PART 3
“He asked me to find out whether you killed him.”
For several seconds, the words did not make sense.
They entered my ears, but my mind refused to arrange them into a sentence.
Then the meaning struck.
I stepped away from Lily.
“You think I killed my own son?”
“I don’t know what to think.”
“You came into my home pretending to bring me his final wish.”
“I did bring you his final wish.”
“You sat at my table. You drank my coffee. You watched me open those letters while secretly investigating me.”
Tears gathered in her eyes.
“I was afraid.”
“Of me?”
“Of everyone.”
I pointed toward the photograph.
“Why did Andrew believe I had anything to do with his death?”
Lily glanced toward the apartment door.
“Because someone contacted him using your name.”
My anger faltered.
“What are you talking about?”
“Six weeks before he died, Dad received a voicemail.”
“From whom?”
“The caller said she was you.”
My stomach tightened.
“What did she say?”
Lily reached into her jacket and removed her phone.
“I saved it.”
“You had this the entire time?”
“He made me promise not to play it until I was sure I could trust you.”
“And are you sure now?”
“No.”
The honesty stung.
She unlocked the phone and opened an audio file.
“I’ve listened to it so many times that I hear it in my sleep.”
She pressed play.
Static whispered through the small speaker.
Then a woman spoke.
“Andrew, this is your mother.”
My body went cold.
It was my voice.
Not similar.
Not close.
Mine.
The recording continued.
“I know what happened the morning your father died. I know who switched his medication, and I know why you stayed away. Come to San Diego alone. Do not call the police. Do not bring Lily. Meet me behind the old Bennett’s Table building Friday at 9:00 p.m.”
There was a pause.
Then my recorded voice said something that no stranger should have known.
“Bring the watch Robert wore on our wedding day.”
The voicemail ended.
Neither of us moved.
“That was not me,” I whispered.
Lily studied my face.
“It sounds exactly like you.”
“I don’t care what it sounds like.”
“Dad thought it was you.”
“Then why didn’t he call me back?”
“He tried.”
I shook my head.
“My number hasn’t changed in 14 years.”
“He called the number that left the message. A woman answered and told him your phone was being monitored.”
“And he believed her?”
“He wanted to believe you had finally contacted him.”
The sentence pierced through my anger.
Of course he had wanted to believe it.
For 25 years, I had waited for Andrew to call.
Perhaps some part of him had spent those same years waiting for me.
“What happened when he came to San Diego?”
“He didn’t tell me he was coming. He said he had a business trip in Phoenix.”
“Did he meet the woman?”
“I think so.”
“You think?”
“He disappeared for almost 2 days.”
Lily’s voice trembled.
“When he came home, his shirt was torn. He had bruises across his ribs and a cut behind his ear. One of his shoes was missing.”
“Why didn’t you take him to the hospital?”
“I tried. He refused.”
“Why?”
“He said hospitals reported suspicious injuries.”
“He had terminal cancer. The doctors already knew him.”
“He wasn’t afraid of the doctors.”
“Then who was he afraid of?”
“Detective Foster.”
I stared at her.
“Diane Foster must be nearly 80 years old.”
“Dad said age doesn’t make dangerous people harmless.”
“What did he tell you about the attack?”
“Almost nothing. He kept saying he had made a terrible mistake by coming here. He burned his clothes in a barrel behind our house.”
“Did he have the watch?”
“No.”
I touched my purse.
Robert’s watch rested inside the wooden box.
The person who attacked Andrew had apparently taken it.
Yet somehow it had ended up inside Unit 318.
“Who placed the watch in the safe?” I asked.
Lily shook her head.
“Dad didn’t go back to the storage unit after he returned home.”
“How do you know?”
“He could barely walk.”
“Then someone else had access.”
The false storage manager’s face flashed through my mind.
A ring of keys hanging from his belt.
A black sedan following us through the city.
Someone entering my locked apartment without disturbing the door.
I went to the kitchen drawer and took out a large carving knife.
Lily stared at it.
“What are you doing?”
“Leaving.”
“Where?”
