Chapter 7: The Letter My Mother Left Behind
For six years, I had believed my mother died without leaving me a final message.
Now a woman who had helped destroy my wedding was telling me that Daniel Crawford had stolen a letter written on the last night of my mother's life.
“Where did you see it?”” I asked Jessica.
She wiped her cheeks with the back of her hand.
“In Daniel's office. It was inside a black folder with your mother's name on it. I recognized her photograph because it was the same woman in the documents Richard gave him.””
“Richard gave him documents about my mother?””
“Yes. Daniel said they were evidence of something she had done. He said the letter would prove your grandfather had lied to you.””
I felt my stomach tighten.
“What exactly did the letter say?””
“I don't know. I only saw the first few lines before Daniel took it away.””
“What lines?””
Jessica closed her eyes, trying to remember.
“Something about a daughter deserving to know the truth. And something about a man who would do anything to protect his fortune.””
My grandfather stood beside the window of Jessica's apartment, his face unreadable.
“Did you see a signature?”” he asked.
Jessica nodded.
“Evelyn Bennett.””
He looked away.
I turned toward him.
“Do you think the letter is real?””
“I think we need to find it before we decide what it means.””
“That isn't an answer.””
“It's the only honest one I have.””
An officer approached us with a notebook.
“Miss Bennett, we need to establish whether Mr. Crawford had access to your residence or any of your personal records.””
“He never lived with me,” I said.
“But he had been to my apartment dozens of times.””
“Did you ever give him access to your family's documents?””
“No.””
I paused.
Then I remembered something.
Three months earlier, Daniel had borrowed my laptop to prepare a presentation while his own computer was being repaired. I had left him alone in my home for almost two hours.
He could have accessed anything.
My email. My old photographs. The scanned papers I had kept after my mother's funeral.
“Could he have found the letter through your accounts?”” the officer asked.
“I don't know.””
My grandfather stepped closer.
“Officer, I want to make one thing clear. If someone has obtained confidential family documents through unauthorized access, we want that investigated fully.””
The officer nodded.
“We'll document everything.””
When he walked away, Jessica caught my sleeve.
“Phoebe, I know you hate me.””
“I don't hate you.””
“You should.””
“You helped Daniel humiliate me in front of two hundred people.””
Her eyes filled again.
“I know.””
“You knew he was engaged to me.””
“Yes.””
“And you still put on a wedding dress.””
She lowered her head.
“I thought he had ended things with you. He told me you were staying with him because your grandfather was pressuring you into the marriage. He said the wedding was a business arrangement, and you had agreed to it.””
I stared at her.
“Did you believe that?””
She looked ashamed.
“I wanted to.””
For a moment, neither of us spoke.
I understood the answer more than I wanted to. People often believed the lies that gave them permission to do what they already wanted.
But understanding wasn't forgiveness.
“Give the police everything you have,” I told her.
“If you remember anything else, tell them. Don't protect Daniel again.””
“I won't.””
Grandpa touched my shoulder.
“Phoebe, we need to go.””
I looked at him.
“Where?””
“To your mother's grave.””
The cemetery was nearly empty when we arrived.
A cold wind swept across the rows of headstones, bending the grass and stirring dead leaves along the paths. The sky had darkened, although it was barely evening.
Two plainclothes officers accompanied us. Margaret had arranged for additional security after Jessica's report.
I walked ahead of everyone.
My mother's grave stood beneath an old oak tree. The stone was pale gray, her name engraved in elegant black lettering.
EVELYN BENNETT.
BELOVED MOTHER. FOREVER IN OUR HEARTS.
I knelt and brushed a damp leaf from the inscription.
“Hi, Mom,” I whispered.
My voice broke.
“I wish you had told me what was happening.””
For years, I had visited this grave on birthdays and holidays. I had brought flowers, told her about my work, and described the small victories she would have celebrated.
I had never once suspected that the final months of her life were wrapped in secrets.
Behind me, Grandpa spoke quietly with one of the officers.
Then I noticed something strange.
A fresh indentation in the soil beside the grave.
I touched the earth. It was loose, as though someone had recently knelt there or disturbed the ground.
“Grandpa?””
He approached immediately.
“What is it?””
I pointed to the disturbed patch.
One of the officers crouched to examine it.
“There may have been recent activity here.””
My heart began to pound.
Then another officer called from the opposite side of the headstone.
“Mr. Sterling, you need to see this.””
He held up a small black envelope.
My mother's name was written across the front.
The handwriting was unmistakable.
I had spent years looking at her birthday cards and handwritten notes. I would have recognized those letters anywhere.
My fingers trembled as the officer passed the envelope to me.
Inside was a single photograph.
It showed my mother standing beside a dark sedan, holding a thick manila folder.
On the back, someone had written a date.
The day before she died.
Below it were six words.
*Ask Charles who was driving.*
I slowly turned toward my grandfather.
He had gone completely pale.
“Grandpa,” I whispered.
“Who was driving that night?””
He stared at the photograph.
May you like
Then, from somewhere behind the trees, a man's voice answered.
“I was.””
