Chapter 12 - Her Mother Remembered His Face
The news should have terrified Sadie.
Instead, it made her angry.
Thirteen years.
Jobs.
Apartments.
Her mother’s illness.
Green Hollow.
How much of her life had been coincidence?
How much had been arranged?
Declan wanted to move her somewhere secure.
Sadie refused.
“I’m tired of being moved.”
“This is different.”
“No. It’s the same.”
He frowned.
“How?”
“Everyone decides where I’m safest without asking where I want to be.”
Declan’s expression softened.
“Where do you want to be?”
Sadie had not expected the question.
She looked around the library.
“Here.”
Declan went still.
“Here?”
“For now.”
He nodded once.
“Then here.”
No argument.
That mattered.
Later that afternoon, Eleanor visited the estate.
Dr. Park believed familiar surroundings and family photographs might help stimulate memories.
Sadie worried the mansion would overwhelm her.
Instead Eleanor walked through the entry hall as though she had seen it before.
She stopped beneath a portrait.
Patrick Watters.
Declan’s father.
Her face changed.
“That man.”
Sadie approached.
“You know him?”
Eleanor nodded slowly.
“Bad man.”
Declan stood several feet away.
Sadie glanced at him.
He remained still.
“What did he do?”
Eleanor looked frightened.
“Came to our house.”
Sadie’s breath caught.
“When?”
“After David.”
After her father died.
“What did he want?”
“The book.”
Sadie looked toward Declan.
“He knew about it.”
Eleanor touched her forehead.
“He said David stole something.”
“What happened?”
“I told him I burned everything.”
Sadie stared.
“You lied to Patrick Watters?”
Eleanor smiled faintly.
“Your father wasn’t the only brave Miller.”
Sadie laughed through tears.
Declan lowered his head, almost smiling.
Then Eleanor saw him.
Really saw him.
She stiffened.
“Watters.”
Sadie took her hand.
“It’s okay.”
Eleanor pulled Sadie closer.
“No.”
Declan stepped backward immediately.
“I’ll leave.”
Eleanor stared at him.
Then something shifted.
“You’re not Patrick.”
Declan stopped.
“No, ma’am.”
“You look like his mother.”
Declan’s expression broke for a moment.
Eleanor stepped closer.
Sadie watched.
Her mother touched Declan’s cheek.
“You were little.”
He swallowed.
“You remember me?”
“Your mother brought you once.”
Declan looked shocked.
“When?”
“After David died.”
Sadie stared.
“My mother came?”
Declan whispered.
“Yes.”
Eleanor nodded.
“She cried.”
“What did she say?”
Eleanor struggled.
Words slipped.
Memories tangled.
Sadie waited.
Finally her mother looked at Declan.
“She said she was sorry.”
His eyes filled.
Eleanor continued.
“She said you would fix it.”
Declan’s voice roughened.
“I didn’t.”
“You didn’t know.”
“I should have.”
Eleanor shook her head.
Then, with startling clarity, she said:
“Children don’t owe the world payment for their parents’ sins.”
Nobody moved.
A minute later, she forgot the entire conversation.
She asked where David was.
Sadie took her to the garden.
But Declan remained beneath his father’s portrait.
Staring.
That evening, he removed it from the wall.
Not dramatically.
No smashing.
No fire.
He simply took it down.
Sadie found him carrying it toward storage.
“What are you doing?”
“Making room.”
“For what?”
“I don’t know yet.”
She helped him.
With one good hand.
The empty wall looked strange.
Clean.
Waiting.
That night Agent Collins arrived.
Cole had agreed to testify publicly before a Senate ethics committee.
He planned to deny everything.
“Why isn’t he arrested?” Sadie asked.
“Because powerful people have lawyers.”
“That’s comforting.”
Collins smiled faintly.
“We’re building the case.”
“You have the recording.”
“His attorneys claim editing.”
“Keller?”
“They call him a thief seeking immunity.”
“Shaw?”
“Disgraced lawyer.”
“The ledger?”
“Forgery.”
Sadie stared.
“He can explain everything away?”
“For a while.”
“What do you need?”
“Independent corroboration.”
Declan frowned.
“Meaning?”
“Someone outside the conspiracy who saw Cole with Patrick or David.”
Sadie thought of her mother.
But dementia would make testimony difficult.
Then Mrs. Price entered.
“I did.”
Everyone turned.
She stood in the doorway.
“Thirteen years ago.”
Agent Collins straightened.
“You saw Senator Cole?”
“I saw him leave Patrick’s office the night Detective Miller died.”
Silence.
“Would you testify?”
Mrs. Price looked toward Declan.
Then Sadie.
“Yes.”
The case changed.
But so did the danger.
At 2:03 a.m., someone fired a shot through Mrs. Price’s bedroom window.
Nobody was hurt.
She had been downstairs.
The bullet lodged in a wooden wardrobe.
Declan immediately moved everyone to interior rooms.
Police surrounded the estate.
Sadie stood in the hallway wearing pajamas and her gray cardigan.
Declan approached.
“You still want to stay here?”
“Yes.”
He looked frustrated.
Then impressed.
“You’re impossible.”
“I’ve heard.”
Another officer entered.
“We found the vehicle.”
“Shooter?” Declan asked.
“Gone.”
“Vehicle registered?”
The officer hesitated.
“Yes.”
“To whom?”
He looked at Agent Collins.
She answered.
“The United States Senate motor pool.”
Sadie stared.
Cole was no longer merely denying.
He was panicking.
And panicked powerful men were dangerous.
Declan turned toward Sadie.
“Tomorrow, you and your mother leave Grayhaven.”
“No.”
“Sadie.”
“No.”
“He knows where you are.”
“He has always known where I am.”
She stepped closer.
“That’s the point.”
Declan stared.
“I spent thirteen years shrinking because I thought being unnoticed kept me safe.”
Her eyes filled.
“It didn’t.”
She looked toward the window.
“So I’m done disappearing.”
Declan said nothing.
Sadie continued.
“If Cole wants to explain himself to the world, fine.”
Her voice hardened.
“I want the world listening when he does.”
Agent Collins understood.
“You want to testify publicly.”
“Yes.”
Declan immediately said,
“No.”
Sadie turned.
He closed his eyes.
“Right.”
She raised an eyebrow.
“Growth?”
He looked miserable.
“Apparently.”
Sadie almost smiled.
But the smile vanished when Collins’s phone buzzed.
She read the message.
Then looked up.
“The Senate hearing has been moved.”
“When?”
“Tomorrow morning.”
Sadie’s heartbeat increased.
Cole was accelerating everything.
So would she.
Tomorrow, the woman who had spent most of her life learning how to disappear would sit beneath national television cameras.
May you like
And tell the truth about the men who had counted on her silence.
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