The Letter My Stepmother Tried to Destroy

Dad read the note three times.

Each time, his face became paler.

“I didn't write this,” he whispered.

I stood beside him in the garage, listening to the police cruiser disappear down the street.

“Your signature is at the bottom.””

“I know what my signature looks like.””

He held the paper toward the sunlight.

The ink had faded, but the writing remained clear enough to read.

The spare key has been returned. No one needs to know.

Underneath was the name Richard Carter.

I wanted to believe him.

But I couldn't ignore the fact that someone had written those words on the morning my mother died, using his name.

“Who else had access to this drawer?”” I asked.

Dad closed the folder.

“Vanessa. Michael. A few people who helped us after the funeral.””

“Could someone have forged your signature?””

“Possibly.””

“Then we need to find out who.””

He nodded slowly.

For once, he didn't ask me to trust him. He didn't tell me everything would be fine.

He simply picked up the documents and called Ms. Bennett.

Within an hour, she arrived with instructions from the investigators. We handed over the original papers, explained where we'd found them, and provided the names of everyone who might have had access to the garage.

The officers photographed the drawer and documented the remaining contents.

One of them asked Dad to describe the location of the spare key on the night of the accident.

Dad stared at the concrete floor.

“I remember putting it in the office drawer. I remember looking for it the next morning. I don't remember finding it again.””

“Did you write this note?””

“No.””

“Do you recognize the handwriting?””

Dad hesitated.

“Not confidently.””

The officer placed the note in an evidence sleeve.

“We'll have it examined. For now, please don't discuss your recollections with other potential witnesses. We need everyone's account independently.””

After they left, I sat with Dad in the kitchen.

Neither of us touched the food he'd prepared.

“Emily,” he began, “there's something else I haven't told you.””

I stared at him.

“Of course there is.””

He accepted the bitterness in my voice.

“The night your mother died, I wasn't home when she left.””

“Where were you?””

“At the hospital.””

“Why?””

He rubbed his eyes.

“I'd been feeling sick all day. A colleague drove me to the emergency department because I nearly fainted at work. I called Eleanor to tell her I'd be late coming home.””

“Did you tell the police?””

“Yes. They confirmed my visit.””

“Then why does Vanessa keep implying you were in the garage?””

Dad shook his head.

“I don't know. But I remember returning home after midnight. The house was dark. I went into the office to look for the spare key because I wanted to check whether I'd left it somewhere unusual.””

“And the note?””

“I don't remember seeing it.””

I looked at him.

“Could you have written it without remembering?””

He was silent for a long time.

“I suppose it's possible. I was exhausted, and the medication they gave me made me drowsy. But I don't remember returning the key.””

For the first time, the possibility of a forged note wasn't the only explanation.

Someone could have taken advantage of his exhaustion.

Someone could have returned the key without telling him.

Someone could have written the note to make it appear that he'd known exactly what happened.

“Who knew you were at the hospital?”” I asked.

“My colleague. The hospital staff. Your mother, of course.””

“And Vanessa?””

Dad looked at me.

“She called the house that evening. I told her where I was.””

I felt my stomach tighten.

“Did she know when you got home?””

“I don't know.””

My phone vibrated on the table.

A message had arrived from Madison.

*Emily, please call me. Mom told me something before the police came. I think you need to know.*

I showed Dad.

He immediately stood.

“Call her.””

I pressed the number.

Madison answered on the first ring.

“Emily?””

Her voice sounded thin and shaky.

“I'm here. What happened?””

“I heard Mom talking to someone last night. She thought I was asleep.””

“Who was she talking to?””

“I don't know. She was in the guest room, and she was whispering on the phone. She said, 'The note is still there, and Richard doesn't remember anything.''”

My fingers tightened around the phone.

“Did she say anything else?””

Madison sniffed.

“She said, 'If Emily finds the second key, we're finished.''”

Dad stood so still that I thought he'd stopped breathing.

“Madison, where are you now?”” I asked.

“At home. The police let Mom leave after they finished asking questions, but she told me not to speak to anyone.””

“Did you see where she went?””

“She drove away. She took a small black bag from her closet.””

I looked at Dad.

“What was in the bag?””

“I don't know. But she kept it hidden behind her winter clothes. I saw her put something inside it yesterday.””

“What?””

“A metal key.””

Dad gripped the edge of the counter.

“Madison, listen carefully. Don't touch anything in your mother's room. If you think there may be evidence there, tell the investigators. Don't follow her or try to search for her yourself.””

“Okay,” Madison whispered.

Then she added, “Emily, there's something else.””

“What?””

“Mom said your mother wasn't supposed to die that night.””

The room went silent.

I could barely breathe.

“What do you mean?””

“I don't know. She said the plan was only supposed to scare Eleanor into giving up the company documents. She kept saying things went wrong.””

Dad sank into a chair.

I closed my eyes.

For eleven years, I'd imagined my mother's final moments as a tragic accident.

Now the pieces were forming a different picture, one in which people had lied, money had disappeared, and someone had wanted my mother to stop asking questions.

But we still didn't know whether anyone had deliberately caused the crash.

“Madison,” I said gently, “did your mother say who was involved?””

She hesitated.

Then she whispered, “She said Uncle Michael was supposed to take the car.””

Dad's head snapped up.

“What?””

Madison began crying.

“She said he was supposed to make sure Eleanor couldn't leave the office until she'd signed the papers. But he refused, and everything went wrong.””

I looked at Dad.

Michael had admitted being at the office. He'd admitted threatening my mother. But he'd insisted he'd left before she did.

Had he been telling the truth about everything else?

Before I could ask, Madison said, “Emily, Mom also said the second key wasn't in the garage anymore.””