Chapter 6 - The Woman Who Was Supposed to Be Dead
# Chapter 6 - The Woman Who Was Supposed to Be Dead
Victoria Bennett had spent twenty years mourning her mother.
Now she was standing in my parents' living room, listening to a woman claim that Eleanor Bennett had been alive nine years ago—and had personally ordered Adrian's disappearance.
"What order?" I demanded.
My mother looked toward the staircase.
"Emily, please. Not with Lily in the house."
"Then whisper."
Victoria stepped closer.
"Mrs. Carter, my mother died of cancer when I was seventeen. I attended her funeral. I watched them lower her coffin into the ground."
My mother stared at her.
"I know what you were told."
Victoria's expression hardened.
"What I was told?"
"Your mother was at St. Catherine's Medical Center the night Adrian was transferred. I recognized her from the newspapers. She spoke to the doctors, and they listened."
"That's impossible."
"She told them Adrian was not to receive visitors. No telephone calls. No information released to anyone outside the family."
My heart hammered.
"And Michael?"
"He was standing beside her."
I closed my eyes.
Michael had been there.
My husband had been there when Adrian was taken away.
And years later, he'd walked into my life pretending to be a stranger.
Victoria backed toward the fireplace.
"My mother couldn't have been there."
My mother lowered her voice.
"She looked older than in the photographs. Thinner. But it was her."
"Did she tell you her name?" Victoria asked.
"No."
"Then you could have mistaken someone else for her."
"Perhaps."
Victoria seemed startled by the admission.
My mother continued.
"But I remember her voice. She was arguing with Michael. She said Adrian had become a liability."
Victoria stared at her.
"And what did Michael say?"
My mother hesitated.
"He told her that Adrian had already lost enough."
For a moment, nobody spoke.
Then my mother added, "She told him he didn't understand what was at stake."
Victoria turned away.
I could see her hands trembling.
For the first time, I wondered whether the Bennett family had stolen more than my son.
Perhaps they had stolen Victoria's mother too.
"Where's the music box?" I asked.
My mother looked at me sharply.
"What music box?"
"The one Adrian gave me before the accident."
Her face changed.
She knew exactly what I meant.
"Emily, why are you looking for that?"
"Because Adrian may have hidden something inside it."
My mother sat heavily on the sofa.
"Oh, God."
I knelt beside her.
"Mom?"
She covered her face.
"I thought getting rid of it would keep you safe."
My blood ran cold.
"What did you do?"
"I didn't throw it away."
"Then where is it?"
She looked toward the hallway.
"Your father found it in your old bedroom after you moved out. He was going to donate it with some other things."
I felt my stomach drop.
"But I stopped him," she continued. "I put it in the attic."
I exhaled.
"Thank God."
My mother shook her head.
"Don't thank God yet."
"Why?"
"Because someone came looking for it."
Victoria turned.
"Who?"
My mother swallowed.
"A woman."
"What woman?" I demanded.
"She said she was from an insurance company. She claimed some belongings connected to Adrian's estate had been improperly transferred."
"When?"
"About eighteen months ago."
The same period when Margaret Vale disappeared.
I looked at Victoria.
She had noticed the connection too.
"Did you give it to her?" I asked.
"No."
"Did she leave?"
"Eventually."
My mother hesitated.
"But two days later, someone broke into the house."
I stared at her.
"You never told me there was a break-in."
"Nothing valuable was taken."
"Except?"
She looked down.
"The music box."
For several seconds, I couldn't speak.
Then Victoria asked, "Was there a police report?"
My mother nodded.
"Your father filed one. They never found anything."
I stood slowly.
The music box had been missing for eighteen months.
Margaret Vale had disappeared eighteen months ago.
Samuel had vanished from his adoptive home around the same time.
And someone had recently started sending me photographs, documents, and threats.
I didn't believe in coincidences anymore.
"Did the woman give you a name?" I asked.
My mother frowned.
"She left a business card."
"Do you still have it?"
"I might."
She went to the kitchen and opened a drawer filled with receipts, old appointment cards, and household paperwork.
After several minutes, she found a small white card.
She handed it to me.
The name printed across the front was:
EVELYN CROSS
PRIVATE ESTATE SERVICES
Below it was a telephone number.
No address.
No website.
Victoria took one look at the card and went completely still.
"Where did you get this?"
My mother frowned.
"I just told you."
Victoria shook her head.
