Chapter 8 - THE FILE NAMED ABRAM
The flash drive contained forty-seven folders.
The first forty-six were financial records.
The last one was named ABRAM.
Deputy Morgan had the drive examined before anyone opened it.
By noon, investigators confirmed there was no malicious software.
Abram sat beside Celia’s hospital bed when Morgan brought in a secured laptop.
Felix and Dana stood near the window.
Leonard had been moved to a protected location.
Nobody said where.
Morgan inserted the drive.
“Your father encrypted some folders.”
“With what password?”
“We don’t know.”
Abram watched the screen.
The ABRAM folder opened without one.
Inside were seven files.
The earliest dated from when Abram was nineteen.
The newest had been created two weeks before Elias died.
Abram opened the first document.
A letter.
Son,
If you are reading this, I failed to tell you something while I still had the courage.
Abram stopped.
Celia touched his hand.
“Keep going.”
Abram read aloud.
Doreen loves control more than she loves peace.
For years I mistook control for strength.
I helped her.
I excused her.
I let her convince me that protecting the family meant hiding anything that embarrassed us.
That was my greatest failure.
Felix looked toward the floor.
Abram continued.
You and your brother learned to apologize for things you had not done because it was easier than making her angry.
I watched it.
I allowed it.
I am sorry.
Abram’s voice caught.
He remembered childhood dinners.
Doreen refusing to speak to him for three days because he chose baseball instead of piano.
Felix giving up a college scholarship because Doreen said the school was too far away.
Elias always smoothing things over.
Always saying,
“Just apologize to your mother.”
Abram continued reading.
There is something else you must know.
If Doreen ever attempts to declare you incompetent, unwell, unstable, or incapable of managing your own affairs, do not accept any doctor she recommends.
Abram stopped.
Everyone looked at him.
Morgan leaned closer.
The letter continued.
She has done this before.
The room became silent.
Abram scrolled.
The next paragraph contained a name.
Margaret Mercer.
Abram frowned.
“Who is Margaret?”
Felix whispered.
“Dad’s sister.”
Abram looked at him.
“We don’t have an aunt Margaret.”
Felix shook his head.
“Yes, we do.”
Abram stared.
“What?”
Felix looked uncomfortable.
“She died when you were little.”
“How?”
“I thought car accident.”
Celia looked toward Morgan.
“Another family death?”
Morgan wrote the name down.
Abram continued reading.
Margaret was not unstable.
Doreen convinced us she was.
Your aunt discovered withdrawals from your grandmother Ruth’s account.
Doreen told me Margaret was stealing.
I believed my wife.
I signed papers supporting emergency psychiatric treatment.
By the time I understood what happened, Margaret had been isolated from the family.
Abram’s hands went cold.
Dana whispered.
“Oh my God.”
The letter continued.
Margaret left Virginia after her release.
Doreen told everyone she died two years later.
I never saw proof.
Abram looked at Felix.
“Did you?”
Felix shook his head.
“No.”
Abram’s voice became quieter.
Dad believed she might still be alive.
Another file contained an address.
Portland, Maine.
Morgan immediately called an investigator.
Celia looked toward Abram.
“Your mother has been doing this for decades.”
Abram stared at the screen.
“And Dad helped.”
“For a while.”
“That doesn’t erase it.”
“No.”
Celia squeezed his hand.
“But he finally tried to stop it.”
Abram opened another file.
A scanned copy of the power-of-attorney document Doreen had recently forged.
Except this version was seven years old.
It carried Elias’s handwriting across the top.
SHE WILL USE THIS ON ABRAM NEXT.
Felix turned away.
Abram felt something inside him break.
This had not begun after his accident.
Doreen had been planning control over him for years.
She had waited.
For injury.
For marital conflict.
For any moment of weakness she could turn into evidence.
Morgan opened another document.
A spreadsheet listed payments.
Martin Vale.
A physician named Dr. Howard Kessler.
A private investigator named Seth Rourke.
A company called Meridian Family Services.
Dana frowned.
“I know Meridian.”
Everyone looked at her.
“They used to provide court-ordered psychiatric evaluations.”
Morgan typed the name into her tablet.
“They closed five years ago.”
Dana pointed toward one payment.
“Howard Kessler.”
“I remember him too.”
“From where?”
“He worked at St. Anne’s Behavioral Center.”
Abram stared.
“Where Aunt Margaret was taken?”
“We don’t know yet.”
Morgan called another investigator.
The next file contained an audio recording.
Elias and Martin.
Martin’s younger voice filled the room.
“You need to stop digging.”
Elias answered.
“You signed false affidavits.”
“I signed what Doreen gave me.”
“You knew.”
“I knew enough.”
“What did you do to Margaret?”
Martin became quiet.
Abram leaned closer.
Elias repeated.
“What did you do?”
Martin answered.
“I helped your wife protect the family.”
Elias slammed something.
“You buried my sister alive.”
Celia flinched at the phrase.
Not literally.
But after six days inside the shed, the words felt too close.
Martin continued.
“Margaret was going to destroy you.”
“No.”
“She was going to expose Doreen.”
“That is not the same thing.”
“It was to your wife.”
The recording ended.
Abram looked at Morgan.
“Find Margaret.”
“We’re trying.”
“And Kessler.”
“Already moving.”
Abram opened the final file.
A photograph appeared.
Doreen stood beside Martin.
Between them was a younger man Abram did not recognize.
Morgan leaned toward the screen.
“Hold on.”
She enlarged the image.
Felix frowned.
“Who is he?”
Morgan did not answer immediately.
She typed something into her tablet.
Then her expression changed.
“Seth Rourke.”
“The private investigator?”
“Yes.”
Morgan turned the tablet around.
A mugshot appeared.
Rourke had been arrested two years earlier for unlawful surveillance and evidence tampering.
Abram remembered the man in the hospital maintenance uniform.
“Could that be him?”
Morgan compared the faces.
“Older.”
“Heavier.”
“But yes.”
Abram’s anger surged.
“He photographed Celia.”
“Possibly.”
“He was at the hospital.”
“Possibly.”
“He threw the rock.”
“Again, possibly.”
Morgan’s phone rang.
She answered.
Everyone waited.
Her eyes shifted toward Abram.
“Where?”
She listened.
“When?”
Another pause.
“Send me the picture.”
Morgan ended the call.
“What?”
Abram asked.
“They found Martin Vale.”
“Alive?”
Morgan hesitated.
“Yes.”
“Where?”
“Bus station outside Charlottesville.”
Felix exhaled.
“Did he run?”
Morgan looked at the message arriving on her phone.
“He says Doreen attacked him.”
Abram stared.
“What?”
“He has a head injury.”
“He claims the blood in his car is his.”
Morgan continued reading.
“And he says Doreen forced him to drive.”
Celia spoke from the bed.
“He’s turning on her.”
Morgan nodded.
“Looks that way.”
“What did he tell them?”
Morgan looked directly at Abram.
“He says your mother has another property.”
Abram frowned.
“What property?”
“A farmhouse under a trust name.”
“Where?”
“About ninety miles west.”
Felix stared.
“Why?”
Morgan’s expression became grim.
“Martin says that is where Doreen planned to take Celia.”
Celia went completely still.
Abram’s jaw tightened.
Morgan continued.
“And according to Martin, someone is already living there.”
“Who?”
Morgan’s eyes moved toward the laptop screen.
Toward the name inside Elias’s letter.
May you like
Margaret Mercer.
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