Chapter 6: What Happened the Night My Mother Died
I read the sentence again.
Then a third time.
If Madison discovers what happened on the night Lisa died, none of us will be safe.
My fingers went numb.
“What happened that night?””
My father didn't answer.
He stood beside the window, staring at the driveway.
David Morgan carefully gathered the documents.
“Robert, I think we should continue this conversation privately.””
“No,” I said.
Both men turned toward me.
“I want to know.””
My father looked at my bandaged eye.
“Madison, this is difficult.””
“My mother's name is on those papers. My life is on those papers. And somebody has been using her death to threaten me.””
I swallowed.
“I deserve to know.””
David nodded slowly.
“She does.””
My father returned to the sofa.
For several seconds, he rubbed his hands together.
Then he began.
“Your mother died after a car accident.””
“I know.””
“It happened on a rainy Thursday evening. She had gone to meet someone about the company records.””
I frowned.
“Who?””
“She didn't tell me. She said she would explain everything when she returned.””
I felt my stomach tighten.
“Was it Daniel?””
“I don't know.””
“Was it Rhonda?””
My father looked down.
“I don't know that either.””
David opened his folder.
“The police report records a single-vehicle collision on Route 16. The car left the road during heavy rain and struck a concrete barrier.””
I remembered fragments of that night.
A ringing telephone.
My father's voice.
A neighbor taking me into her kitchen.
The smell of coffee.
A blanket around my shoulders.
And my mother never coming home.
I pressed my fingers against my forehead.
“Why did Mom go out alone?””
My father looked at me.
“She told me she needed to retrieve some documents from her office.””
“Which office?””
“Her private office at the development company.””
David interrupted.
“That's important. The police report mentions a briefcase that was not recovered from the vehicle.””
I stared at him.
“What briefcase?””
“Your mother was carrying a dark leather briefcase when she left home. It was never listed among the recovered personal effects.””
My father slowly shook his head.
“She told me she was bringing it home.””
“Did you ever find it?””
“No.””
I felt a chill.
“What was inside?””
“Possibly the financial records she had been investigating.””
David nodded.
“We have reason to believe the missing briefcase contained original transaction documents.””
My father stood again.
“Why wasn't I told this before?””
“Because the original investigation treated the collision as an accident. The missing briefcase was not considered relevant at the time.””
I looked between them.
“Are you saying someone took it?””
“We're saying it was never recovered,” David replied carefully.
“That alone doesn't establish what happened.””
I swallowed.
“What about Rhonda?””
My father looked toward the staircase.
“She told me she hadn't seen your mother that evening.””
David placed a printed document on the table.
“However, one of the archived emails suggests otherwise.””
He read aloud.
I told Lisa I would handle the matter. She refused to listen. Daniel said the documents had to disappear before Robert found out.
My father gripped the edge of the table.
“Who wrote that?””
David turned the page.
“Rhonda.””
My stomach dropped.
My father stared at him.
“Are you certain?””
“It's from her verified email account. We will still need the original metadata for evidentiary purposes.””
I looked at Rhonda's photograph on the family mantel.
She had stood beside my mother at the funeral.
She had held my hand.
She had told me everything would be okay.
And all those years, she might have known something about the night my mother died.
I stood abruptly.
“I need to talk to her.””
My father reached for my arm.
“Madison, wait.””
“No. I want to hear it from her.””
I walked upstairs.
Rhonda's bedroom door was closed.
I knocked.
“Rhonda?””
No answer.
I knocked again.
“Open the door.””
Finally, she opened it a few inches.
Her face was blotchy.
“What?””
I held up my phone.
“Did you meet my mother on the night she died?””
Rhonda's expression changed.
“Who told you that?””
“So you did?””
She opened the door fully.
“Madison, you have no idea what you're getting into.””
“Then explain it.””
She glanced down the hallway.
“Not here.””
“Why?””
“Because your father doesn't need to hear everything.””
I stared at her.
“Why are you afraid of telling him?””
She grabbed my wrist.
“Listen to me. Your mother was involved in things you don't understand.””
I pulled my arm away.
“She was my mother.””
“And she made mistakes!””
“What mistakes?””
Rhonda looked toward the staircase again.
Then she lowered her voice.
“Daniel was supposed to help her.””
“With what?””
“The company.””
I waited.
She swallowed.
“Your mother discovered that some money had gone missing. She believed Daniel was responsible. He told me he could prove she was wrong.””
“Why were you involved?””
“Because I was seeing him.””
I stared at her.
“You were dating Daniel?””
Rhonda looked away.
“Before I met your father.””
“And you were still seeing him after?””
She didn't answer.
I felt sick.
“Were you meeting Mom because of him?””
Rhonda rubbed her forehead.
“Lisa wanted me to convince him to return the documents.””
“Which documents?””
“The original company records.””
I took a step closer.
“Did you meet her on the night she died?””
Rhonda closed her eyes.
Then she whispered, “Yes.””
My heart stopped.
“You told Dad you hadn't seen her.””
“I was protecting myself.””
“From what?””
“From everything.””
I stared at her.
“What happened?””
Rhonda began crying again.
“Your mother was furious. She accused me of helping Daniel. She said she was going to the police.””
“Did you threaten her?””
“No!””
“Did Daniel?””
She covered her mouth.
I felt the room spinning.
“Rhonda, did you see her leave that night?””
She nodded.
“Did you follow her?””
“No.””
“Did Daniel?””
