Robert did not immediately repeat the words. He seemed to regret letting them leave his mouth at all. His hands rested on his knees, fingers spread as if he needed to feel the chair beneath him. Mara watched his face while her son slept against her chest, unaware that three generations of secrets had gathered around his hospital bassinet before he was even a day old.
"Ask Robert who cut the brake line," Mara said quietly.
Robert closed his eyes.
"You saw those words yourself?"
"Thomas sent me a photograph about six months before he died."
"Of the envelope?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
"To frighten me."
Mara stared at him. "Apparently it worked."
Robert leaned back and looked toward the ceiling. "Thomas had been sending messages for years. Sometimes nothing for months, then three in one night. Old photographs. Copies of invoices. Newspaper clippings from the crash. He wanted me to know he had never stopped."
"Never stopped what?"
"Digging."
"Or punishing you?"
Robert considered that. "Both."
Mara shifted carefully, pain tightening across her abdomen. The movement woke the baby just enough for him to make a soft snuffling sound. She adjusted the blanket around him and waited until he settled again. Robert watched with an expression she could not read.
"Did Elliot's car have a cut brake line?"
Robert answered too slowly.
"There was damage."
"That is not the same answer."
"The investigators found a leak in the rear brake line."
"Accidental?"
"They couldn't determine that conclusively."
"Was it cut?"
Robert rubbed his thumb against his palm.
"The report said the line had been compromised by a sharp instrument."
Mara felt the room become unnaturally still.
"And your family called that an accident?"
"The official cause was loss of control in severe weather."
"That isn't what I asked."
Robert looked away.
"No. We didn't tell the family about the brake line."
"Who knew?"
"The police. The insurance investigator. Thomas. Me. Evelyn."
"Patricia?"
Robert's mouth tightened.
"Eventually."
Mara studied him.
"Daniel?"
"No."
"Why?"
"He was fourteen."
"He is thirty-four now."
Robert had no answer.
Mara looked toward the door through which Daniel had left. "Thomas believed you knew who cut it."
"He believed I knew everything."
"Do you?"
Robert's head rose.
"No."
"That's not convincing."
"I don't."
"You lied about following Elliot. You lied about the folder. You lied about Thomas arriving before you. You lied to Daniel about Evelyn for his entire life. Why should this be the first truth?"
Robert absorbed the words without protesting.
After a moment he said, "Because I am tired."
Mara almost laughed.
"You don't get honesty credit because lying became exhausting."
"I know."
"No, I don't think you do."
Robert looked at the baby again.
Mara followed his gaze.
"Don't make him your reason for confessing."
"What?"
"My son. Don't look at him and pretend he suddenly made you understand integrity."
Robert's face flushed.
Mara lowered her voice.
"If you tell the truth now, tell it because Daniel deserves it. Because Evelyn deserved it. Because Elliot died carrying evidence people were afraid to face."
Robert nodded slowly.
Mara continued.
"Who had access to the car?"
"Which car?"
"The one Elliot drove."
"It was mine."
"Who used it?"
"Mostly me. Patricia occasionally."
"Thomas?"
"He had driven it before."
"Evelyn?"
"Once or twice."
"Could anyone have reached it that night?"
"It was parked in my driveway until Elliot took it."
"What about earlier that day?"
Robert frowned.
"I was at work until five."
"Where was the car?"
"At the office."
"With you?"
"Yes."
"Thomas's office too?"
Robert's expression changed slightly.
Mara noticed.
"You were still working together?"
"Technically."
"After the fires?"
"We were dissolving the partnership."
"So Thomas had access."
"He could have."
"And Elliot?"
"He came to the office that afternoon."
Mara stared at him.
"You left that out."
"I didn't think—"
"Stop saying that."
Robert lowered his eyes.
"What happened at the office?"
"Elliot arrived around three. He asked to speak to me privately."
"About the folder?"
"Yes."
"Where was Thomas?"
"Out."
"Are you certain?"
"I believed he was."
"That isn't the same thing."
Robert rubbed his face.
"The receptionist said he'd left."
"Who was the receptionist?"
"Patricia."
Mara froze.
"Your wife worked there?"
"For about a year."