"No. This name."
I watched her face.
"Do you know Evelyn Cross?"
She didn't answer.
"Victoria."
Her voice was barely audible.
"That was my mother's maiden name."
At 7:18 p.m., I received another message.
Five hours remaining.
Below it was a photograph of Samuel sitting on the floor beside Adrian's bed.
My son was holding Adrian's hand.
I stared at the image.
For nine years, I had imagined what it would be like to see them together.
I had pictured Adrian lifting our son onto his shoulders.
Teaching him to ride a bicycle.
Helping him with homework.
Instead, I was looking at a frightened child holding the hand of a man who barely seemed conscious.
The cruelty of it made me feel sick.
Victoria looked over my shoulder.
"They're keeping them together."
"Does that mean anything?"
"Possibly."
I turned on her.
"Stop treating this like a business negotiation."
She met my eyes.
"I'm trying to understand why someone would kidnap two people, threaten to kill one, and then allow them to remain in the same room."
"Because they're monsters."
"Maybe."
She pointed toward Samuel's wrist.
"Look."
The hospital bracelet was visible again.
The faded plastic band I had seen outside Hawthorne Academy.
"He's still wearing it," I whispered.
"Why?"
"It's all he had when he was little."
Victoria frowned.
"Margaret kept that bracelet for years. She was extremely protective of it."
"How do you know?"
"She told me."
I looked at her sharply.
"You spoke to Margaret?"
"Many times."
"When?"
"Before she disappeared."
I stared at Victoria.
"You told me you didn't know what happened to her."
"I don't."
"That wasn't my question."
Victoria exhaled.
"Margaret contacted me shortly before she vanished. She believed someone had discovered where Adrian was being treated."
"Who?"
"She wouldn't say."
"What did she want?"
Victoria looked toward the window.
"Protection for Samuel."
I felt anger rising again.
"And you couldn't provide it?"
"I tried."
"He's been sleeping behind a grocery store."
"I know."
"Then you failed."
Victoria accepted the accusation without defending herself.
That frightened me more than another argument would have.
After a moment, she said, "Margaret believed Samuel possessed something that could expose the people responsible for Adrian's accident."
I stared at her.
"He's a child."
"Exactly. Nobody would suspect him."
My eyes dropped to the bracelet.
A small piece of plastic.
Nine years old.
Still wrapped around my son's wrist.
Suddenly, I remembered how fiercely he'd protected it when I touched his arm.
Don't take it.
I had assumed it was sentimental.
What if it was more?
"What if Margaret hid something in the bracelet?" I whispered.
Victoria looked at me.
"Like what?"
"I don't know."
"A memory card?"
"Maybe."
She shook her head.
"That would be difficult to conceal in a standard hospital band."
"Then perhaps something was written on it."
Victoria leaned closer to the photograph.
"The original identification number."
I looked up.
"What?"
"Medical records use identification numbers. If Margaret preserved the bracelet, perhaps it connects Samuel to records someone tried to erase."
My heart began pounding.
The bracelet might not simply prove where Samuel was born.
It might prove what happened afterward.
And whoever had taken him might not yet understand why he refused to remove it.
At eight, my father returned home.
He stopped in the doorway when he saw Victoria.
His expression changed immediately.
"Emily, why is she here?"
I stood.
"Dad, we need to talk."
He looked toward my mother.
"What have you told her?"
"Enough," she whispered.
His face hardened.
"No."
I stared at him.
"No what?"
He placed his keys on the table.
"We agreed never to discuss this again."
My stomach tightened.
"You knew too?"
He didn't answer.
I felt something inside me give way.
"How many people knew Adrian was alive?"
My father closed his eyes.
"Emily—"
"How many?"
He looked exhausted.
"Not as many as you think."
I laughed bitterly.
"That's supposed to comfort me?"
He sat down.
For the first time in my life, my father looked old.
"I was trying to keep this family together."
"By lying to me?"
"By keeping your mother and brother alive."
I stopped.
"What does that mean?"
He glanced toward Victoria.
She folded her arms.
"Mr. Carter, if your family was threatened, we need to know by whom."
My father gave a humorless laugh.
"You Bennetts always want names after the damage is done."
"Please," I whispered.
He looked at me.
"Three weeks after Adrian's accident, a man came to my repair shop."
"What man?"
"He said he represented people who wanted to make sure you accepted the adoption arrangement."
