Chapter 8 - The Truth Teresa Hid
I held the statement like it was something hot.
"She knew?" Elena whispered.
My mother stared at her own signature, then turned her wheelchair toward the window.
"Ma," I said. "Did Dad order the fire?"
Dr. Park touched my arm. "She may not be able to answer a complex question in a way you'll understand."
"Yes or no is enough."
"It wasn't enough seventeen years ago," Elena said. "Don't pretend it's enough now."
That landed harder than a punch.
Teresa took the pen Dr. Park offered. Her hand shook violently. She wrote one word: THREAT.
I waited.
She wrote SON.
"He threatened me?" I asked. "Or you thought he'd threaten me?"
She began to cry before she could answer.
I remembered being twenty-one, standing by my father's side at the memorial, promising I would punish whoever had taken Camille. He had held my shoulder while the television cameras rolled.
Maybe my mother had seen him make a monster out of her surviving child and thought silence was the only way to keep me alive.
I called our attorney, Abigail Ward, a woman who had spent more than a decade explaining what my signatures meant before I gave them away.
"Can we take this to the police?" I asked.
"Yes. But don't pretend they'll ignore the criminal business you've run since then. We need to preserve the evidence and arrange counsel for everyone involved."
"I don't want another cover-up."
"Then stop treating accountability like a favor you're doing the world."
I had hired Abigail because she never flattered me. At that moment I was grateful.
Elena went upstairs with Teresa. I stayed by the piano, listening to Camille's unfinished song.
Twenty minutes later, Miles rushed in.
"A service vehicle just pulled into the rear courtyard. It's marked as a medical transport."
"I canceled all transfers."
"I know. The paperwork has your signature."
On his tablet, two men in scrubs pushed an empty stretcher toward the east entrance.
May you like
Behind them stood Dr. Shaw.
And beside Shaw, giving orders, was Victor Kessler.
