Chapter 8 - Nicole's Second Story
Nicole had lied.
Not about everything.
That was what made her dangerous.
The best lies had truth woven through them.
When Harris confronted her about Malcolm, she broke within fifteen minutes.
She had known him for nearly a year.
Patricia introduced them.
Not as family.
As someone who "fixed problems."
Nicole swore she never knew exactly what that meant.
I didn't believe her.
Neither did Emily.
Nicole agreed to another recorded interview.
This time, Emily watched from a separate room with Harris's permission.
I sat beside her.
Grace slept in my arms.
Nicole looked smaller without Brandon beside her.
Less glamorous.
Less certain.
"I didn't want anyone to die," she said.
Harris responded, "You left a newborn in a car."
"I thought Brandon was going back."
"You drove away with him."
"He told me we'd circle the block."
"Did you?"
Nicole began crying.
"No."
"Why not?"
"Because he kept driving."
"Why didn't you call police?"
"I panicked."
Harris leaned forward.
"Tell me about Malcolm."
Nicole wiped her eyes.
"Patricia introduced us last year."
"Why?"
"Brandon had debt collectors showing up."
"From Red Fern?"
"Some."
"Malcolm handled them?"
"He scared people."
"Did he ever discuss Thomas Bennett?"
Nicole hesitated.
"Yes."
Emily gripped my hand.
"What did he say?"
"That Thomas almost ruined everything."
"Everything meaning what?"
"The trust. Brandon's debts. Patricia's company."
Harris slid a photograph across the table.
Thomas's crash.
"Did Malcolm kill him?"
Nicole stared at the image.
"I don't know."
"That's not good enough."
"I really don't know."
She rubbed her forehead.
"But I heard Patricia tell Brandon once that his father-in-law wouldn't be a problem anymore."
My chest tightened.
"When?"
"After the funeral."
Emily made a small sound.
I squeezed her hand.
Harris continued.
"What did you mean when Allison heard you say nobody was supposed to die?"
Nicole looked toward the observation glass.
She couldn't see us.
But somehow I felt she knew Emily was there.
"Malcolm called me after the car."
"And?"
"He said Brandon had made things messy."
"What did you say?"
"That Patricia told us the plan was only to make Emily look dangerous."
"And Malcolm?"
Nicole started shaking.
"He said Patricia was tired of half measures."
Emily stood abruptly.
"I can't listen anymore."
We left the room.
In the hallway, she pressed both hands against her face.
"My husband talked about killing me."
I wrapped my arms around her.
"I married him."
"You didn't know."
"I had a child with him."
"You loved the person he pretended to be."
She looked at Grace.
"What do I tell her one day?"
"The truth."
"What truth?"
"That her mother survived people who underestimated her."
Emily cried against my shoulder.
That afternoon, Harris obtained a warrant for Patricia's house.
She had already left.
Her closets contained missing clothes.
Her passport was gone.
A safe in the study was empty.
Malcolm was gone too.
Victor Hale claimed not to know where she was.
An alert went out.
For the first time, Patricia was officially considered a suspect.
Brandon heard the news from jail.
Then he asked to speak with Emily.
She refused.
He sent a letter.
She refused to open it.
Then his attorney delivered a message.
Brandon claimed he had information about Thomas's death.
Emily finally agreed to a recorded jail call.
I sat beside her.
Brandon appeared on the screen wearing jail clothes.
For the first time in all the years I knew him, he looked ordinary.
No expensive watch.
No carefully styled hair.
No confidence.
"Emily."
She didn't respond.
"I need you to listen."
"You left Grace in that car."
"I know how it looks."
She almost laughed.
"That's still what you're saying?"
"I made a terrible mistake."
"You drugged me."
"My mother gave me the pills."
"So?"
"I didn't know the dose."
Emily's expression hardened.
"You locked the doors."
He looked down.
"I was angry."
"At our three-week-old daughter?"
"No."
"Then why didn't you go back?"
