Chapter 6 - The Night Mara Disappeared
Four years earlier, Mara had not checked herself into Briar Hill.
She had been taken there unconscious.
That was the first truth.
The second was worse.
“I remember dinner,” Mara told me.
We were sitting in my mother’s kitchen.
The sun was up now.
Nobody had slept.
“You were in Chicago.”
I nodded.
“A development meeting.”
“Vivi came over.”
I looked toward Cecilia.
My mother stared at the table.
Mara continued.
“She brought wine.”
“I had one glass.”
“Then?”
“I woke up in a car.”
My jaw tightened.
“Whose car?”
“I don’t know.”
“I tried to open the door.”
Her fingers tightened around a coffee mug.
“My arms felt heavy.”
“The next thing I remember was Briar Hill.”
Cecilia whispered, “I didn’t know that part.”
Mara turned toward her.
“You never asked.”
Cecilia looked down.
I felt anger spreading through me in a way I had never experienced.
Cold.
Precise.
“What happened after you woke up?”
“They said I had suffered a psychiatric episode.”
Mara gave a bitter smile.
“They said I’d tried to hurt Noah.”
I stood so quickly my chair scraped across the floor.
“What?”
“They showed me a report.”
Her eyes met mine.
“It said I had shaken him.”
“No.”
“I know.”
“Noah was with me that weekend.”
Mara nodded.
“I remembered.”
My brain raced backward.
Chicago.
The hotel.
Noah asleep in a portable crib beside my bed because Mara’s father had just died and I wanted to give her two quiet days alone.
I had photographs.
Receipts.
Hotel security footage might still exist.
The accusation was impossible.
“Who signed the report?”
Mara answered.
“Dr. Franklin Shaw.”
Cecilia flinched.
I saw it.
“You know him.”
She looked at me reluctantly.
“He used to sit on the foundation’s medical board.”
“Used to?”
“He resigned.”
“When?”
“Two months after Mara was admitted.”
Mara leaned forward.
“Where is he now?”
Cecilia shook her head.
“I don’t know.”
My phone buzzed.
Benjamin.
I answered.
“Tell me you found something.”
“I found Dr. Shaw.”
“Where?”
There was a pause.
“He died eight months ago.”
Mara closed her eyes.
Another dead witness.
Another door closing.
Then Benjamin continued.
“But his widow contacted my office last year.”
I frowned.
“Why?”
“She said her husband left a locked box marked with your name.”
My pulse jumped.
“You never told me?”
“I did.”
“When?”
“Your assistant responded.”
I looked toward Mara.
“What assistant?”
Benjamin’s answer made both of us freeze.
May you like
“Vivienne.”
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