Everything inside me went silent.
Walter stood in the doorway.
Not Walter as I had imagined him from photographs.
Not a stroke-damaged old man.
Not a corpse at Richard’s farmhouse.
This Walter stood straight.
Older, yes.
But alert.
Controlled.
His eyes moved from Owen to me.
Then to Mara.
“Well.”
His voice was almost pleasant.
“Family reunion.”
Mara made a sound behind the tape.
Pure hatred.
Owen raised his gun.
“Stay where you are.”
Walter smiled.
“You still think that scares me?”
“You should.”
“You never could hold your hands steady when you were angry.”
Owen’s wrist tightened.
I stared between them.
“Who died at the farmhouse?”
Walter looked at me.
“Good question.”
“Answer it.”
He ignored me.
His gaze shifted to the canvas bag.
“You brought the ledger.”
I stepped in front of it.
“Who was the body?”
Walter sighed.
“Thomas Mercer.”
My stomach dropped.
“No.”
“Yes.”
I shook my head.
“I saw Thomas afterward.”
Walter’s smile widened.
“Did you?”
A chill moved through me.
Impossible.
Thomas had driven with us.
Spoken to Claire.
Been at Mara’s house.
Unless—
Mara started struggling violently.
I moved toward her.
Walter raised the pistol.
“Don’t.”
I stopped.
Owen whispered, “He’s lying.”
Walter looked amused.
“Am I?”
“You always lie.”
“Frequently. Not always.”
I looked at Owen.
“What is happening?”
He swallowed.
“The body at the farmhouse was not Walter.”
“I know that now.”
“It wasn’t Thomas either.”
Walter’s smile disappeared.
Owen continued.
“It was a man named Samuel Voss.”
“Who?”
“Another former Mercer employee.”
Walter looked at him sharply.
“You learned that quickly.”
“Police identification came back fifteen minutes ago.”
Relief hit me strangely.
Thomas was alive.
At least probably.
“Then why say Thomas?”
Walter shrugged.
“To see which of you knew more.”
He was testing us.
Even now.
I looked at him.
“You had a stroke.”
“No.”
“You were in assisted living.”
“Someone was.”
“Using your identity.”
“Yes.”
“Who?”
He tilted his head.
“You’ve met him.”
My chest tightened.
I thought of the photographs.
The repair shop.
The man Richard had marked Confirmed alive.
What if Richard had misidentified him too?
Mara struggled again.
Owen crossed toward her.
Walter’s gun tracked him.
“Careful.”
“Let me remove the tape.”
“No.”
“She needs to breathe.”
“She’s breathing.”
I moved between them.
“If you shoot him, you risk hitting me.”
Walter’s eyes settled on mine.
For the first time, something like recognition appeared.
“You do look like Margaret.”
“Everyone keeps saying that.”
“It annoyed her.”
“Good.”
His mouth twitched.
“You have her temper too.”
“Then you already know I’m not giving you anything until she can speak.”
Walter studied me.
Then nodded.
“One strip.”
Owen removed the tape from Mara’s mouth.
She gasped.
Then immediately said, “That isn’t Walter.”
The room froze.
I stared at her.
The man in the doorway did not move.
Mara’s eyes never left him.
“That is not Walter Grant.”
My pulse hammered.
“Who is he?”
Her voice shook.
“His name is Elias Voss.”
Owen swore.
The man’s pleasant expression disappeared.
Mara continued.
“Samuel’s brother.”
The body at the farmhouse.
Samuel Voss.
The man holding the gun was his brother.
I looked at him.
“You used Walter’s identity.”
“For years.”
“Why?”
“Useful identities are wasted on dead men.”
Mara snapped, “Walter is not dead.”
Everything changed again.
I turned toward her.
“You know where he is?”
“No.”
“But you know he’s alive.”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“Richard told me three years ago.”
My chest tightened.
Richard again.
Elias laughed.
“Richard told everyone different truths.”
Owen kept his gun trained on him.
“Put yours down.”
Elias ignored him.
I looked at Mara.
“Why did Richard think this man was Walter?”
“He didn’t.”