“Somewhere the person who broke into my home won’t expect us to be.”
“You still trust your attorney?”
“I trust locked doors, security cameras, and a building filled with people more than I trust this apartment.”
I placed the knife inside a canvas grocery bag.
Then I took every document we had carried from the storage unit and put them into 2 shopping bags.
“What about the photograph?”
I picked it up by the edges.
On the front, Robert and Andrew stood outside Bennett’s Table.
My husband’s hand was raised as though warning our son.
Andrew’s face was turned away.
The timestamp printed along the bottom showed that the photograph had been taken 18 minutes before Andrew entered the restaurant and removed the money.
Someone had been watching them.
Someone close enough to take a clear photograph.
I placed it inside an envelope.
“Bring it.”
Lily did not move.
“Margaret.”
“What?”
“There’s something else.”
I closed my eyes.
“There always is.”
She reached into her backpack and removed a sealed plastic pouch.
Inside was a prescription bottle.
My name was printed on the label.
MARGARET BENNETT.
The medication was a powerful sedative.
“I have never taken that.”
“It was found beneath Dad’s bed after he died.”
“By whom?”
“Me.”
“Did you give it to the police?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because the bottle had your fingerprints on it.”
The apartment seemed to tilt.
“That is impossible.”
“I found 2 partial prints and 1 clear thumbprint. Dad kept a fingerprint kit in his office.”
“A fingerprint kit?”
“He spent years gathering evidence.”
“And you tested it yourself?”
“Yes.”
I held out my hand.
“Give it to me.”
She hesitated.
“Now.”
Lily placed the pouch in my palm.
The bottle looked new.
The prescription date was 4 days before Andrew’s death.
The pharmacy address was in San Diego.
“I was never at this pharmacy.”
“The pharmacist remembered you.”
“No, she remembered someone using my name.”
“She said the woman showed identification.”
“My identification is in my purse.”
“Did you ever lose your driver’s license?”
“Not recently.”
“What about 25 years ago?”
I looked at her.
After Robert died, my purse had disappeared from the hospital waiting room.
A nurse found it several hours later inside a restroom.
Nothing seemed to be missing.
I had been too numb to inspect every card.
“My old license,” I whispered.
“What?”
“It was replaced a few months after Robert’s funeral because it expired.”
Lily’s expression changed.
“Someone may have copied it.”
“Or kept it long enough to make a duplicate.”
I examined the bottle again.
“How did Andrew die?”
“You know how.”
“I know what you told me. Pancreatic cancer.”
“He had cancer.”
“That wasn’t my question.”
Lily turned away.
“His doctor expected him to live several more weeks.”
My heart began beating faster.
“What happened?”
“The morning after he came home from San Diego, he became confused. He could barely stay awake. His breathing slowed.”
“Was he taking pain medication?”
“Yes.”
“Then why was a sedative prescribed in my name beneath his bed?”
“I don’t know.”
“You do know something.”
Her shoulders began to shake.
“I gave him the medicine.”
The confession struck harder than the accusation.
“What?”
“He woke up in terrible pain. He told me there was a bottle in the kitchen cabinet. He said the pills would help him sleep.”
“You gave him medication with my name on it?”
“The label had been removed.”
“But it’s there now.”
“I found it inside his desk after he died.”
I stared at her.
“The bottle beneath his bed was different?”
“He moved it.”
“Or someone did.”
“He took 1 tablet.”
“And then?”
“He fell asleep.”
“For how long?”
“Almost 14 hours.”
“Did you call his doctor?”
“He woke up again.”
“And?”
“He said he had seen my mother.”
The room became quiet.
“Elena?”
Lily nodded.
“He said she was standing beside the bed, wearing the yellow dress she wore on their first date. He kept apologizing to her.”
“Hallucinations are common near the end.”
“I know.”
“But you don’t believe that was all it was.”
“No.”
“What else did he say?”
Lily looked directly at me.
“He said, ‘Elena was inside the restaurant.’”
I forgot about the knife.
The boxes.
The person following us.
All I could see was the grainy security footage.
The small woman entering Bennett’s Table in an apron.
