Chapter 6 - The Woman Behind the Door
We separated before sunrise.
Daniel took one route.
Melissa and Owen took another.
Sophie and I stayed together.
I didn't trust the plan.
I didn't trust the people chasing us.
And after what I had learned, I wasn't sure I trusted my own family.
We spent the morning in a small motel outside town.
The room smelled like bleach.
The heater rattled.
Snow pressed against the window.
Sophie sat on the bed drawing.
I sat across from her with John's metal box open between us.
Documents covered the table.
Bank transfers.
Property deeds.
Company registrations.
Copies of signatures.
Photographs.
Every page seemed to reveal another lie.
Then I found a name.
Bennett Family Trust.
I stared at it.
Under the trust was my father's signature.
Below it was mine.
I was confused.
“I never signed this.”
Sophie looked up.
“You were little.”
I checked the date.
I was fourteen.
There was no way I had signed legal documents.
Then I noticed the second page.
A notarized statement.
My mother's signature appeared beside mine.
My signature had been forged.
My stomach twisted.
She had stolen my identity before I was even old enough to understand what that meant.
I turned another page.
The trust owned several properties.
One was worth millions.
Another was an apartment building.
Another was a commercial warehouse.
All of them had been transferred into companies controlled by Redwood Holdings.
My father's money had been systematically moved.
Not stolen all at once.
Drained.
Piece by piece.
Over years.
I kept reading.
Then I found something that made my hands go numb.
A payment.
$250,000.
Recipient:
M. Bennett
Melissa.
I stared at the page.
“No.”
I checked again.
The account number matched.
My sister had received a quarter of a million dollars.
I called her.
She answered on the third ring.
“Where are you?”
“I don't know.”
“Are you safe?”
“Yes.”
I hesitated.
“Melissa.”
“What?”
“Why did Redwood Holdings pay you $250,000?”
Silence.
Then she whispered,
“They didn't.”
“The document says they did.”
“I never saw that money.”
“Then where did it go?”
She started crying.
“Mom.”
I closed my eyes.
Of course.
My mother.
“Why?”
“She said it was for Owen.”
“What did she do with it?”
“I don't know.”
“You're lying.”
“No!”
Melissa's voice cracked.
“I swear to you.”
I heard Owen in the background.
“Auntie?”
Melissa immediately lowered her voice.
“Please don't ask me this over the phone.”
“Then tell me where you are.”
She hesitated.
“There's a church near Route 17.”
“I'll come.”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because someone is watching me.”
The call ended.
I stared at the phone.
Sophie was watching me.
“What happened?”
“I think your aunt is in danger.”
Sophie closed her sketchbook.
“Then we need to find her.”
We left the motel.
An hour later, we reached the church.
The parking lot was empty.
I entered through the side door.
“Melissa?”
No answer.
I walked deeper.
Then I heard crying.
I followed the sound.
Melissa was sitting in the last pew.
Owen was beside her.
She looked exhausted.
I sat across the aisle.
“Tell me.”
She wiped her face.
“I never wanted any of this.”
“I believe you.”
She looked surprised.
“I do.”
I put the bank statement on the pew.
“But I need the truth.”
She stared at it.
Then nodded.
“When Dad disappeared, Mom told me he had stolen money.”
“I know.”
“She said he was going to leave us with nothing.”
“And you believed her?”
“I was seventeen.”
She looked down.
“She made me choose.”
“Choose what?”
“Her or you.”
I stared at her.
“She said you were becoming like Dad.”
“What does that mean?”
“She said you would expose everything.”
“Maybe she was right.”
Melissa gave a sad laugh.
“Dad had already warned me.”
“About what?”
“He told me Mom had become obsessed with money.”
I waited.
“He said she was being blackmailed.”
“By Victor?”
Melissa nodded.
“Victor had proof of something.”
“What?”
“I don't know.”
“Melissa.”
“I swear.”
She reached into her purse.
Pulled out an old envelope.
“This is why I came.”
I took it.
Inside was a photograph.
My father standing beside a woman.
I didn't recognize her.
She looked familiar.
But I couldn't place her.
On the back was a date.
August 2013.
And one sentence.
She knows what happened to Sarah.
I looked at Melissa.
“Who is Sarah?”
She shook her head.
“I don't know.”
“Then why keep this?”
“Dad gave it to me.”
“When?”
“The night before he disappeared.”
I stared at the photograph.
Something about the woman's face bothered me.
Then Sophie came closer.
She looked at the picture.
Her eyes widened.
“Mom.”
“What?”
“I know her.”
My heart stopped.
“How?”
“She was at Grandma's house.”
“When?”
“Last year.”
I stared at her.
“You're sure?”
Sophie nodded.
“She gave Grandma a folder.”
Melissa went pale.
“What folder?”
Sophie pointed to the woman.
“This woman.”
My pulse raced.
“Did you hear her name?”
Sophie thought.
Then whispered,
“Sarah.”
Melissa covered her mouth.
“No.”
I looked at her.
“What?”
She shook her head.
“That can't be.”
“Why?”
“Because Sarah is dead.”
I stared at the photograph.
The woman in it.
The woman Sophie had seen.
The woman named in my father's final clue.
Alive.
Unless—
A sound came from the church entrance.
Footsteps.
Melissa grabbed Owen.
I stood.
The doors creaked.
A woman walked inside.
Gray coat.
Dark hair.
Calm expression.
She looked directly at me.
Then at Sophie.
Then at the photograph.
She smiled.
“John's daughter.”
I stepped backward.
“Who are you?”
The woman removed her gloves.
“My name is Sarah.”
Melissa began crying.
“No.”
Sarah looked at her.
“You remember me.”
I couldn't speak.
Sarah walked toward us.
“I've waited twelve years to meet you.”
“Why?”
“Because your father trusted me.”
She looked at the photograph.
“And because your mother tried to kill me.”
My blood ran cold.
Sarah reached into her coat.
She pulled out a small key.
“Your father left something with me.”
I stared at it.
“What?”
“The original evidence.”
“What evidence?”
Sarah looked toward the church doors.
“We don't have time.”
She placed the key in my hand.
Then whispered,
“Your father didn't die when your mother said he did.”
I stopped breathing.
“What are you saying?”
Sarah's eyes filled with tears.
“John Bennett was alive for six months after his disappearance.”
Melissa whispered,
“Where?”
Sarah looked at me.
“He was hiding.”
“From Victor?”
“No.”
“Then from who?”
May you like
Sarah answered softly.
“From your mother.”