“What?”
“He knew Elias had used Walter’s name before.”
“Then the photograph on his wall—”
“Richard used labels to mislead anyone who found the archive.”
The room seemed to shift beneath me.
“The archive was intentionally false?”
“Not all of it.”
“Which parts?”
“Anything that would identify Walter’s true location.”
I almost laughed from exhaustion.
Even Richard’s secret truth-room contained lies.
Elias stepped inside and closed the door.
“Enough family history.”
His gun pointed toward the canvas bag.
“Ledger.”
“No.”
He looked at me.
“You think you have leverage?”
“My mother.”
“Mara is not useful enough to kill.”
Mara’s expression hardened.
“You always did underestimate women.”
Elias glanced at her.
“That line sounds better when you aren’t tied to a chair.”
Owen shifted.
Elias immediately pointed the gun at him.
“You, however, are expendable.”
I looked at Owen.
“Why?”
Elias smiled.
“He still hasn’t told you.”
“Told me what?”
Owen’s jaw tightened.
“Not here.”
“Pretty sure ‘here’ is the time.”
Mara spoke.
“Owen is Walter’s son.”
Silence.
Bennett’s nephew.
Laura’s son.
Walter’s son.
I stared at Owen.
“Your mother was Laura Price.”
“Yes.”
“And your father—”
“Walter.”
My stomach dropped.
“Bennett didn’t know?”
“No.”
“Richard?”
“Yes.”
Of course Richard knew.
“Did Laura?”
Owen laughed bitterly.
“She gave birth to me.”
“That was not what I meant.”
“She knew who he really was.”
“Did she tell Bennett?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Shame. Fear. Pick one.”
Elias shifted impatiently.
“Ledger.”
I ignored him.
“Owen, why were you searching Richard’s files?”
“To find my father.”
“Why?”
“Because my mother died believing Richard covered up her accident.”
Bennett’s sister.
Laura.
The crash near Daniel’s old cabin.
“What happened?”
Owen looked at Elias.
“Not an accident.”
Mara whispered, “I knew it.”
Elias said nothing.
Owen continued.
“Laura found out Walter was using Elias and Samuel to keep the trafficking operation running after the original company collapsed.”
My stomach turned.
“After everyone thought it stopped?”
“Yes.”
“She confronted Richard.”
“What did he do?”
“Promised to investigate.”
Mara laughed bitterly.
“Richard always promised investigation instead of action.”
Owen nodded.
“Three weeks later Laura’s car went off the road.”
“Elias?”
“I think one of the Voss brothers caused it.”
Elias’s face remained unreadable.
“Think carefully before you accuse people.”
Owen raised the gun higher.
“I am.”
A siren sounded faintly outside.
Everyone froze.
Elias looked at me.
“You brought police.”
“Not inside.”
“Yet.”
His attention shifted toward the window.
That was enough.
Owen lunged.
The gunshot exploded in the room.
Mara screamed.
I dropped.
Owen hit Elias at the waist.
Both men crashed into the wall.
The pistol skidded beneath the hospital bed.
I crawled toward Mara.
Owen and Elias fought brutally.
No finesse.
Elbows.
Hands.
Desperation.
I reached Mara and worked at the knots around her wrists.
“Anna, the bag.”
“What?”
“Do not let him get it.”
“Which him?”
“Yes.”
Even then, she almost made me laugh.
The knot loosened.
Behind me, Owen cried out.
Elias had him pinned.
I grabbed the nearest object.
Metal bed rail.
Swung.
It struck Elias across the shoulder.
He turned.
I hit him again.
He staggered.
Owen drove him backward into the wall.
I pulled Mara free.
“Can you walk?”
“Yes.”
“Then move.”
We ran into the hallway.
A second gunshot sounded behind us.
I nearly turned back.
Mara grabbed my arm.
“No.”
“Owen—”
“He chose to stay.”
“He may be hurt.”
“So may you if we go back.”
We reached the stairwell.
Footsteps thundered upward from below.
Police.
Plainclothes officers appeared with weapons drawn.
I raised my hands.
“Third floor. Room 318. Two men. Armed.”