She looked at me.
And that was when I realized she was afraid of something far worse than losing the house or the money.
She was afraid of Daniel.
Before she could answer, a loud voice came from the bottom of the staircase.
“Rhonda!””
My father.
She flinched.
He appeared at the top of the stairs, holding his phone.
“Get downstairs. Now.””
Rhonda wiped her face.
“What is it?””
He held up the screen.
“David has recovered another email.””
She slowly followed us downstairs.
David was standing beside the coffee table.
His laptop was open.
A message was displayed.
The sender was Daniel Whitmore.
The recipient was Peter Caldwell.
The date was the night my mother died.
My father read the subject line aloud.
*THE ACCIDENT — CONFIRMATION.*
I felt my knees weaken.
David opened the email.
There were only three sentences.
The vehicle has been located.
The briefcase is no longer inside.
Make sure Robert never learns what Lisa found.
My father stared at the screen.
Then he turned toward Rhonda.
“Did you know about this?””
Rhonda shook her head.
“No.””
“Did you know Daniel was involved in the accident?””
“No!””
David raised his hand.
“Robert, wait. There's an attachment.””
He clicked it.
A scanned photograph appeared.
It showed the front of my mother's car after the collision.
The windshield was shattered.
The passenger-side door was badly damaged.
And beside the vehicle stood a man wearing a dark coat.
My father leaned closer.
“Who is that?””
David enlarged the photograph.
The man's face became clearer.
I recognized him.
So did my father.
His expression collapsed.
“Peter Caldwell.””
I stared at the image.
“Mom's financial adviser?””
David nodded.
“But there's something else.””
He enlarged the lower-right corner.
A second person was visible behind the emergency responders.
A woman.
Her face was partially obscured by an umbrella.
But the diamond necklace around her neck was unmistakable.
Rhonda's necklace.
I turned toward my stepmother.
She began shaking her head.
“No. No, that's not what it looks like.””
My father looked at her.
“Were you there?””
She backed away.
“Robert, please.””
“Were you at the accident scene?””
“I didn't cause anything!””
Nobody had accused her of causing it.
But she had just answered a question nobody had asked.
My father moved toward her.
“What happened that night?””
Rhonda started crying.
“I went there because Daniel called me. He said Lisa had the documents. He told me to get them before the police arrived.””
My father froze.
“You went to the accident scene to retrieve the briefcase?””
Rhonda covered her face.
“I didn't know she would crash!””
I felt the floor disappear beneath me.
My mother had been in that car.
My mother had been alone.
And Rhonda had gone looking for her documents.
“Was Mom still alive when you arrived?”” I whispered.
Rhonda looked at me.
Her lips trembled.
“I don't know.””
“You don't know?””
“There were people everywhere. The ambulance had already arrived.””
“Did you see her?””
Rhonda started crying harder.
“I saw the car. I saw the briefcase.””
My father grabbed the back of a chair.
“Did you take it?””
Rhonda didn't answer.
David slowly closed the laptop.
“Mrs. Ellis, I strongly advise you not to answer further questions without legal representation.””
My father stared at her.
“You took my wife's belongings?””
Rhonda sank onto the sofa.
“I was scared.””
“Where is the briefcase?””
She shook her head.
“I gave it to Daniel.””
My father closed his eyes.
For a long moment, the only sound in the room was Rhonda crying.
Then David's phone rang.
He answered.
“David Morgan.””
He listened.
His expression changed.
“What do you mean you found it?””
My father looked up.
David turned toward us.
“The private investigator has located the missing briefcase.””
I stepped forward.
“Where?””
David looked at the caller's information.
“Inside a storage unit registered to Peter Caldwell.””
My father immediately reached for his coat.
“Let's go.””
But David held up his hand.
“There's a complication.””
“What?””
“The storage unit was accessed this morning.””
My stomach tightened.
“By whom?””
David looked at his phone.
“The facility manager has identified the person who entered.””
He turned the screen toward my father.
A security photograph appeared.
The person was standing beside the storage unit, holding a large envelope.
I recognized the purple handbag.
It belonged to Brianna.
My father stared at the image.
“Why was Brianna there?””
Before anyone could answer, my phone rang.
It was Brianna.
I answered.
“Where are you?””
Her voice was trembling.
“Madison, you need to listen to me.””
“What did you do?””
“Mom told me to get something from a storage unit. I didn't know what it was.””
“Did you take the briefcase?””
“No. I swear. But someone was already there.””
“Who?””
I heard a door slam on her end.
Then she whispered:
“Peter Caldwell.””
I looked at David.
He was already reaching for his coat.
Brianna continued.
“He told me Mom had lied to us. He said the briefcase wasn't the only thing Lisa left behind.””
I gripped the phone.
“What else?””
There was a long silence.
Then Brianna spoke in a voice barely above a whisper.
“He said your mother recorded a conversation before she died.””
My heart pounded.
“Where is it?””
“I don't know.””
“Brianna, where are you?””
She started crying.
“Madison, he's coming back.””
“Who?””
“Peter.””
Then I heard a man's voice in the background.
“Give me the phone, Brianna.””
The call ended.
I stared at my screen.
My father immediately called the police.
David began gathering the documents.
And somewhere in the middle of the chaos, I noticed something on the photograph of the storage unit.
A small white label attached to the briefcase.
It contained three handwritten words.
For Madison. Open.
My mother's handwriting.
May you like
And beneath it, a date.
The date was the day before she died.