"Charles?"
"No."
"Then who?"
My father hesitated.
"He never gave me a real name."
"What did he want?"
"He showed me photographs of your brother leaving school. Your mother shopping. You walking home from work."
My stomach turned.
"He said accidents happen when families refuse to cooperate."
I covered my mouth.
My father continued.
"I thought Charles Bennett was behind it. I still think he was involved. But the man said something strange."
"What?"
"He said Charles was no longer making the important decisions."
Victoria's expression changed.
My father looked directly at her.
"He said the Bennett family had a new guardian."
A silence settled over the room.
Then Victoria whispered, "That's what my mother used to call herself."
I turned.
"What?"
"The guardian of the family."
Her voice was hollow.
"Whenever Charles made a reckless decision, she said it was her responsibility to protect the Bennett name."
I stared at her.
"Even after she supposedly died?"
Victoria said nothing.
At 8:46 p.m., my phone rang.
Michael.
I almost rejected the call.
Then I remembered Adrian's voice.
Don't trust Daniel.
And Michael's desperate warning before the line went dead.
I answered.
"Emily?"
He sounded exhausted.
"Where are you?"
"Somewhere safe."
"Is Lily with you?"
"Yes."
He exhaled.
"Thank God."
I gripped the phone.
"Where have you been?"
"Trying to find Adrian and Samuel."
"Did you?"
"Not yet."
"Then why should I believe anything you say?"
There was a long silence.
Finally, Michael whispered, "Because I'm done lying."
I closed my eyes.
"That's what you should have said nine years ago."
"I know."
"Did you know Adrian before the accident?"
"Yes."
"Did you know he survived?"
"Yes."
"Did you meet me because Charles ordered you to?"
Michael didn't answer immediately.
Then he said, "I was assigned to monitor you."
My heart broke all over again.
"And our marriage?"
"That wasn't part of the assignment."
I pressed my fingers against my forehead.
"How am I supposed to believe that?"
"You don't have to."
His voice cracked.
"But I love you, Emily. I love Lily. And I have spent years trying to undo what I helped set in motion."
I swallowed.
"What did you do?"
Silence.
Then:
"I gave Daniel the location of Adrian's meeting."
I stared at the wall.
"Why?"
"Because Daniel told me Adrian was planning to sell the evidence."
"Adrian would never do that."
"I know that now."
"What happened after you told him?"
Michael's breathing changed.
"Someone intercepted Adrian before he reached the meeting."
"Who?"
"I never saw their face."
"Michael."
"I swear."
I thought about Daniel.
His confession.
His final words from the sedan.
Adrian was never supposed to survive the accident.
"Daniel arranged the crash," I whispered.
"I believe he helped arrange it."
"Then why is he still alive?"
"Because Daniel wasn't acting alone."
My stomach tightened.
"Who was he working for?"
Michael hesitated.
"Emily, there's a reason I never told you about Eleanor Bennett."
Victoria stepped closer.
I put the phone on speaker.
"What reason?"
Michael exhaled.
"Because Eleanor was supposed to be dead long before Adrian's accident."
Victoria gripped the edge of the table.
"Michael," she said.
He went silent.
"Victoria?"
"Tell me where my mother is."
A long pause.
Then Michael whispered, "I don't know."
"Don't lie."
"I'm not."
"Was she alive nine years ago?"
"Yes."
Victoria's eyes filled.
"Did you see her?"
"Yes."
She covered her mouth.
For several seconds, nobody spoke.
Then Michael said, "Victoria, your mother didn't die of cancer."
Victoria slowly lowered her hand.
"What?"
"She disappeared after discovering something about Charles's business."
"That's impossible."
"Charles arranged the funeral."
Victoria shook her head.
"No."
"He told everyone she was dead because she had become a threat to him."
I stared at the phone.
"Then why was she helping him hide Adrian?"
Michael's voice dropped.
"Because by then, she had made a deal with someone else."
"Who?"
Before he could answer, another call came through.
Unknown number.
Michael saw the interruption on his end.
"Emily, don't answer that."
But I already had.
The caller didn't speak immediately.
I heard a faint mechanical hum.
Then a woman's voice.
Calm.
Elegant.
Almost gentle.
"Emily Carter."
I froze.
"Who is this?"
"You've been asking questions about my family."
Victoria went rigid.
The woman continued.
"I understand why. You've been given so many contradictory stories."
