Chapter 7: The Officer in My Mother's Photograph
The Atlanta Police Department insignia on the man's wristwatch changed everything.
Detective Sullivan placed the photograph beneath the study lamp, examining the reflection of the watch face while my father stood motionless beside the desk.
"Do you recognize him?"" I asked.
Sullivan shook his head.
"Not from this photograph alone. The department has issued several versions of that watch over the years. But the timing is significant.""
My father gripped the back of his chair.
"Someone in law enforcement helped Denise destroy my wife's life, and you expect me to believe nobody knows who he is?""
"I'm telling you that someone has been hiding his identity," Sullivan replied.
"There's a difference.""
Dad turned toward the window. Outside, blue emergency lights flickered against the wet driveway. The house that had once felt like the safest place in Atlanta now seemed to have a hundred unseen entrances.
"Seven years," he whispered.
"Seven years of believing I failed to protect my wife because I wasn't home that night.""
I stepped beside him.
"Dad, you didn't know.""
"Maybe I should have.""
Before I could answer, James entered carrying a small black device.
"Mr. Carter, I found this attached beneath the study desk.""
Sullivan took it carefully.
"What is it?""
"A recording transmitter," James replied.
"It wasn't part of the original security system.""
My father stared at the device.
"Someone has been listening to us?""
"Possibly for several weeks, sir.""
Sullivan examined the casing.
"This model can transmit audio to a receiver within a reasonable distance. Whoever installed it may have been monitoring conversations about the trust.""
"Can you identify the receiver?"" I asked.
"Not without additional equipment.""
James hesitated.
"There is something else. I found the same adhesive beneath the desk in the east archive room.""
My father swore.
"How many devices?""
"Two that I can confirm.""
Sullivan slipped the transmitter into an evidence pouch.
"Until we know who's listening, assume every conversation in this house is compromised.""
My phone vibrated.
A message from an unknown number appeared.
Stop looking for Michael Reeves. Your mother died because she refused to listen. Don't make the same mistake.
I showed Sullivan.
He read it, then looked toward the front windows.
"They know we identified the accountant.""
"Can you trace it?"" my father asked.
"Not from the message alone. But whoever sent it has information that hasn't been made public.""
I typed a reply before Sullivan could stop me.
Who killed my mother?
The response came almost instantly.
Ask your father why he never told you about the hospital.
My stomach dropped.
I looked at Dad.
"What hospital?""
His face went pale.
Sullivan stepped between us.
"Richard?""
My father sat down heavily.
"After your mother died, the hospital contacted me about a second medical report. It had been filed separately from the official records.""
"What did it say?""
He stared at his hands.
"It indicated that your mother had received treatment for an injury several weeks before her death. A fractured wrist and bruising around her upper arms.""
I felt cold all over.
"Someone hurt her?""
"She told the doctor she'd fallen down the stairs.""
"Did you believe her?""
My father closed his eyes.
"I wanted to. But when I asked her about it, she became upset and insisted it was an accident.""
"Was Denise there?""
He nodded.
"She was staying with us at the time. She told me your mother had been overwhelmed and had stumbled while carrying laundry.""
I stepped away from him.
"You knew Mom had been injured, and you never investigated?""
"I did investigate!"" His voice cracked.
"I asked questions. I spoke to her physician. But the medical report was withdrawn from the records, and everyone insisted there was nothing suspicious.""
Sullivan's expression hardened.
"That report should never have disappeared.""
My father looked at him desperately.
"Can you find it?""
"I'll try.""
The room fell silent.
Then James spoke.
"Miss Olivia, there may be a way to locate the original hospital records.""
We turned toward him.
"How?"" I asked.
"Your mother kept a small appointment diary in the archive room. I remember her writing down the names of doctors she visited. I never saw what she recorded, but she instructed me to preserve it.""
James disappeared into the corridor and returned minutes later with a faded leather notebook.
I opened it.
Most pages contained ordinary appointments, foundation meetings, and reminders to buy groceries. Then, on a page dated three weeks before her death, I found a handwritten entry.
*Dr. Evelyn Brooks — Private consultation. Do not use family insurance.*
Below it was a telephone number.
Sullivan photographed the page.
"I know that name," he said.
"Dr. Brooks worked in emergency medicine at a private hospital before retiring.""
"Can you contact her?"" Dad asked.
"I'll find out where she is.""
My phone vibrated again.
This time, the message contained an image.
A surveillance photograph showed James standing outside the archive room earlier that evening, holding my mother's wooden box.
Beneath it were six words.
Your father's most loyal servant lies.
I looked at James.
He read the message over my shoulder.
His face crumpled.
"Miss Olivia, I swear to you—"
A loud crash came from upstairs.
We all turned toward the ceiling.
Sullivan drew his weapon and moved toward the door.
"Stay here.""
My father ignored him and followed.
I followed Dad.
At the top of the stairs, we found the corridor empty. But the door to my bedroom stood wide open.
Inside, my mattress had been slashed from end to end. My clothes were scattered across the floor, and my dresser drawers had been emptied.
On the mirror, someone had written in red lipstick:
*GIVE US THE KEY.*
I backed into my father.
Then I noticed something lying on the pillow.
A small white hospital identification band.
My mother's name was printed across it.
And beneath her name was a date.
The day she died.
Sullivan picked it up with gloved fingers.
"Someone wants us to know they have access to evidence from the hospital.""
My father stared at the band.
"Whoever did this was inside my daughter's bedroom again.""
He turned toward James.
"How?""
James's eyes filled with tears.
"I don't know, sir.""
Sullivan looked at the damaged door, then at the hallway.
"Someone didn't come here for the key," he said.
He held up the hospital band.
"They came here to tell us that the next person who disappears might not be coming back.""
His phone rang.
He answered, listened for five seconds, and went completely still.
"Where?"" he asked.
Another pause.
"Keep her there. Don't let anyone speak to her until I arrive.""
He ended the call and looked at us.
"I found Dr. Evelyn Brooks.""
My father grabbed his coat.
"Where is she?""
Sullivan's answer made my blood run cold.
"She's in protective custody.""
May you like
He glanced at the hospital band.
"And she says your mother wasn't the only woman Denise tried to silence.""
