Chapter 9 - My Mother and My Father
My mother did not come with police.
She came with Martin Keene.
Two private security men remained near the SUV.
Daniel moved into position behind the cabin.
My mother stepped onto the porch alone.
“Jonathan.”
My father stood behind the locked door.
“You should leave.”
“I’ve spent twelve years cleaning up your mistakes.”
“You spent twelve years hiding your crimes.”
Then I stepped beside him.
My mother saw me through the window.
For once, Eleanor Carlisle had no expression prepared.
“Emma.”
I unlocked the door before anyone could stop me.
My mother entered.
Rain glistened on her coat.
Her eyes moved from me to my father.
“You shouldn’t have brought her into this.”
My father laughed bitterly.
“She was always in it.”
My mother removed her gloves.
“You’ve filled her head with your version.”
“Did you know he survived?”
I asked.
She looked at me.
“Yes.”
The word landed like a stone.
“Did you threaten me to keep him away?”
Her eyes flicked toward my father.
“Martin handled certain communications.”
“That means yes.”
“It means I protected you.”
“From my father?”
“From chaos.”
My father stepped forward.
“You ordered the plane sabotaged.”
My mother didn’t flinch.
“No.”
He threw the ledger onto the table.
“Martin’s accounts say otherwise.”
She glanced at the papers.
“Martin moved money.”
“On whose instruction?”
“Mine.”
My stomach turned.
She admitted it as casually as if discussing household expenses.
“But I did not order that explosion.”
My father stared.
“Then who did?”
For the first time, my mother looked toward the door.
Toward Martin.
Martin had not entered.
He remained under the porch roof.
Watching us.
My mother’s face changed.
I noticed it immediately.
Fear.
Real fear.
“Eleanor,” my father said slowly.
“What aren’t you telling us?”
She lowered her voice.
“Martin was only supposed to scare you.”
My father went still.
“You paid him.”
“To create financial pressure.”
“The plane exploded.”
“I know.”
“And then he threatened Emma.”
My mother swallowed.
“I know.”
“Yet you kept him as your attorney for twelve years?”
“He had records.”
“Of your theft?”
“Of everything.”
I suddenly understood.
My mother was guilty.
But perhaps not of every crime.
Martin stepped into the cabin.
“Touching reunion.”
Daniel emerged behind him with a gun held low.
Martin smiled.
“You really think I came alone?”
A second vehicle appeared at the end of the road.
Then another.
Martin looked at my mother.
“You should have let Friday happen quietly.”
My mother’s face drained of color.
Martin turned to me.
“Your mother has always suffered from one unfortunate flaw, Emma.”
“What?”
“She thinks money makes her powerful.”
He smiled.
“It only made her useful.”
Then he dropped a folder onto the table.
Inside was a document already prepared for filing.
PETITION FOR EMERGENCY GUARDIANSHIP OF EMMA CARLISLE.
The petitioner was not Nathan.
It was my mother.
And the attorney representing her was Martin Keene.
He looked at Eleanor.
“Sign it.”
She stared at him.
“No.”
Martin’s smile disappeared.
“Then I release the original accounts and let your daughter learn exactly how her grandfather died.”
My father turned sharply toward my mother.
I did too.
My grandfather had supposedly died of a heart attack.
May you like
My mother began trembling.
And that was when I realized the plane crash might not have been the first death in our family that needed another explanation.