"And she knew Elliot came in with evidence?"
Robert hesitated.
"She knew he came in. I don't know what she heard."
Mara felt a new line of tension forming.
"What happened after Elliot left?"
"He took his own car."
"Then how did he end up driving yours that night?"
"He came to the house later. His car was blocked in by Thomas's truck."
"But your car had been at the office all day."
"Yes."
"Who drove it home?"
"I did."
"Any stops?"
Robert stared at her.
"You think I cut the line."
"I think someone did."
"I went straight home."
"Did you inspect the car?"
"No."
"Did the brakes feel wrong?"
Robert frowned.
"No."
"Then whoever damaged it may have done so after you arrived home."
"Maybe."
"Who was at the house?"
"Patricia. Rebecca. Daniel."
"And then Elliot."
"Yes."
"Then Thomas."
"Yes."
"Evelyn?"
"Later."
Mara's thoughts moved slowly but steadily despite the medication.
"Was the car in the garage?"
"Driveway."
"Visible from the house?"
"From the kitchen."
"Did anyone go outside?"
Robert looked uncomfortable.
"We all did at different times."
"Who?"
He sighed.
"Patricia brought Rebecca inside after the argument started. Daniel had come downstairs. I sent him back up. Thomas walked around the side of the house at one point."
"Why?"
"He said he needed to calm down."
"For how long?"
"Five minutes. Maybe ten."
"Near your car?"
"Possibly."
Mara leaned back.
"So Thomas could have cut the line."
Robert nodded.
"But if Thomas cut it, why spend seventeen years accusing you?"
"I've asked myself that."
"Unless he didn't cut it."
"Correct."
"Who else?"
Robert stared at the floor.
Mara watched realization fight with reluctance on his face.
"Patricia," she said.
His head rose sharply.
"No."
"You thought of her."
"No."
"You did."
"Patricia would never—"
"Never what? Lie? Because your family appears to have made that a group activity."
Robert stood.
"My wife did not kill Elliot."
"I didn't say she did."
"You implied it."
"I asked who had access."
"She had no reason."
Mara looked at him.
"Then tell me what she knew."
Robert said nothing.
"There it is."
"Mara."
"What did Patricia know?"
Robert walked toward the window.
"More than I wanted her to."
"About the fraud?"
"Yes."
"About you and Evelyn?"
His silence was answer enough.
"When did she learn Daniel wasn't hers?"
"Before he was born."
"No. I mean when did she learn you'd been sleeping with Evelyn?"
Robert turned.
"The night Elliot died."
Mara felt a chill.
"How?"
"Elliot told her."
The baby stirred again, and Mara instinctively placed her palm against his small back.
"Why would Elliot tell Patricia?"
"He was angry."
"At you?"
"At everyone."
"What exactly did he say?"
Robert hesitated.
"He told Patricia that Thomas wasn't the only criminal in the family. He said I'd been hiding money and hiding a second family."
Mara frowned.
"Daniel hadn't been born."
"No."
"So Evelyn was already pregnant?"
"Yes."
"Did Elliot know?"
Robert nodded.
"And Patricia didn't?"
"Not until that night."
Mara stared at him.
"What did she do?"
"She slapped me."
"Understandable."
Robert almost smiled, but it vanished.
"Then she told me to leave."
"Yet later she raised Daniel."
Robert's eyes became wet.
"Patricia was complicated."
"Everyone is."
"She was furious with me, but she also believed Evelyn couldn't raise a baby safely while grieving Elliot and dealing with Thomas."
"So Patricia agreed to take Daniel."
"Months later."
Mara looked toward the door.
"And the night of the crash, Patricia had just learned her husband had impregnated another woman."
Robert said nothing.
"She had access to the car."
"Mara."
"She worked at the office."
"Stop."
"She could have known Elliot was carrying evidence. She could have known Elliot intended to expose you. She could have known the scandal would destroy her family."
Robert turned sharply.
"Patricia did not cut that brake line."
"Then why are you afraid of Thomas's envelope?"
His anger disappeared.
Mara saw it.
Fear again.
Robert sat slowly.
"Because Thomas accused her."
There it was.
Mara waited.
