Chapter 6: Someone Had Reached the Workshop First
We arrived at my mother's house shortly after midnight.
The neighborhood was quiet.
The familiar oak trees stood over the driveway, their branches moving in the cold November wind.
I hadn't visited the property in almost a year.
Marcus always said the house brought back painful memories.
He'd suggested selling it several times.
I'd refused every time.
Now I understood why he'd wanted it gone.
Daniel parked near the gate.
"Stay behind me," he said.
I shook my head.
"I'm not hiding from whoever did this.""
He gave me a serious look.
"Lauren, I understand you're angry. But we don't know if anyone is still inside.""
He called the investigator, who confirmed that the police had been notified.
We waited until an officer arrived.
After checking the house, he allowed us to enter.
The living room looked untouched.
The kitchen was exactly as I remembered it.
A small ceramic bowl sat beside the sink.
My mother had bought it at a flea market years earlier.
I ran my fingers over its cracked blue surface.
For a moment, I could almost hear her voice.
"Don't spend your whole life waiting for someone to make you happy, sweetheart.""
I swallowed.
Daniel appeared in the doorway.
"Are you ready?""
I nodded.
We walked toward the workshop.
The door was open.
Wood splinters covered the floor.
Drawers had been emptied.
Old tools were scattered everywhere.
Someone had searched thoroughly.
"Whoever came here knew what they were looking for," Daniel said.
I moved toward the workbench.
A photograph lay on the floor.
It showed my mother standing beside a younger Emily.
They were smiling.
But on the back, my mother had written something.
*The person you trust most may be the one who knows exactly where to hurt you.*
I put the photograph in my purse.
Then I noticed something strange.
The workbench had three drawers.
The first was empty.
The second contained old screws and nails.
The third was locked.
I knelt.
"Daniel, can you help me?""
He examined the lock.
"Do you have a key?""
I shook my head.
"Mom never gave me one.""
Daniel looked around.
"Maybe it's somewhere in the room.""
We searched the shelves.
I checked an old metal toolbox.
Nothing.
Then I remembered my father's habits.
He used to hide important things beneath the wooden workbench because he believed nobody would look there.
I crouched and felt along the underside.
My fingers touched a small metal object.
A key.
"Found it.""
The lock opened with a soft click.
Inside was a blue metal box.
My hands trembled as I lifted it.
There was a small envelope taped to the lid.
My name was written across it.
*For Lauren. Only Lauren.*
I opened it.
Inside was a single photograph of my mother standing beside a man I didn't recognize.
The man was holding a newborn baby.
On the back, my mother had written:
*The truth about the night I died begins with this man.*
Daniel leaned closer.
"Do you recognize him?""
I shook my head.
"No.""
Then I noticed the date.
It was taken nine years ago.
Three days before my mother died.
I opened the box.
Inside were bank statements, legal documents, an old flash drive, and a small black notebook.
The first page of the notebook contained a list of names.
My mother's handwriting was neat and precise.
One name appeared repeatedly.
Dr. Richard Collins.
Another name appeared beneath it.
Marcus Mitchell.
I felt sick.
But there was a third name.
Emily Mitchell.
I opened the first bank statement.
A payment of $25,000 had been made to an account connected to a company called Mitchell Family Holdings.
The payment date was nine years earlier.
The day before my mother's death.
Daniel examined the document.
"Lauren, this is important.""
"Why?""
"Because the company was registered under your husband's name.""
I looked at him.
"Marcus owned a company before we got married?""
Daniel shook his head.
"Not exactly.""
He turned the document over.
The original registration listed another owner.
My mother.
She had transferred a controlling interest to someone else shortly before she died.
I stared at the signature.
It was supposed to be hers.
But something about it looked wrong.
Daniel pointed to the date.
"Your mother signed this on the day she was admitted to the hospital.""
I shook my head.
"That's impossible. She was unconscious by then.""
He carefully placed the document back in the box.
"Then someone forged her signature.""
A sound came from outside.
A car door slammed.
Daniel immediately switched off the workshop light.
We stood motionless.
Footsteps approached the back entrance.
Then a woman's voice called out.
"Lauren?""
My heart stopped.
I knew that voice.
Emily.
Daniel quietly moved toward the doorway.
I stepped forward.
"Emily?""
The door opened.
My sister stood in the entrance, wearing a cream-colored coat.
Her hair was wet from the rain.
She looked at the blue box in my hands.
Then her face crumpled.
"Oh, Lauren.""
I held up the photograph.
"Who is this man?""
Emily didn't answer.
"Who is he?""
She looked at Daniel.
"Why is he here?""
"Because he's helping me discover what happened to our mother.""
Emily shook her head.
"You shouldn't have opened that box.""
I stepped closer.
"Why?""
She began crying.
"Because Mom didn't die from a stroke.""
The workshop went completely silent.
I felt the floor shift beneath my feet.
"What?""
Emily covered her mouth.
"Lauren, I was there that night.""
I stared at my sister.
"You told me you were visiting a friend.""
"I lied.""
"Why?""
She looked at the photograph in my hand.
Then she whispered the words that would change everything.
"Because I was the last person who saw Mom alive.""
Daniel stepped forward.
"What happened that night, Emily?""
My sister looked at me through her tears.
"Marcus was there, too.""
May you like
And before I could ask another question, she added:
"He wasn't your boyfriend back then, Lauren. He was supposed to marry me.""
