The next morning, Mara returned to the farmhouse.
Her father was outside chopping wood.
He looked up when he saw her.
“You came early.”
“You lied to us again.”
The axe stopped halfway through its swing.
Daniel stepped out of the car behind her.
Their father set the axe down.
“What did you find?”
Mara held up the notebook.
His face changed.
“Where?”
“Evidence storage.”
He walked toward them.
“Give it to me.”
“No.”
“Mara.”
“You told us Mom knew.”
He went still.
Daniel stepped forward.
“You said she wasn't involved.”
“I said she wasn't involved with Keller.”
“That isn't what you said.”
Their father looked at the notebook.
“She was trying to help me.”
“How?”
“She kept records.”
Mara opened the notebook.
“Why did you let us believe she died without knowing any of this?”
His eyes lowered.
“Because I wanted you to remember her as your mother.”
Mara's voice hardened.
“You don't get to decide what memories we're allowed to have.”
He accepted that without argument.
“She found the property scheme before I did.”
Daniel stared.
“Then why did she die?”
Their father looked toward the trees.
“She was followed.”
“By Keller?”
“No.”
“Then who?”
He shook his head.
“I never found out.”
Mara opened the notebook to the photograph.
“Who is this?”
Her father's face went pale.
“That woman.”
“You know her.”
“Yes.”
“Who is she?”
He sat down.
“Her name is Elaine Mercer.”
Daniel looked at Mara.
Their father continued.
“She worked for Keller's company.”
“And Mom trusted her?”
“No.”
“Then why are they together?”
“She was trying to get evidence out.”
Mara turned the photograph over.
“What happened at the cabin?”
Their father did not answer.
Daniel stepped closer.
“Dad.”
“I wasn't there.”
“You said you were protecting her.”
“I was supposed to meet her.”
“When?”
“The night she died.”
Mara felt the room grow cold.
“You were supposed to be there.”
“Yes.”
“But you weren't.”
“No.”
“Why?”
Their father looked at her.
“Because Keller found me first.”
Mara's anger softened for only a second.
“What happened to Mom?”
“I don't know.”
Daniel shook his head.
“You let us believe she was dead.”
“She was declared dead.”
“That isn't an answer.”
“No.”
Their father stood.
“It's the truth.”
Mara looked at the notebook again.
A line beneath the photograph had been crossed out.
She tilted the page toward the light.
There was writing underneath.
I DID NOT DIE.
Daniel froze.
“What?”
Mara pointed.
Their mother had written it.
I DID NOT DIE.
Beneath it was another line.
Not yet.
Their father closed his eyes.
“That wasn't there when I last saw the notebook.”
Mara looked at him.
“When did you last see it?”
“Before your mother died.”
“Then someone added it later.”
Daniel reached for the page.
“Who had access?”
Their father shook his head.
“I don't know.”
Mara turned another page.
A map was drawn there.
The lake.
The cabin.
The old garage.
The cemetery.
Then a fourth location.
A church.
Daniel recognized it.
“Saint Mary's.”
Mara looked at him.
“Why?”
“Mom used to go there.”
Their father stared at the map.
“She met someone there.”
“Who?”
“I never knew.”
The three of them sat in silence.
Mara looked at her father.
“Did Mom know you were planning to disappear?”
“Yes.”
“Did she help?”
“Yes.”
“Then why did she let us believe she was dead?”
“I don't know.”
The uncertainty in his voice was genuine.
That frightened Mara more than another lie would have.
They drove to Saint Mary's that afternoon.
The church was almost empty.
An elderly caretaker met them near the side entrance.
Mara showed him the photograph.
He stared at it for several seconds.
“I remember her.”
Mara's pulse quickened.
“When?”
“Many years ago.”
“Did she come alone?”
“Usually.”
“Did she meet someone?”
The caretaker hesitated.
“Sometimes.”
“Who?”
“A woman.”
“Elaine?”
He shook his head.
“No.”
“Then who?”
The caretaker pointed toward a small storage room.
“She left something there.”
Inside, beneath old hymn books, they found a wooden box.
Mara opened it.
There was a cassette.
A key.
And a folded note.
The note contained only one sentence.
For the children, when they are old enough to understand.
Daniel stared at the cassette.
“Do we have a player?”
The caretaker brought one from the office.
Mara pressed play.
Static.
Then their mother's voice.
Mara covered her mouth.
Her mother's voice sounded younger than she remembered.
“If you're hearing this, I didn't leave because I wanted to.”
Daniel sat down.
Their mother continued.
“Your father thinks I am dead.”
Mara looked at Daniel.
“He thought you were dead too?”
The recording continued.
“I need you both to understand that I chose silence because someone threatened to take you away.”
A pause.
Then the sentence that changed everything.
“The person threatening me was not Keller.”
Mara leaned toward the recorder.
The tape crackled.
“He works beside Keller.”
The recording ended.
The room remained silent.
Their father stood in the doorway.
He had followed them.
Mara looked at him.
“You didn't know.”
He shook his head.
“No.”
The key lay on the table.
Daniel picked it up.
“What does this open?”
The caretaker examined it.
“There's an old archive beneath the church.”
Mara looked at her father.
“Then that's where we're going.”
Before anyone moved, the church bell rang.
Once.
Then again.
A car stopped outside.
Their father looked through the window.
His expression changed.
“Leave.”
Mara turned.
“Why?”
He whispered the name.
“Elaine.”
Click Here to continue read next: PART11: Elaine Arrived With a Story That Could Explain Their Mother’s Disappearance, but the Hidden Archive Held Proof That Someone Had Been Lying for Decades
By the Time Mara Reached the Porch, the Fire Had Already Taken the One Thing Her Brother Was Trying to Protect
Part 10 of 16
