I stared at the photograph until the screen dimmed in my hand.
My mother stood outside the old office building, exactly as she had looked during the final months of her life. Her coat was buttoned to the throat. One hand rested on the handle of her handbag. Michael stood beside her, speaking with an expression I had never seen on him before. He looked tense, almost protective.
And several feet behind them was David.
Not accidentally passing by.
Watching.
The timestamp was clear. Two weeks before my mother died.
I turned the phone toward Brenda.
“Who took this?”
She looked at the screen and covered her mouth.
“I don't know.”
“Look carefully.”
“I've never seen it.”
“You recognize the building?”
She nodded.
“It was one of your mother's old offices.”
“Why would David be there?”
Brenda's eyes moved toward the hallway.
“I don't know.”
“You keep saying that.”
“Because I don't know.”
I pressed the number that had sent the photograph. The call rang once, then went straight to voicemail. No greeting. No name. Nothing that identified the person.
I called again.
The same thing happened.
Brenda watched me.
“Maybe they don't want to speak.”
“Then they shouldn't have sent me the photograph.”
I saved the image and forwarded it to my attorney.
His reply came less than a minute later.
Do not delete anything. Do not contact the sender again. Come to my office first thing tomorrow.
I read the message twice.
Something about it bothered me.
Not the warning.
The speed.
My attorney had seen enough to know the photograph mattered.
I looked at Brenda.
“Where is David now?”
“He said he was going home.”
“To his house?”
She shook her head.
“To Jason's.”
I felt my stomach tighten.
“Why?”
“He said Jason had something he needed.”
“What?”
Brenda looked down.
“I don't know.”
I stood.
“You're coming with me.”
Her face went pale.
“Where?”
“To Jason's.”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because if Jason is there, this could become dangerous.”
I stopped.
“You're afraid of Jason?”
Brenda shook her head.
“I'm afraid of what he knows.”
That distinction stayed with me.
We drove separately.
I followed the address I already had for Jason, a small rental house across town. It was nearly nine when I arrived.
David's car was parked outside.
So was Jason's.
The lights inside were on.
I called my attorney.
He answered immediately.
“Don't go inside.”
“I wasn't planning to.”
“Good.”
“There are two cars.”
“Wait for me.”
I stood beside my car in the dark.
Five minutes later, a curtain moved upstairs.
Someone looked out.
Then the light disappeared.
My phone buzzed.
Another message.
This time from the same unknown number.
You are looking in the wrong house.
I stared at it.
Then another message arrived.
Your mother hid the evidence somewhere only you would search.
I felt a strange pressure behind my eyes.
Only I would search.
What had my mother known about me that could matter now?
I thought of the house where I grew up.
The kitchen.
Her office.
The old garden.
The attic.
The cedar chest.
Then I remembered something I had almost forgotten.
When I was twelve, my mother had hidden a birthday gift for me somewhere in the house. She told me I would find it only if I remembered what she always said when I was frightened.
I had searched for hours.
Eventually, I found the gift inside an old piano bench.
Her favorite hiding place.
I looked at my phone.
The piano.
I had not thought about it in years.
I called my attorney again.
“I need to go home.”
“Why?”
“I think I know where she hid something.”
“Don't search alone.”
“I won't.”
I hung up.
Before I could get into my car, the front door of Jason's house opened.
David stepped outside.
He saw me immediately.
For several seconds neither of us moved.
Then he walked toward me.
“What are you doing here?”
“I could ask you the same thing.”
“I told you I was checking on Jason.”
“Why?”
“He's my brother.”
“That doesn't answer the question.”
He stopped several feet away.
“You shouldn't be following me.”
“I wasn't.”
His eyes narrowed.
“Then why are you here?”
I held up my phone.
“Because someone sent me this.”
His face changed.
He looked at the photograph.
For one second, fear crossed his expression.
Then it disappeared.
“Where did you get that?”
“That is exactly what I want to know.”
He reached for the phone.
I pulled it away.
“Don't.”
“Sarah, give me that.”
“No.”
“You don't understand what you're holding.”
“Then explain it.”
He looked toward the house.
Jason appeared behind him.
His face was gray.
“Sarah,” he said.
“What?”
Jason stepped outside.
“Please go home.”
“Why?”
“Because you shouldn't be involved in this.”
I looked from one brother to the other.
“You're both saying the same thing.”
Jason lowered his eyes.
“That isn't good enough.”
David moved between us.
“Let's talk somewhere private.”
“No.”
“Sarah.”
“I am done having private conversations that somehow leave me knowing less than when they began.”
David's jaw tightened.
“You're making this worse.”
“Maybe.”
I held up the phone.
“But someone thinks I need to know the truth.”
Jason looked at the screen.
Then he whispered, “They found you.”
My pulse quickened.
“Who?”
He didn't answer.
David turned sharply toward him.
“Jason.”
Jason looked frightened.
Not guilty.
Frightened.
“Who found me?” I asked.
Jason shook his head.
“I can't.”
“You can.”
“No.”
“Then tell me why you're scared.”
He looked at David.
And for the first time, I saw the brothers differently.
David was angry.
Jason was terrified.
That difference mattered.
Jason finally spoke.
“Because your mother wasn't the only person who knew about the old company.”
I waited.
“There were others.”
“Who?”
“I don't know all their names.”
“You knew enough to take their money?”
His face crumpled.
“I made mistakes.”
“Where did the money go?”
He looked at David.
David closed his eyes.
Jason whispered, “Some of it went to people who promised they could make the debt disappear.”
“Who?”
“Men connected to the old business.”
My skin prickled.
“The same people my mother feared?”
Jason nodded.
I looked at David.
“You knew.”
He said nothing.
“You knew Jason was dealing with them.”
“Yes.”
“How long?”
“Months.”
“And my mother knew?”
“Yes.”
I felt the last piece fall into place.
The money they wanted from me wasn't simply about Jason's debts.
They were trying to pay someone.
Someone connected to my mother's past.
Someone who had enough leverage to frighten all three of them.
I stepped back.
“I'm going home.”
David reached for my arm.
I moved away.
“Don't touch me.”
He stopped.
“Sarah.”
“No.”
I looked at both brothers.
“If either of you comes to my house tonight, I will call the police.”
Then I got into my car.
As I drove away, my phone buzzed again.
Another message.
The piano bench.
I gripped the steering wheel.
My mother had hidden something there.
And whoever was sending those messages knew it.
Click here to continue reading: PART 6: Inside the Piano Bench, I Found a Key My Mother Had Hidden for Years and a Note Warning Me Never to Trust the Person Holding It
Six Months After My Mother’s Death, My Husband Arrived Before Sunrise With a Demand That Revealed More Than He Intended
Part 5 of 24
