Chapter 3 - The Reason I Had Chosen to Be AloneBy morning, Leah was waiting outside my office.
She had brought coffee.
Not breakfast.
Coffee.
“Marlo said you wouldn't eat.”
I took the cup.
“Marlo talks too much.”
“He's worried about you.”
“He's worried about everyone.”
She leaned against my desk.
“Tell me.”
I looked at her.
“You know something happened.”
“Yes.”
“Then why aren't you asking?”
“Because you'll tell me when you're ready.”
I studied her.
Most people pressed when I went quiet.
Leah didn't.
That made it harder to keep distance.
I showed her the county records.
She stared.
“My father worked with yours?”
“Apparently.”
“Why didn't anyone tell me?”
“Maybe because they couldn't.”
“Or wouldn't.”
I nodded.
She looked at me.
“What happened to your father?”
I told her.
Not everything.
But enough.
His death had been ruled accidental.
Three days before he died, he had called me.
He told me to keep a specific brown ledger safe.
The ledger disappeared after his death.
My mother had died before him.
Emily had been the last person I loved.
She left because I shut her out.
And I had spent nine years believing distance was safer than attachment.
Leah listened.
Then asked:
“Do you hate your father?”
I wasn't expecting that.
“I don't know.”
“That's honest.”
“I hate the possibility that he was a bad man.”
“You're allowed to hate what he did without hating him.”
I looked at her.
“That sounds easier than it is.”
“I know.”
She told me about her own father.
Thomas had been loving but distant.
He had traveled often.
He had kept secrets.
After his death, Leah had found dozens of unanswered letters in his office.
Letters to my father.
Letters to June.
Letters to Grant's father.
One line appeared repeatedly.
We can't let them turn Hawthorne into another North Ridge.
I recognized North Ridge.
It was a development scandal from the nineties.
People lost homes.
Businesses collapsed.
Several investors were ruined.
The official cause was mismanagement.
But rumor said someone had manipulated the project for profit.
I opened my father's files again.
There it was.
A legal report.
North Ridge had been financed through a consortium that included Nathan Halpern.
My father had testified against him.
Then withdrawn.
Why?
Because Thomas Monroe had asked him to.
Something was missing.
We needed the missing ledger.
That afternoon, Leah and I searched the archive storage at Carter Restoration.
Behind an old drafting cabinet, I found another compartment.
Inside:
My father's handwritten notes.
A key.
And one sentence:
The woman who knows the truth is closer than you think.
Leah read it.
“Who?”
“I don't know.”
Then she went very quiet.
“My mother.”
I looked at her.
“Your mother?”
“She died when I was eight.”
I remembered.
Sarah Monroe had died from complications after surgery.
Or that's what Leah had been told.
“Your grandmother raised you after that?”
“Yes.”
“Did she ever talk about your mother?”
“Never.”
That was suspicious.
We drove to June's former house.
It had been empty since her death.
The place smelled like old cedar and lavender.
Leah found a box of photographs.
In one, Sarah Monroe stood beside my father.
Another showed Thomas.
Another showed June.
And in the corner of the final photograph stood a younger Grant Halpern.
A pattern was emerging.
Before we could examine it, the basement door slammed.
We turned.
Someone was downstairs.
I moved Leah behind me.
Footsteps approached.
A man appeared.
He was maybe sixty.
Gray beard.
Heavy coat.
He looked at me.
“Owen Carter?”
“Yes.”
“My name is Samuel Reed.”
“The pastor?”
He nodded.
“I knew your father.”
“Why are you here?”
“Because your grandmother asked me to watch over Leah.”
Leah stepped forward.
“For how long?”
“Since your mother died.”
Her face went pale.
“You knew my mother.”
Samuel nodded.
“And I know how she died.”
Silence.
Leah whispered:
“What happened?”
Samuel looked at me.
Then at her.
“She wasn't sick.”
Leah covered her mouth.
I felt my chest tighten.
“What are you saying?”
“She was murdered.”
Leah staggered.
I caught her.
Samuel continued.
“Your father found out about a financial fraud connected to Hawthorne.”
“And my mother?”
“She knew.”
“Who killed her?”
Samuel's face hardened.
“That's why your grandmother kept you away from certain people.”
“Who?”
“Grant Halpern's father.”
Leah's eyes filled.
“But Nathan Halpern is dead.”
“Dead men still leave fingerprints.”
Samuel handed us an envelope.
Inside was a letter from Sarah.
It had been written fifteen years ago.
If Owen Carter ever appears in Leah's life, trust him. Your husband trusted his father. Whatever happens, do not let Leah sign Hawthorne away.
Leah stared at the words.
Then asked:
“Why would my mother know Owen?”
Samuel looked at me.
“Because your father and his father were working together.”
“On what?”
Samuel took a breath.
“Bringing down Nathan Halpern.”
Then the basement window shattered.
A bullet struck the wall beside Leah's head.
I pulled her down.
Samuel reached for the lights.
A second shot.
A third.
Then silence.
We waited.
I looked toward the window.
A dark car sped away.
Leah trembled.
I grabbed her hand.
“You okay?”
She nodded.
But she didn't let go.
Neither did I.
That night, I realized something terrible.
I no longer wanted to be alone.
Not because I was lonely.
May you like
Because for the first time in years, there was someone I wanted to protect.
And that frightened me more than the bullet.
Related Stories