Her dark hair tied beneath a police cap.
A bottle in her hand.
“The woman who switched Robert’s medication,” I whispered.
Lily’s face crumpled.
“He said my mother did it.”
I lowered myself into a chair.
“No.”
“He was barely conscious. I thought he was confused.”
“Did he say why?”
“He said Colin made her choose.”
“Choose between what?”
“Your husband and me.”
I looked at her.
“You weren’t born yet.”
“She was almost 4 months pregnant.”
My mind returned to Andrew’s first letter.
Colin had Elena.
She was pregnant.
He threatened her.
Andrew had claimed that he stole the money to free her.
But perhaps Colin had not locked Elena inside a warehouse for 2 days.
Perhaps he had forced her into Bennett’s Table.
Perhaps she had been the person who removed Robert’s real medicine and replaced it with breath mints.
“Did your father redact her name from Colin’s statement?” I asked.
“I think so.”
“To protect you.”
“And to protect her memory.”
A bitter taste filled my mouth.
“Your mother helped cause Robert’s death.”
Lily flinched as though I had struck her.
“I know.”
“No, you don’t.”
My voice rose.
“You didn’t sit beside his hospital bed for 3 days. You didn’t hold his hand while machines breathed for him. You didn’t watch a priest close his eyes.”
“I was not even born.”
“Exactly.”
“That doesn’t mean I don’t hate what she did.”
“She chose her unborn child.”
“I know.”
“She chose you over Robert.”
Tears streamed down Lily’s face.
“What was she supposed to do?”
The question silenced me.
I wanted to say she should have refused.
I wanted to say she should have warned someone.
I wanted to say no innocent man’s life should have been traded for another.
But I remembered carrying Andrew inside me.
I remembered the fierce terror of loving someone before seeing his face.
If a man had placed a bottle in my hand and told me that refusing would kill my unborn child, what would I have done?
I could not answer.
That frightened me more than my anger.
“We need to leave,” I said.
Lily wiped her face.
“Do you believe me?”
“I believe someone wants us to blame each other.”
“That wasn’t my question.”
“No,” I said. “I don’t think you came here to hurt me.”
It was not complete trust.
But it was more than I had given her before.
We left the apartment through the rear stairwell.
I checked the street before opening the door.
The black sedan was parked across from the building.
Its engine was off.
No one sat behind the wheel.
“Where’s the driver?” Lily whispered.
“Watching the front entrance, probably.”
We crossed behind a delivery van and entered my Honda.
I drove away without turning on the headlights until we reached the next block.
Nathan Cole’s office occupied the fifth floor of a glass building downtown. His assistant, Jennifer, had promised to secure our boxes in the records room.
When we arrived, the lobby was nearly empty.
The security guard recognized me.
“Working late, Mrs. Bennett?”
“Tax emergency.”
He smiled.
“Those are the worst kind.”
We rode the elevator to the fifth floor.
The hallway lights were dim.
Nathan’s office door stood slightly open.
I stopped.
“Jennifer?” I called.
No answer.
Lily moved behind me.
“You said the office would be locked.”
“It should be.”
I pushed the door with the tip of my shoe.
The reception area was dark.
A desk lamp glowed in Jennifer’s empty workspace.
Her purse remained beneath the desk.
A cup of tea sat beside the keyboard.
Still warm.
“Jennifer?” I called again.
A sound came from the records room.
Paper sliding across the floor.
I removed the carving knife from the grocery bag.
Lily picked up a heavy metal stapler.
We moved down the hallway.
The records-room door was closed.
Light showed beneath it.
I placed my hand on the knob.
Before I could turn it, my phone rang.
The sound made both of us jump.
Nathan Cole’s name appeared on the screen.
I answered quietly.
“Nathan?”
“Margaret, where are you?”
His voice was strained.
“At your office.”
“Get out.”
“What?”
“Leave the building immediately.”
“Jennifer let us store—”
“Jennifer called me 20 minutes ago. She said a man came asking about you.”
“What man?”
“He claimed to be my brother.”
“You don’t have a brother.”
