Chapter 9 - The KillerI drove to Mom's house alone.
The children stayed with a friend.
I carried a recorder in my pocket.
The front door was unlocked.
Mom was sitting at the kitchen table.
She looked smaller than I remembered.
Older.
Defeated.
"You're finally here."
"Tell me."
She looked at the recorder in my hand.
"I deserve that."
"Did you kill Dad?"
Her eyes filled with tears.
"No."
"Then who did?"
"I don't know."
"You said there was a real killer."
"I said there was a person responsible."
"Who?"
Mom looked toward the hallway.
"Amanda."
Everything went silent.
My sister?
"No."
Mom nodded.
"Your father found out Amanda had been stealing money."
"I know."
"He threatened to report her."
"I know."
"He told her she had to confess."
Mom's voice broke.
"What happened?"
"Amanda panicked."
"Then?"
"They argued."
"Where?"
"In the garage."
"What happened?"
Mom closed her eyes.
"Your father fell."
I stared.
"Fell?"
"He hit his head."
"Accident?"
Mom didn't answer.
"Mom."
"Amanda called me."
"Why?"
"She was crying."
"What did she say?"
"She said Dad was dead."
I felt sick.
"What did you do?"
"I went there."
"And?"
"He was still breathing."
My heart stopped.
"What?"
Mom whispered:
"He was alive."
I stood.
"Mom, what did you do?"
She covered her face.
"I was terrified."
"WHAT DID YOU DO?"
"I didn't call an ambulance."
The room seemed to tilt.
"You let him die?"
"I thought he would expose Amanda."
"Mom!"
"I was afraid!"
Tears streamed down her face.
"He was going to send her to prison. He would destroy the family."
"You chose Amanda."
"I know."
"You left Dad there?"
She shook her head.
"No."
"What?"
"Amanda did."
I couldn't breathe.
Mom whispered:
"She came back."
"Why?"
"To finish it."
Silence.
My voice became barely audible.
"How?"
Mom stared at the table.
"I never saw it."
"Didn't see what?"
"She said she'd moved him."
My stomach turned.
"Where?"
Mom shook her head.
"I never asked."
"After eight years, you never asked?"
"I was afraid."
"Of Amanda?"
Mom looked at me.
"No."
"Then who?"
She whispered:
"Victor."
I stepped back.
"Victor was there?"
"He came later."
"After Dad died?"
"Yes."
"What did he do?"
"He took the files."
"Which files?"
"The ones proving the money transfers."
"And the body?"
Mom looked at me.
"We never found it."
I froze.
"What?"
My father had a funeral.
A coffin.
Burial.
I had watched it.
I had cried.
I had believed.
Mom whispered:
"The coffin was closed."
I felt the room disappear.
"You're lying."
"No."
"My father was buried."
"Something was buried."
"What?"
"I don't know."
Suddenly headlights swept across the kitchen window.
A car stopped outside.
Mom's face drained of color.
"He's here."
"Victor?"
She shook her head.
"No."
"Who?"
Mom whispered the name.
"Amanda."
The front door opened.
My sister stepped inside.
She was smiling.
And in her hand was an envelope.
"Mom," she said calmly.
Then she looked at me.
"You're finally asking the right questions."
May you like
She placed the envelope on the table.
"Now let's see if you're ready for the answer."
