CHAPTER 6 THE WOMAN WHO CALLED HERSELF MY MOTHER
Brenda refused to speak.
Her lawyer insisted Daniel’s video was fabricated. He claimed the photograph had been altered and demanded independent forensic review.
Detective Brooks expected the strategy.
“What matters is what’s in the safety-deposit box,” she said.
The court order arrived two days later.
The bank required police, an estate representative, and Wyatt to be present. I went as a potential beneficiary and victim connected to the investigation.
The box contained three sealed envelopes, corporate ledgers, a microcassette recorder, and a small silver necklace.
The necklace held a crescent-moon pendant.
On the back were the initials E.B.
My mother’s.
Not Brenda.
Evelyn.
The first envelope contained original hospital records proving Evelyn Bell had given birth to me.
The second contained financial records showing Gregory and Charles Whitmore had diverted millions through shell companies.
The third was marked FOR THOMAS OR SADIE.
Inside was a map of rural properties owned by Bell Heritage.
One location had been circled in red.
An abandoned rehabilitation center outside Chillicothe.
Beneath it Daniel had written:
Whitmore moved T.R. here after the courthouse attack. Brenda visited every month. I cannot confirm whether he remains alive.
Police raided the property that evening.
They found an empty building, medical restraints, expired medication, and bloodstains dating back many years.
No Thomas.
In a basement office, officers discovered a wall covered with surveillance photographs.
Arthur.
Daniel.
Evelyn.
Me.
Pictures followed my entire childhood.
School.
College.
My first apartment.
My first date with Wyatt.
Someone had watched me for decades.
A photograph taken only three weeks earlier showed me asleep through my bedroom window.
Wyatt stared at it until his hands curled into fists.
“They were close enough to touch her.”
Detective Brooks placed the image into evidence.
“We also found recent food containers and bedding. Someone used this building within the past month.”
“Melanie?” I asked.
“Possibly.”
“Or Thomas,” Wyatt said.
I wanted to believe it.
Detective Brooks opened another evidence bag.
Inside was a handwritten list of dates.
Each date matched a time Brenda had supposedly attended a church retreat or visited a sick friend.
For twenty-eight years, she had traveled to the rehabilitation center.
Why?
To guard Thomas?
To torment him?
To make certain he stayed silent?
I requested permission to speak with Brenda.
Her lawyer refused.
Then Brenda requested to speak with me.
Alone.
The meeting took place in a secured interview room at the county jail. A camera recorded everything. Detective Brooks watched from behind mirrored glass.
Brenda entered wearing an orange uniform.
Without makeup and expensive clothing, she looked smaller.
But not weaker.
Her eyes remained sharp.
She stared at my scars.
“Wyatt still looking at you?” she asked.
I would not give her the reaction she wanted.
“Yes.”
“For now.”
I sat across from her.
“Where is Thomas Reed?”
She smiled.
“Straight to business.”
“You asked to see me.”
“I wanted to know whether you found Evelyn’s necklace.”
My hand moved instinctively toward the pendant beneath my blouse.
Brenda noticed.
“She always wore it,” she said. “Father gave it to her on her sixteenth birthday. I received a sweater.”
“Is that why you hated her?”
“That was one reason.”
“You killed her.”
“I did not inject the medication.”
“Gregory did?”
She leaned back.
“You think you understand because you found a few letters. You don’t.”
“Then explain.”
“Evelyn took everything.”
“She was your sister.”
“She was Father’s favorite. The beautiful one. The clever one. The one teachers praised and boys followed. When our mother died, Evelyn became the center of the house. I became the help.”
“That doesn’t justify murder.”
“I said Gregory changed the medication. I did not say I asked him to.”
“But you helped.”
Brenda looked at the camera.
“You should ask your grandfather what he did before judging me.”
“He admitted he abandoned me.”
“That is not the worst of it.”
“What did he do?”
“He knew Gregory was using Bell properties for financial crimes. Arthur signed some of the early transfers because the profits benefited the company.”
“Arthur participated?”
“At first. When the federal investigation began, he decided to become a respectable man again. He chose Evelyn as his innocent heir and planned to leave me with the blame.”