"Directly?"
"Not at first."
"What changed?"
"About a year before his death, he sent me a photograph."
"Of what?"
"My office parking lot."
"When?"
"The afternoon Elliot came to see me."
Mara's pulse quickened.
"What was in the photograph?"
"My car."
"Anything else?"
"Patricia."
"Where?"
"Crouched beside the rear wheel."
Mara said nothing.
Robert continued quickly.
"The photograph proves nothing. She could have dropped something. She could have noticed a problem. Thomas spent decades interpreting everything in the worst possible way."
"Did you ask Patricia?"
"No."
Mara stared at him.
"You saw a photograph of your wife beside the brake line of a car later found deliberately damaged, and you didn't ask her?"
Robert's eyes flashed.
"She was dying."
Mara stopped.
"When?"
"Thomas sent it eighteen months ago. Patricia had late-stage pancreatic cancer."
Daniel's mother had died thirteen months earlier. Mara remembered the hospice bed in the Ellisons' downstairs den, the soft hiss of oxygen, Patricia's hands becoming almost translucent against the blanket.
"What did you do?"
"I deleted the message."
"Of course you did."
Robert winced.
Mara continued. "Did Thomas know she was ill?"
"Yes."
"Why send it then?"
"He wanted me to ask her."
"Did he say that?"
Robert nodded.
"What exactly?"
"He wrote, 'You still have time to hear it from her.'"
Mara felt anger rise.
"And you chose not to."
"I couldn't."
"You wouldn't."
Robert did not argue.
"Did Patricia say anything before she died?"
Robert looked away.
Mara knew.
"What?"
"Two days before."
"What did she say?"
"She asked whether Thomas had contacted me."
Mara's breath caught.
"And?"
"I said no."
"What did she say?"
"She looked relieved."
Mara closed her eyes briefly.
"Then?"
"She said there were things Daniel could never know."
"What things?"
"She wouldn't explain."
"Did you ask?"
"Yes."
"And?"
Robert's voice lowered.
"She said, 'If he ever learns the truth about that night, he'll lose both his parents at once.'"
Mara stared.
The sentence lodged inside her.
Both his parents.
Robert and Patricia, as Daniel understood them.
Or Robert and Evelyn, biologically.
Mara could not tell which meaning Patricia intended.
Her phone vibrated on the bedside table.
A message from Daniel.
Found the box. Coming back now.
Below it came another message.
Mara, something is wrong.
She immediately called him.
Daniel answered on the first ring. Road noise filled the background.
"What happened?"
"I'm with your sister."
"What happened?"
"We opened nothing."
"Good."
"But the box wasn't where I left it."
Mara's stomach tightened.
"Where was it?"
"Kitchen table."
"Who moved it?"
"I don't know."
"Was the house locked?"
"Yes."
"Anything missing?"
A pause.
"One thing."
"What?"
"The envelope for Dad."
Mara looked directly at Robert.
He saw her expression and stood.
"What?"
Mara kept the phone to her ear.
"Daniel, are you sure?"
"The photographs, letters, tape, key—everything else is here. The envelope is gone."
Robert whispered, "No."
Daniel heard him.
"Dad's there?"
"Yes."
"Ask him who else knew about the envelope."
Mara looked at Robert.
"Who?"
Robert's face had gone completely pale.
"Only Thomas."
"Thomas is dead."
Robert shook his head.
"No."
Mara gripped the phone.
"What do you mean?"
"I mean Thomas didn't mail the box himself."
Daniel's voice came sharply through the speaker.
"Who did?"
Robert swallowed.
"My daughter."
Mara stared at him.
"Rebecca?"
Robert nodded.
Daniel went silent.
Then Mara heard a car horn and her sister's startled voice in the background.
Finally Daniel spoke.
"My sister knew about Thomas's box?"
Robert looked toward the floor.
"She was with him when he died."
Click here to continue reading: PART 6: Rebecca’s Hidden Role in Thomas’s Final Days Turned a Missing Envelope Into Evidence That Someone Was Still Controlling the Truth
I Woke After the Delivery to Discover My Husband Had Made One Permanent Decision While I Was Still Unconscious
Part 5 of 20