I looked at Victoria.
Her face had turned white.
"Who are you?" I repeated.
The woman sighed softly.
"Someone who remembers you when you were very young."
Victoria stepped toward the phone.
"Mother?"
Silence.
Then a quiet laugh.
"Victoria."
Victoria's knees nearly buckled.
"Oh, my God."
"Still so dramatic, darling."
Victoria began crying.
"You're alive."
"Obviously."
"Where have you been?"
"That isn't important tonight."
Victoria's expression changed.
"Not important?"
"I have more urgent matters to discuss."
I gripped the phone.
"Where is Samuel?"
The woman paused.
"Your son is a remarkable child, Emily."
My blood ran cold.
"Don't touch him."
"He has Adrian's eyes."
"Where is he?"
"And Adrian's stubbornness."
I could barely breathe.
"If you hurt either of them—"
"Threats won't help you."
Her voice remained perfectly composed.
"What I need from you is very simple."
"What?"
"The music box."
I stopped breathing.
Victoria looked at me.
The woman continued.
"Adrian gave it to you shortly before his accident."
My heart hammered.
"I don't have it."
"I know."
"Then why are you calling?"
"Because you know where it went."
"I don't."
A pause.
Then her voice sharpened.
"Emily, I have spent eighteen months searching for something hidden inside that box. I will not allow sentimentality to interfere now."
I swallowed.
"What was inside it?"
"Something my son stole."
"Adrian didn't steal anything."
"Adrian was a good boy with terrible judgment."
I felt tears burning behind my eyes.
"He was trying to expose corruption."
The woman laughed softly.
"Is that what they told you?"
I went still.
"What do you mean?"
"Your precious Adrian wasn't trying to destroy the Bennett empire."
"Then what was he doing?"
"He was trying to save it."
I stared at the phone.
"From whom?"
The woman didn't answer.
Instead, she said, "You have until midnight."
The line disconnected.
For several seconds, nobody moved.
Then Victoria sank into a chair.
"My mother."
Her voice sounded broken.
"She really is alive."
I wanted to comfort her.
But my own fear was swallowing me.
Eleanor Bennett had been presumed dead for twenty years.
She had apparently helped hide Adrian after his accident.
She knew about the music box.
And she was now demanding something I no longer possessed.
My father suddenly stood.
"Wait."
We all turned.
He looked toward the hallway.
"The break-in."
I frowned.
"What about it?"
He rubbed his forehead.
"I never told your mother everything."
My mother stared at him.
"Robert?"
He looked ashamed.
"The music box wasn't stolen."
I felt my heart stop.
"What?"
"I moved it before the break-in."
I stared at him.
"Where?"
He hesitated.
"To the repair shop."
"Why?"
"Because the woman who came asking about it frightened me. I thought it might be evidence."
I stepped closer.
"Do you still have it?"
He nodded.
"It's in the locked storage room."
For the first time all evening, hope broke through the fear.
"Then we need to get it."
Victoria stood.
"Immediately."
The repair shop was twenty minutes away.
My father drove.
Victoria sat beside him.
I sat in the back, clutching my phone.
Michael kept calling.
I didn't answer.
Not because I wanted to punish him.
Because I didn't know which of his words were safe to believe.
At 9:31 p.m., we reached the shop.
The building stood at the end of a quiet industrial street.
My father unlocked the side entrance.
Inside, the air smelled of motor oil and old rubber.
He led us through the garage to a narrow storage room.
Metal shelves lined the walls.
Boxes were stacked from floor to ceiling.
He unlocked a cabinet.
Removed a dusty cardboard box.
And placed it on the workbench.
My hands shook as I opened it.
Inside was a small wooden music box.
Dark mahogany.
A brass clasp.
A tiny carved bird on the lid.
I recognized it immediately.
Adrian had given it to me on a rainy Thursday afternoon.
He'd smiled when I asked why he was being so mysterious.
Just promise you'll keep it.
I touched the carved bird.
For a moment, I could almost hear his laughter.
Then I opened the lid.
The familiar melody began to play.
Soft.
Delicate.
Heartbreaking.
Victoria leaned closer.
"Is there a hidden compartment?"
"I don't know."
My father examined the bottom.
"There are screws here."
He fetched a small screwdriver.
Carefully, he removed the wooden base.
Beneath the music mechanism was a narrow cavity.
Inside lay a tiny black memory card wrapped