Chapter 6: Room 417
My mother did not wait for me to ask another question.
She grabbed my wrist with surprising strength and pulled me toward the reception hall.
“Get in the car.””
I resisted.
“Mom, what happened in that room?””
She looked over her shoulder.
“Not here.””
My father moved beside us.
“She’s right.””
I stared at him.
“For once, somebody tell me the truth before I have to discover it myself.””
His eyes lowered.
“You don't have the whole truth yet.””
“That isn't an answer.””
“No,” he said quietly.
“It isn't.””
Behind us, Nia was still standing beneath the torn wedding arch.
Her veil had slipped from her hair.
One white rose was caught in it.
She looked at me with red-rimmed eyes.
“Marcus.””
I turned.
She took one step forward.
“I never wanted you to get hurt.””
“You brought a gunman to my wedding.””
“I didn't.””
“You knew someone was watching us.””
“Yes.””
“You knew about the money.””
“Yes.””
“You knew about my father.””
“Yes.””
“And you knew there was another woman pretending to be my mother.””
Her face crumpled.
“Yes.””
The word hung between us.
I felt something inside me go completely still.
“Then tell me her name.””
Nia looked at my mother.
“I don't know her real name.””
Mom answered.
“Her name was Evelyn Hale.””
I stared.
“That's your name.””
“Yes.””
“Then who was she?””
Mom's lips trembled.
“My sister.””
I forgot how to breathe.
My father closed his eyes.
Nia whispered, “Evelyn was your mother's twin.””
For several seconds, nobody spoke.
Twin.
The word was too simple for what it meant.
All those years.
Every photograph.
Every Christmas.
Every story my mother had told me about her childhood.
There had never been another sister.
At least, not one I'd ever heard about.
I looked at Mom.
“Why didn't you ever tell me?””
She stared at the floor.
“Because she died when we were young.””
Nia shook her head.
“No.””
Mom looked at her.
“She didn't die then.””
My mother's face changed.
I had never seen her look so afraid.
Nia continued.
“You thought she was dead.””
“Where did you find this?”” Mom asked.
“At the motel.””
“Who told you?””
“No one.””
Nia took a shaky breath.
“I followed Caleb.””
My brother's head snapped up.
“You weren't supposed to.””
“I had no choice.””
“You had a choice.””
“You lied to me.””
“I lied because you wouldn't stop digging.””
I looked at Caleb.
“You knew?””
“Yes.””
“How long?””
“Since January.””
I stared at him.
“And you didn't tell me?””
“I was trying to keep you out of it.””
“You keep saying that.””
“I know.””
“Stop.””
The police were still outside speaking with the gunman.
Sirens flashed against the trees.
Guests clustered in frightened groups, whispering behind their hands.
The wedding was gone.
Whatever life I had expected to begin that morning had already disappeared.
I looked at Nia.
“Take me to Room 417.””
She shook her head.
“No.””
“Why?””
“Because it's a crime scene.””
“The police haven't gone.””
“They don't know what else is there.””
“Then tell them.””
She swallowed.
“You don't understand what I saw.””
“Then make me understand.””
She hesitated.
Finally, she stepped closer.
“I went there because Caleb told me someone had been using your mother's name.””
“My mother?””
“Yes.””
“Why would anyone do that?””
“To access the Bellweather records.””
I looked at my father.
He nodded slowly.
“Your aunt knew about them.””
“My aunt?””
He corrected himself.
“Evelyn knew more than either of us.””
Mom glared at him.
“You promised me you would never tell him.””
“I also promised I'd protect him.””
“You think this protects him?””
“No.””
My father looked directly at me.
“I think the lies don't anymore.””
I pointed toward the parking lot.
“Then we're going.””
Mom shook her head.
“Marcus, please.””
“I am done being protected.””
My voice echoed across the reception hall.
“I am done being the only person who doesn't know what's happening to my own life.””
No one argued.
We left the venue together.
The drive to the motel was silent.
Daniel followed in another car with Caleb.
Nia sat beside me.
My mother sat in the back with my father.
For the first ten minutes, I could hear nothing except the tires against the highway.
Then Nia said softly, “I should have told you before today.””
I kept my eyes on the road.
“You should have told me before the engagement.””
“I know.””
“Before the proposal.””
“Yes.””
“Before you moved into my house.””
Her voice broke.
“Yes.””
“Did you ever love me?””
Silence.
Then she answered.
“Yes.””
That hurt more than a lie would have.
“Then why did you do it?””
“I thought loving you meant fixing everything before you got destroyed by it.””
“You don't get to decide what destroys me.””
“I know.””
“You tried to control every piece of information.””
“I was terrified.””
“Of whom?””
She looked out the window.
“Everyone.””
When we reached the motel, police vehicles were already there.
Room 417 was on the second floor.
