood.
“Where is this cabin?””
Vanessa looked toward the hallway.
“Marcus knows I’m talking.””
A noise came from outside.
Footsteps.
Everyone turned.
But it was only another officer passing by.
Vanessa exhaled.
“He always said people were replaceable.””
My mother looked at her.
“And you stayed.””
The accusation was quiet.
But it landed.
Vanessa lowered her head.
“I was afraid.””
I wanted to hate her.
I tried.
But I saw something familiar in her expression.
The same fear I saw in my mother.
“What else do you know?”” I asked.
Vanessa looked at me.
Then she reached into her purse.
The same designer purse she dropped when my mother walked into graduation.
She pulled out a small flash drive.
“I copied this three weeks ago.””
The officer immediately stepped forward.
“Where did you get that?””
“From Marcus’s office.””
My mother looked at the flash drive.
“What’s on it?””
Vanessa hesitated.
“Proof that the brake failure wasn’t the only thing he planned.””
My heartbeat changed.
“What does that mean?””
She looked at me.
“Marcus had a second plan.””
The classroom door suddenly opened.
Another officer stood there.
“Lena, your father is asking to speak with you.””
Nobody moved.
My mother grabbed my hand.
“No.””
But I couldn’t stop staring toward the hallway.
Because deep down, a part of me still wanted an explanation.
A reason.
A moment where my father would look at me and become the person I remembered.
Vanessa stood.
“Don’t go alone.””
I looked at her.
“Why?””
May you like
Her eyes filled with fear.
“Because Marcus never asks for a conversation unless he already knows how he wants it to end.””
