Chapter 15 - The Guest RoomI returned to Mom's house Tuesday night.
No one knew.
The house was dark.
The front door was locked.
I entered through the side.
The guest room was empty.
The bed had been stripped.
Amanda's family hadn't returned.
I searched the walls.
Nothing.
Closet.
Nothing.
Under the mattress.
Nothing.
Then I noticed the nightstand.
One drawer didn't close properly.
I pulled it.
Behind it was a panel.
The panel opened.
Inside was a small key.
My father's initials.
D.C.
I knew exactly what it opened.
The box from the old desk.
I took it out.
The key fit a hidden lock.
Inside was a microfilm cartridge.
And a note.
You looked in the obvious places first. Good.
I nearly laughed.
Even dead or missing, my father was still infuriatingly clever.
The microfilm contained financial records.
Names.
Payments.
Dates.
But the final page contained one name.
The name Robert had marked.
And beside it:
ORIGINATOR.
I stared.
The name belonged to my mother.
Not Amanda.
Not Robert.
Mom.
She had started it.
She had created the first shell company.
She had transferred the first funds.
She had recruited Amanda.
She had contacted Victor.
But why?
Then I found another document.
A letter written by my mother eight years earlier.
It was addressed to my father.
You think I chose this because I wanted money.
The next line:
I chose it because you were going to expose the wrong people.
Then:
If the truth comes out, Claire will be killed.
I read the rest.
Mom had discovered Victor was planning to assassinate my father.
She believed she could protect everyone by creating a fake financial scandal around my father.
She planned to make him disappear temporarily.
But Amanda panicked.
Victor discovered the plan.
Everything spiraled.
My father's disappearance had been staged.
His funeral had been manipulated.
The body was someone else.
And Mom had spent eight years trying to keep Victor convinced Dad was dead.
Then Thanksgiving happened.
The one event she couldn't control.
Because Dad was coming back.
I heard a noise behind me.
I turned.
Mom stood in the doorway.
"I knew you'd find it."
I pointed the gun-shaped flashlight I was holding.
She smiled sadly.
"Your father always said you were more like him than me."
"You started all of this."
"Yes."
"You ruined my life."
"I saved it."
"You stole my identity."
"I created the trail."
"You let Amanda betray me."
"I gave her a way to survive."
"You humiliated me Friday."
"I needed you to leave."
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"Because Victor had people watching you."
I looked at her.
"And now?"
"Now it's too late."
The house lights suddenly came on.
Amanda stood behind Mom.
Mara was outside.
And a voice came from the hallway.
A voice I hadn't heard in eight years.
"Claire."
I turned.
My father stepped into the room.
Alive.
Older.
Scarred.
But alive.
Mom began crying.
Dad looked at her.
Then at me.
Then said:
"Thanksgiving is not going to be a family reunion."
He held up a phone.
"It's an arrest operation."
Before I could answer, the windows shattered.
Gunfire erupted outside.
Dad grabbed me.
May you like
"Down!"
And the house exploded into chaos.