Brandon's face changed.
"Nicole told me you were moving money."
Emily frowned.
"What money?"
"Your father left you millions."
"And that mattered more than Grace?"
"No."
"Then explain it."
Brandon looked toward his lawyer.
Then back at Emily.
"My mother said you were planning to divorce me."
"I wasn't."
"I know that now."
"You almost killed me because you thought I'd leave?"
"No."
His voice broke.
"I wanted to scare you."
Emily stared at him.
"Congratulations."
Brandon wiped his face.
Then he said the reason for the call.
"My mother killed your father."
Silence.
I stopped breathing.
Emily didn't move.
"How do you know?"
"Because she told me."
"When?"
"The night Grace was born."
My eyes filled with tears.
Brandon continued.
"She was angry because I said I wanted out."
"Out of what?"
"Everything."
He laughed bitterly.
"You think my mother only controlled you?"
For the first time, I saw something I hadn't expected.
Fear.
Real fear.
"She controlled me my whole life."
Emily said nothing.
"Red Fern. The debt. Nicole. All of it. Every time I messed up, she fixed it. Then she owned more of me."
"That doesn't excuse you."
"I know."
"Good."
Brandon leaned closer to the camera.
"But Thomas discovered Malcolm had tampered with his first car."
I remembered Daniel saying there had been an earlier brake issue.
"Thomas confronted Patricia."
Brandon continued.
"She promised it would stop."
"It didn't."
"No."
"What happened the night he died?"
Brandon looked directly at me through the camera.
"My mother called Malcolm."
My chest tightened.
"Did you hear her?"
"Yes."
"What did she say?"
"Finish it."
Emily began crying.
I could barely hear my own voice.
"And you said nothing?"
Brandon looked down.
"I was a coward."
"No."
Emily's voice was ice.
"You were an accomplice."
He flinched.
Then he whispered, "Maybe."
Harris stepped forward.
"Where is Patricia?"
Brandon hesitated.
"She has a place nobody knows about."
"Where?"
"My grandfather owned a cabin near Blackwater Lake."
Harris wrote quickly.
"Address?"
Brandon gave directions.
Then he looked at Emily.
"There's something in the cabin."
"What?"
"A safe."
"What is inside?"
"My mother called it insurance."
"Against whom?"
"Everyone."
Harris stood.
Police began moving immediately.
But Brandon suddenly shouted.
"Wait!"
Harris turned.
"Don't send local officers."
"Why?"
"Because Malcolm has friends there."
"What kind of friends?"
Brandon swallowed.
"The kind who wear badges."
Three hours later, state police reached Blackwater Lake.
The cabin was empty.
But the safe was still there.
Inside they found cash.
Fake identification.
Financial ledgers.
And a sealed plastic bag containing one object.
A small metal piece coated with old grease.
The state investigator sent Harris a photograph.
Daniel identified it instantly.
Part of a vehicle brake line.
Attached to it was a handwritten label.
T.B.
Thomas Bennett.
My husband's initials.
After eighteen months, Patricia had kept a trophy.
But underneath the bag sat something even stranger.
A birth certificate.
For a baby boy born thirty-four years earlier.
Mother: Patricia Cole.
Father: Unknown.
Child: Brandon Michael Cole.
Except the birth date wasn't Brandon's.
It belonged to someone else.
Emily stared at it.
"If that's not Brandon… who is it?"
Daniel looked at the document.
Then at the second piece of paper beneath it.
An adoption record.
His face changed.
"Emily."
"What?"
"Brandon isn't Patricia's biological son."
She stared at him.
"Then who is?"
Daniel placed the birth certificate beside an old photograph found in the safe.
Two boys stood beside Patricia.
One was Brandon.
The other was older.
Written on the back was one name.
Michael.
And beneath it:
My first son.
The son no one knew existed.
The son whose birth certificate Patricia had kept hidden for thirty-four years.
May you like
And according to the documents in the safe—
He was still alive.