“I know.”
A floorboard creaked behind the records-room door.
I tightened my grip on the knife.
“Nathan, where are you?”
“At the airport. My flight was canceled. I’m on my way back.”
“Someone is inside your records room.”
“Do not open that door.”
A shadow crossed the strip of light beneath it.
Then the doorknob slowly turned from the other side.
Lily stepped backward.
Nathan continued speaking urgently.
“Margaret, listen to me. There is a panic button under Jennifer’s desk.”
The records-room door opened 1 inch.
I raised the knife.
A man’s voice came through the gap.
“You won’t need the panic button.”
I recognized the voice.
The false storage manager.
He opened the door wider.
He no longer wore gray work clothes.
He wore a dark suit.
A gun hung at his side, but his hands remained raised.
“Stay where you are,” I said.
“You took your time opening the safe, Margaret.”
Lily lifted the stapler.
“Who are you?”
The man looked at her.
His face softened.
“Your father never showed you my picture?”
“No.”
“He had good reasons.”
“Answer her,” I said.
“My name is Samuel Ortiz.”
Lily’s breath caught.
“The private investigator?”
“The one who disappeared,” I added.
Samuel nodded.
“I had to disappear. Andrew’s enemies believed I was dead. That kept me useful.”
“You followed us.”
“I protected you.”
“You broke into my apartment.”
“No.”
“Someone did.”
“Yes.”
“Who?”
Samuel glanced toward the office entrance.
“We don’t have much time.”
“I am tired of people saying that.”
“You’ll be more tired when Foster’s people arrive.”
“Diane Foster?”
“Diane hasn’t controlled this operation for years.”
“Then who does?”
Samuel looked at the prescription bottle in my hand.
“The person who copied your identity. The same person who lured Andrew to San Diego.”
“Did that person kill him?”
“He was already dying.”
“That is not an answer.”
“No,” Samuel said. “The cancer did not kill him.”
Lily made a broken sound.
I stepped closer.
“What happened to my son?”
Samuel looked at her before answering.
“Andrew found the woman from the restaurant.”
“Elena?” Lily whispered.
Samuel’s expression became unreadable.
“Your father discovered that the story about your mother’s car accident was a lie.”
Lily lowered the stapler.
“No.”
“He found proof that Elena survived.”
“That’s impossible. I saw photographs of the wreck.”
“You saw photographs of a wreck. You never saw her body.”
“She was buried.”
“The coffin was closed.”
Lily’s face turned white.
I remembered what she had said.
Dad was driving.
A truck crossed the center line.
He survived.
She didn’t.
“Why would Andrew tell his own daughter that her mother was dead?” I asked.
Samuel’s eyes remained on Lily.
“Because Elena told him to.”
“Why?”
“To keep Lily hidden from the people she worked for.”
“Worked for?”
Samuel nodded toward Colin’s statement.
“Elena was not an innocent woman kidnapped by Colin. Not entirely.”
Lily shook her head violently.
“No.”
“She was forced to enter the restaurant, but she had been working with Westline before that morning. She helped organize shipments. She gave Colin access to Andrew. She gave Foster information about Robert.”
“She was pregnant,” Lily said.
“That is why she eventually tried to leave.”
“And they threatened me.”
“Yes.”
Lily pressed both hands against her head.
“My father lied to me my entire life.”
“He protected you with the only story he believed would keep you from searching for her.”
“Where is she now?”
Samuel’s gaze shifted toward me.
“That is what Andrew came to San Diego to discover.”
“And did he?”
“Yes.”
The office telephone began ringing at Jennifer’s desk.
No one moved.
After 4 rings, it stopped.
A second later, the elevator bell sounded in the hallway.
Samuel reached for the gun at his side.
“Turn off the light.”
I flipped the switch.
Darkness filled the records room.
Footsteps entered the reception area.
Slow.
Unhurried.
A woman called my name.
“Margaret?”
The voice was familiar.
Not from the voicemail.
From much farther back.
From crowded mornings at Bennett’s Table.
From hospital hallways.
From Robert’s funeral.
I knew that voice.