A uniformed officer stopped us at the stairwell.
“Family?””
“My mother owns the property,” I said.
He frowned.
“She owns a motel?””
“No.””
My father spoke.
“We have information concerning the victim.””
The officer looked at him.
“The room is secured.””
“Did you identify the woman?””
The officer's expression tightened.
“We haven't confirmed her identity yet.””
Nia whispered, “She's Evelyn.””
The officer looked at her.
“How do you know?””
“I saw her.””
“You were inside the room?””
“Yes.””
“Before she was found?””
“Yes.””
“You should have told us that immediately.””
“I was trying to get someone out of danger.””
“Who?””
Nia looked at me.
“Marcus.””
The officer glanced between us.
Then another officer approached.
“We found something.””
He held up a clear evidence bag.
Inside was a hotel key.
Another key.
Room 417.
But this one was attached to a small brass tag engraved with two letters.
*E.H.*
My mother stared at it.
Her face had gone completely white.
“That was hers.””
The officer looked at her.
“You recognize it?””
Mom nodded.
“I gave it to my sister.””
I turned.
“When?””
She looked away.
“Twenty-eight years ago.””
“Why would she still have it?””
Mom didn't answer.
The second officer stepped closer.
“There's more.””
He held up another evidence bag.
Inside was a photograph.
I could see only the back.
Then he turned it over.
The photo showed two identical girls standing beside a lake.
They were young.
Maybe eighteen.
One wore a white dress.
The other wore blue.
On the back, someone had written:
*Evelyn and Evelyn — Before Bellweather.*
My father looked at the photograph and whispered, “I thought that was gone.””
I stared at him.
“Why?””
He didn't answer.
“Dad.””
He looked at me.
“The first time I met your mother, I thought she was someone else.””
My heart sank.
“You thought she was your sister.””
“No.””
He looked toward Mom.
“I thought she was Evelyn.””
Mom's eyes filled with tears.
“I didn't tell him.””
“Why?””
“Because by then it was too late.””
“What was too late?””
She swallowed.
“He had already fallen in love with the wrong sister.””
The hallway seemed to narrow.
My father looked at her.
“I loved the woman I thought was Evelyn.””
Mom closed her eyes.
“I wasn't Evelyn.””
“You let me believe you were.””
“I was afraid.””
“Afraid of what?””
She opened her eyes.
“Of what my sister had done.””
I looked at Nia.
She was staring at the photograph.
“You knew all of this?””
“Not all of it.””
“Then what did you know?””
She pointed toward the door of Room 417.
“I knew your aunt had been alive.””
My father stepped closer.
“Where is the body?””
The officer shook his head.
“There is a problem.””
“What problem?””
“The body is gone.””
Nobody moved.
I felt cold spread through me.
“What?””
The officer lowered his voice.
“When officers arrived, the room was empty.””
Nia shook her head violently.
“That can't be.””
“I saw her.””
“You said she was dead.””
“She was.””
“Then where is she?””
Nia backed against the wall.
“I don't know.””
The officer continued.
“There were signs of a struggle. Blood on the carpet. Broken glass. But no body.””
My father looked at me.
“Then she wasn't killed here.””
I remembered the video.
The woman tied to the chair.
My mother's voice.
Trust no one.
I looked at Mom.
“Who was in that video?””
She didn't answer.
I pulled out my phone.
“Watch it.””
I played the recording.
Mom watched her own face on the screen.
Her hands began trembling.
When the video ended, she whispered something.
“What?””
“I know that room.””
“Which room?””
“The one behind her.””
I looked at her.
“Where?””
She closed her eyes.
“My sister's house.””
I felt my heart pound.
“Where is it?””
Mom's voice dropped to almost nothing.
“The house was demolished twelve years ago.””
My father corrected her.
“No.””
She looked at him.
“It still exists.””
Mom stared.
“Graham…”
He turned toward me.
“I've been there.””
“When?””
“Yesterday.””
My blood ran cold.
“You knew where she was.””
He nodded.
“I suspected.””
“Why didn't you tell me?””
“Because I wasn't sure.””
“Are you sure now?””
My father looked at the photograph.
Then at the phone in my hand.
Then toward Room 417.
“Yes.””
He reached into his pocket and removed a folded piece of paper.
An address.
I recognized the street.
It was less than twenty minutes from my house.
My voice came out barely above a whisper.
“Why would she be there?””
My father looked at me.
“Because that's where Bellweather began.””
Before I could respond, Nia's phone buzzed.
She stared at the screen.
A new message had arrived.
*YOU'RE LOOKING IN THE WRONG HOUSE.*
Then another.
*COME ALONE, MARCUS.*
And beneath it was a photograph.
It showed my own living room.
Taken from inside my house.
May you like
Someone was standing behind my sofa.
Holding a knife.