They passed us.
Mara and I continued down.
Halfway to the second floor, she stopped.
“What?”
“My bag.”
“You don’t have a bag.”
“At my house.”
“What about it?”
“There is something there.”
My patience snapped.
“Can everyone stop hiding one more thing for five minutes?”
Her face softened.
“You really are mine.”
I almost cried.
Instead I said, “What?”
“Richard gave me a sealed packet three years ago.”
“What packet?”
“For you.”
“Why didn’t you give it to me?”
“Because I refused to meet you until he told you I was alive.”
“And he never did.”
“No.”
We reached the first floor.
Police escorted us outside.
Bennett ran toward us.
He stopped when he saw Mara.
For a moment, he looked like he had seen a ghost.
“Margaret?”
Mara stared at him.
“Bennett.”
His eyes filled.
“You remember me.”
“I remember you being twenty and obnoxious.”
He laughed once, then covered his face.
I watched them.
Another entire history existed among these people.
One in which my mother had not been dead.
One in which Richard had held every thread and somehow still failed to weave them back together.
Thomas approached from behind the police line.
Alive.
I had never been so relieved to see someone I still did not trust.
“You okay?”
“Yes.”
“Elias?”
I pointed toward the building.
“You know him?”
Thomas’s face tightened.
“I knew both Voss brothers.”
“Samuel is dead.”
He nodded.
“Police confirmed.”
“Who killed him?”
“Probably Elias.”
“Why?”
“Samuel had started talking to Richard.”
I stared.
“About what?”
“The continuation operation after the company collapsed.”
“Trafficking.”
Thomas looked at Mara.
“Yes.”
Bennett joined us.
“Owen?”
An officer came through the door.
“Alive. Gunshot wound to the shoulder.”
Relief moved across Bennett’s face so quickly he could not hide it.
“And Elias?”
“In custody.”
I exhaled.
For once, someone dangerous had not escaped.
Mara leaned against the ambulance.
I looked at her.
“Tell me about Walter.”
Her face changed.
“Not here.”
“Why not?”
“Because if Elias was willing to come himself, Walter’s location matters more than I thought.”
Thomas said, “You know where he is?”
“No.”
“But Richard did?”
“Three years ago.”
“What did he tell you?”
Mara looked at me.
“That Walter had been living under another identity.”
“Which one?”
“He never told me.”
“Why?”
“To protect me.”
I closed my eyes.
Of course.
Mara touched my arm.
“Anna.”
I looked at her.
“I argued with him.”
“That does not help.”
“I know.”
“You let him decide for both of us.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because every time I tried to come back into your life, Walter or someone connected to him surfaced.”
“So you stayed away.”
“Yes.”
“For thirty years.”
Her eyes filled.
“Yes.”
I wanted to scream.
I wanted to embrace her.
Both feelings were equally strong.
My phone buzzed.
Bennett had recovered the canvas bag during the police search.
The tracker remained inside.
The fake ledger intact.
The decoy blue folder intact.
Elias had never taken them.
But one officer handed me another object recovered from Elias’s coat.
A photograph.
Recent.
Richard.
Mara.
And a third man.
Taken only three years earlier.
I recognized the location.
Richard’s garden.
The same place Emily planted herbs.
The man between Richard and Mara was smiling.
Gray-haired.
Lean.
A face I knew.
Not from the old photographs.
From the last two days.
Thomas.
I looked up at him.
His face went still.
Mara whispered, “That is not Thomas Mercer.”
I stared.
Thomas did not move.
My mother continued.
“Thomas died nine years ago.”
The man we had trusted, questioned, followed, and allowed near Emily slowly raised his hands.
Bennett whispered, “Who the hell are you?”
He looked at me.
Then Mara.
And answered.
“Walter Grant.”
Click here to continue reading: PART 15: The Man Who Helped Me Find My Mother Admitted He Was My Father, but His Real Confession Changed Richard’s Entire Last Promise
The Morning After Richard’s Funeral, His Lawyer Said One Sentence That Made Our Five-Year Marriage Feel Like a Lie
Part 14 of 35
