Chapter 5 - THE MAN IN THE HALLWAY
Margaret moved first.
“Get out.”
Charles smiled.
“You haven't changed.”
“Get out!”
Richard stepped between them.
“How did you get here?”
Charles adjusted his jacket.
“I was invited.”
“By whom?”
He looked at me.
“Her.”
Every face turned toward me.
I shook my head.
“I've never seen you before.”
Charles smiled.
“Not directly.”
Then I understood.
“The anonymous email.”
He nodded.
Jason stepped toward him.
“You sent those documents?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Charles looked at Margaret.
“Because your mother stopped paying me.”
The room went silent.
Margaret's voice became deadly.
“You should've stayed gone.”
“I tried.”
Charles shrugged.
“Fourteen million dollars buys a lot of silence.”
Richard looked sick.
“You said you destroyed everything.”
“I lied.”
Jason grabbed the back of a chair.
“What do you know about Daniel?”
Charles studied him.
“You really don't remember.”
“I remember a cousin.”
“You remember what they trained you to remember.”
Margaret slapped him.
Hard.
Charles barely moved.
Jason stepped forward.
“Mom!”
Charles touched his cheek.
“There she is.”
Margaret's breathing became ragged.
“You ruined everything.”
“No.”
Charles looked at the burned dress.
“You did that all by yourself.”
I stepped between them.
“Why send the documents to me?”
Charles turned toward me.
“Because you were the only person entering this family who wasn't already afraid of Margaret.”
That answer chilled me.
“You don't know me.”
“I researched you.”
Jason's expression hardened.
“You researched my fiancée?”
“I needed leverage.”
I hated the word.
“I'm not leverage.”
“No.”
Charles studied me.
“That's what surprised me.”
He reached into his jacket.
Richard immediately moved forward.
Charles raised one hand.
“Relax.”
He pulled out a small envelope.
“Copies.”
He handed it to Jason.
Inside were bank statements.
Letters.
Photographs.
And one old newspaper clipping.
Jason unfolded it.
His face changed.
I moved beside him.
The headline read:
LOCAL TEEN KILLED IN LATE-NIGHT CRASH.
The photograph beneath it showed Daniel.
Seventeen.
Dark hair.
Jason's eyes.
Jason whispered,
“I remember him.”
Margaret turned away.
“I remember his room.”
Richard covered his mouth.
Jason continued.
“He had a red guitar.”
His father nodded.
“Yes.”
“He taught me how to ride a bike.”
“Yes.”
Jason's voice broke.
“Why did you tell me he was my cousin?”
Margaret answered.
“Because you wouldn't stop asking questions.”
Jason looked at her.
“I was seven.”
“You were traumatized.”
“By what?”
Margaret said nothing.
Charles did.
“By what you saw.”
Jason froze.
Richard stepped toward Charles.
“Don't.”
Charles ignored him.
Jason whispered,
“What did I see?”
Charles looked directly at him.
“The night Daniel died, you were in the car.”
The room disappeared around Jason.
He sat down hard.
“No.”
Margaret began crying.
Not elegant tears.
Not controlled emotion.
Real panic.
“Jason, don't listen to him.”
Charles continued.
“You weren't supposed to be there.”
“Shut up!”
“You climbed into the back seat because Daniel promised to take you for ice cream.”
“Shut up!”
“You saw who followed him.”
Margaret lunged toward Charles.
Richard caught her.
Jason stood.
His face was completely empty.
“Who followed us?”
Charles stared at Margaret.
May you like
Then he said,
“Your mother.”