“Did Evelyn know?”
“She discovered everything.”
“And planned to expose you.”
“She planned to hand the records to Thomas.”
“Where is he?”
Brenda’s smile disappeared.
“Still asking the wrong question.”
“What is the right one?”
“Why did Thomas never come for you?”
“Arthur said Thomas believed I died.”
“Arthur lies when the truth makes him look weak.”
“Then tell me the truth.”
Brenda lowered her voice.
“Thomas knew you lived.”
My chest tightened.
“No.”
“He knew exactly where you were.”
“Why would he leave me?”
“Because Thomas Reed chose his investigation over his daughter.”
“You kept him imprisoned.”
“Not at first.”
I searched her expression.
“What does that mean?”
“Thomas entered witness protection. Years later, he returned secretly. He met Daniel. He watched you from a distance.”
The stranger at school may not have been Daniel.
It may have been Thomas.
“He wanted to take you,” Brenda continued. “But Gregory offered him a choice. Disappear permanently, or watch the financial evidence become evidence against Arthur and Daniel.”
“That makes no sense.”
“It made sense to Thomas. He believed protecting the case would eventually protect you.”
“Then why was he at the rehabilitation center?”
“Because he came back again after Daniel died.”
“What happened?”
“Gregory was waiting.”
My nails pressed into my palms.
“Is Thomas alive?”
Brenda studied me for a long moment.
“He was alive the last time I saw him.”
“When?”
“Six weeks ago.”
“Where is he now?”
“I’ll tell you after you help me.”
“With what?”
“Convince the prosecutor I was coerced.”
“You laughed while Gregory broke my face.”
“I panicked.”
“You stopped Wyatt from calling for help.”
“I was afraid of Gregory.”
“You kept Arthur locked in your basement.”
“Melanie arranged that.”
“You visited Thomas for twenty-eight years.”
Her mask slipped.
“I kept him alive.”
The anger in her voice startled me.
“Gregory wanted him dead. I persuaded him Thomas might still know where evidence was hidden. Every time Gregory wanted to finish it, I stopped him.”
“Why?”
Brenda looked toward the mirrored glass, then back at me.
“Because Thomas was the only man who ever chose me first.”
I felt disgust rise in my throat.
“You were in love with my mother’s boyfriend?”
“He came to me before Evelyn.”
“Did he love you?”
“He could have.”
“But he chose her.”
Brenda’s face twisted.
“Everyone chose her.”
“And you punished me for it.”
“You had her eyes.”
Her answer came instantly.
“Every time you looked at me, I saw her winning again.”
I stood.
“Tell me where Thomas is.”
“Get me a deal.”
“I won’t.”
“Then you may never find him.”
I turned toward the door.
Brenda spoke again.
“Melanie knows.”
I stopped.
“She moved him after Arthur escaped.”
“Where?”
“Melanie won’t tell me. She thinks I’m weak.”
“You made her this way.”
“No, Sadie. You did.”
I faced her.
“How?”
“Every birthday, every family dinner, every holiday, Melanie knew that half of everything would someday go to you. She grew up watching us protect an inheritance for a girl we despised.”
“You weren’t protecting it. You were trying to steal it.”
“To Melanie, that made no difference.”
The guard opened the door.
Brenda smiled one last time.
“Your sister does not want money anymore. She wants you to know what it feels like to lose everyone.”
Outside, Detective Brooks told me prosecutors would not make a deal without verifiable information.
I agreed.
Brenda had spent my life using fear as currency.
I would not pay her.
That night, Arthur called from the hospital.
His voice sounded urgent.
“Sadie, someone came into my room.”
“Who?”
“A nurse. At least, she was dressed like one.”
“Did she hurt you?”
“No. She left something under my pillow.”
Security recovered a small photograph.
It showed Thomas Reed sitting in a chair.
He was older, painfully thin, but alive.
He held a newspaper dated that morning.
On the back, Melanie had written:
Tomorrow, choose one.
Your grandfather.
Your father.
May you like
Or Wyatt.
You cannot save all three.
