Chapter 11 - The Mother Who Never Left
Abigail’s mother had supposedly died when Abigail was twelve.
Her name was Caroline Hart.
Official cause: ovarian cancer.
There had been a funeral.
A grave.
A marble headstone.
Abigail had visited it every Mother’s Day for twenty years.
Evelyn Cross told her the grave was empty.
“You’re lying.”
They were inside a safe house near Chesapeake Bay.
Rain struck the windows.
Grant slept in the next room under Monroe’s watch.
Tessa sat across from Evelyn at a kitchen table.
Abigail remained standing.
“You are lying.”
Evelyn did not blink.
“Your mother never had cancer.”
“I watched her lose her hair.”
“Medication.”
“I watched her become weak.”
“Medication.”
“I was at the hospital when she died.”
“You were sedated before they removed her.”
Abigail grabbed the back of a chair.
“No.”
Evelyn pushed a folder across the table.
Inside were hospital files.
Caroline Hart’s name appeared on every page.
But none of the records described cancer.
They described prolonged administration of antipsychotics, sedatives and experimental neurological drugs.
Tessa looked at Evelyn.
“Why?”
“Because Caroline found the trial deaths before Maya did.”
Abigail sank into the chair.
“My mother knew?”
“She confronted Eleanor and Caleb.”
“What happened?”
“They declared her unstable.”
Tessa felt sick.
“They drugged her.”
“For nearly a year.”
“And Samuel allowed it?”
Evelyn’s expression hardened.
“Samuel spent his entire life allowing things until it was almost too late.”
Abigail flinched.
The truth was becoming crueler with every door they opened.
“Where is my mother?”
Evelyn looked toward the rain.
“I don’t know.”
Abigail stared at her.
“You just told me she’s alive.”
“I said she didn’t die when you were twelve.”
“That was twenty years ago.”
“Yes.”
“Then where did she go?”
“Caleb moved her between private facilities under different names. Maya found one of them.”
Tessa’s heart sped up.
“Before the crash?”
“Yes.”
“Did Maya see Caroline?”
Evelyn nodded.
“She did more than see her.”
“What?”
“She got her out.”
Abigail stood.
“What?”
“For forty-eight hours.”
“Where?”
“A motel outside Annapolis.”
Tessa remembered the photograph.
Maya standing beside Evelyn outside a motel.
There had been someone else barely visible behind the curtain.
“Caroline was there.”
“Yes.”
“What happened to her?”
“Caleb found them.”
Evelyn paused.
“Maya ran with the evidence. I took Caroline in another vehicle.”
“You were helping them?”
“I was a paramedic. Maya contacted me because she discovered who I was.”
“Samuel’s daughter,” Tessa said.
Evelyn nodded.
“She wanted to reunite you with him?”
“No.”
Her expression became cold.
“She wanted me to testify against him.”
Abigail looked stunned.
“Against my father?”
“He had signed too many documents. Approved too many transfers. He wasn’t innocent.”
Tessa asked, “What happened to Caroline?”
Evelyn looked down.
“I lost her.”
“How?”
“A car forced us off the road. I woke up in a ditch.”
“And Caroline?”
“Gone.”
Abigail whispered, “So she could still be alive.”
“Yes.”
“Or she could be dead.”
“Yes.”
The hope in Abigail’s face became almost painful to watch.
Monroe entered.
“We have another problem.”
Nobody laughed.
“Of course we do,” Tessa said.
He placed his laptop on the table.
Hart Biotech’s stock had fallen fourteen percent since the arrests began.
Caleb Mercer had called an emergency press conference.
They watched live.
Caleb stood behind a podium in a navy suit.
Silver hair.
Steady eyes.
The face of a man who had spent thirty years being trusted.
“The recent allegations against Hart Biotech are deeply troubling,” he said.
Abigail whispered, “He looks exactly the same.”
Caleb continued.
“We are cooperating fully with authorities. However, evidence now suggests that a former domestic employee named Tessa Quinn may have manipulated members of the Hart family in an attempt to extort money.”
Tessa stared at the screen.
Monroe cursed.
Caleb displayed a photograph.
It showed Tessa entering Harbor Federal Bank.
Another showed her meeting Evelyn outside the safe house.
A third showed Grant being helped into the SUV after the church shooting.
Caleb looked directly into the cameras.
“We believe Ms. Quinn is working with known fraudster Evelyn Cross and fugitive Grant Holloway.”
Abigail stood.
“He’s turning this on Tessa.”
Evelyn did not look surprised.
“He did the same thing to Maya.”
Caleb continued.
“Most disturbing are questions surrounding the recent attacks on Abigail Hart. Evidence suggests those incidents may have been staged.”
Tessa laughed in disbelief.
“They’re going to say I staged getting stabbed?”
“They don’t need everyone to believe it,” Evelyn said.
“Just enough people.”
Monroe’s phone began ringing.
Then another.
Then another.
News alerts flooded the screen.
TESSA QUINN INVESTIGATED.
MAID OR MASTERMIND?
THE HART HEIRESS HOAX.
Within thirty minutes, Tessa’s face appeared on every network.
By sunset, protesters gathered outside Hart Biotech.
Half demanded Caleb resign.
Half demanded Tessa’s arrest.
Then the final blow came.
Monroe received a message from his captain.
He read it silently.
“What?” Tessa asked.
“I’ve been ordered to bring you in.”
Abigail stood between them.
“No.”
“Tessa isn’t under arrest.”
“Then why bring her in?”
“Questioning.”
Evelyn laughed.
“Once she enters that building, Caleb owns the story.”
Monroe looked at her.
“He doesn’t own my department.”
“Are you sure?”
Monroe’s silence answered.
Tessa stood.
“I’m going.”
Abigail stared at her.
“No.”
“If I run, he wins.”
“If you go, they can frame you.”
“Then we make sure I don’t go alone.”
The next morning, Tessa walked into Baltimore Police Headquarters surrounded by reporters.
Questions exploded from every direction.
“Did you attack Abigail Hart?”
“Are you working with Grant Holloway?”
“Did you fabricate evidence?”
“Did you steal money from the Hart family?”
Tessa stopped on the steps.
Monroe whispered, “Keep moving.”
She did not.
She turned toward the cameras.
“My sister died eleven years ago because powerful people believed a woman without money could be erased.”
The reporters went silent.
Tessa continued.
“They were wrong.”
Then someone screamed.
A woman pushed through the crowd.
Thin.
Gray-haired.
Wearing a hospital bracelet.
Security tried to stop her.
“Abigail!”
Abigail froze.
The woman began sobbing.
“Abby!”
Abigail stared at her face.
At a tiny crescent-shaped scar above her eyebrow.
A scar she remembered touching when she was five.
Her knees buckled.
“Mom?”
May you like
Caroline Hart reached her daughter.
And collapsed into her arms.