But I could not place it.
“Samuel,” I whispered, “who is that?”
He leaned close enough for me to hear him breathe.
“The woman who entered the restaurant.”
Lily grabbed my arm.
“My mother?”
Samuel did not answer.
The footsteps moved closer.
“Margaret,” the woman called again. “I know you’re here.”
A figure appeared in the doorway.
She was in her late 50s, perhaps early 60s, with dark hair streaked by silver. A thin scar crossed her left temple.
Lily’s fingers dug into my arm.
The woman stepped into the faint light from the hallway.
Lily made a sound so small it barely seemed human.
“Mom?”
The woman looked at her.
For 1 terrible moment, love crossed her face.
Then it disappeared.
“Elena?” I whispered.
Her gaze moved to me.
“I’m sorry about Robert.”
Rage exploded through me.
I raised the knife.
Samuel caught my wrist.
“Not yet.”
“Let me go.”
“You need to hear her.”
“I have heard enough.”
“No,” Elena said quietly. “You haven’t.”
She reached into her coat.
Samuel pointed his gun at her.
“Slowly.”
Elena removed a yellow envelope and placed it on the floor.
“Andrew gave this to me the night he died.”
Lily stared at her.
“You were with him?”
“Yes.”
“You let me believe you were dead.”
“I had no choice.”
“You had 16 years of choices!”
Elena’s face tightened.
“I stayed away to keep you alive.”
“Dad is dead.”
“I know.”
“You killed him.”
“No.”
“You gave him the pills.”
Elena looked at the prescription bottle in my hand.
“I gave him nothing.”
“Then why does that bottle have Margaret’s fingerprints?”
“Because it wasn’t meant to frame Margaret for Andrew’s death.”
I stopped struggling against Samuel.
“What was it meant to frame me for?”
Elena’s eyes filled with something that looked almost like pity.
“For mine.”
Silence fell over the room.
Before anyone could speak, the office windows shattered.
Samuel pulled Lily and me to the floor.
A gunshot cracked through the darkness.
Elena staggered backward.
Blood spread across her coat.
She collapsed beside the yellow envelope.
Lily screamed and crawled toward her.
Samuel fired twice toward the broken window.
“Stay down!”
I pressed my hands against Elena’s wound.
Her blood was hot between my fingers.
“Who shot you?” I demanded.
Her lips moved.
I leaned closer.
“The photograph,” she whispered.
“What photograph?”
“Robert and Andrew.”
“The one left in my apartment?”
She nodded weakly.
“Turn it over.”
“There was a message on the back.”
“Under the message.”
Her breathing became shallow.
“What is under it?”
“A second photograph.”
I remembered the thickness of the paper.
The front image had felt heavier than ordinary film.
Two photographs glued together.
“What does it show?”
Elena looked toward Lily.
Then back at me.
“It shows who ordered Robert’s death.”
“Who?”
Her fingers closed around my sleeve.
“The person Andrew trusted with the repayment money.”
My blood froze.
Nathan Cole was the trustee named in Andrew’s legal papers.
Nathan had handled my finances for 14 years.
Nathan knew my address.
Nathan had access to copies of my identification.
Nathan knew my fingerprints were on every document in his office.
My phone remained connected to him.
I lifted it from the floor.
The call had ended.
Then the records-room speaker crackled.
Nathan’s voice came through the office intercom.
Calm.
Clear.
Nearby.
“Margaret, step away from Elena.”
Samuel looked toward the ceiling.
“He isn’t at the airport.”
The records-room door slammed shut behind us.
The lock clicked.
Nathan continued.
“I’m sorry you had to learn the truth this way.”
Smoke began pouring through the ventilation grate.
Lily coughed beside her wounded mother.
I pressed my sleeve over my mouth.
“Nathan!” I shouted. “What did Robert discover?”
For several seconds, only the hiss of gas answered me.
Then Nathan spoke the name that made the last 25 years collapse beneath my feet.
“Robert discovered that Westline Delivery belonged to you.”……………………..
PART 4…
TO BE CONTINUED IN PART 4…
