Chapter 9 - A Debt I Never Knew He Paid
The woman waiting upstairs was seventy if she was a day.
Small.
Silver-haired.
Perfect posture.
She introduced herself as Margaret Bell.
I had never seen her before.
She knew my mother’s favorite song.
That got my attention.
“She worked with Elaine at Harbor Pharmaceutical,” Margaret said.
“My mother never mentioned you.”
“She wouldn’t.”
“Why?”
“Because I was involved with something she wanted you kept away from.”
Damian stood beside the door.
Margaret looked at him.
“You have your father’s eyes.”
His expression went cold.
“You knew him?”
“I knew all of them.”
She placed a leather folder on the table.
“Your mother, Mara, discovered irregular pharmaceutical shipments nine years ago.”
My chest tightened.
“What kind?”
“Controlled medications being diverted through charitable freight.”
I thought of Michael’s containers.
“No.”
Margaret nodded.
“She reported it internally. Nothing happened. Then she contacted Michael Cross.”
I looked at Damian.
He looked just as shocked.
“Michael knew my mother?”
Margaret answered.
“They were working together.”
The room seemed suddenly too small.
“Why?”
“Because Michael was tracking the same shipments.”
I sat down.
My mother.
Michael.
Harbor Meridian.
Warehouse 17.
All connected before I had ever met Damian.
Margaret opened the folder.
Inside were photocopies of shipping manifests covered with my mother’s handwriting.
I recognized it instantly.
My eyes burned.
“She knew?”
“She knew someone was replacing legitimate medical supplies with illegal cargo, then using the charity manifests to move everything unnoticed.”
“Mercer?”
“His network.”
Damian’s voice was hard.
“But not necessarily his orders.”
Margaret nodded.
“Exactly.”
The sophistication of the scheme had allowed someone inside the Cross organization to make millions while blaming Mercer’s operation.
“Anthony,” Damian said.
Margaret looked at him.
“Michael suspected him.”
“Did my mother?”
“She suspected someone called A.C.”
Damian went still.
Anthony Cross.
I felt sick.
“What happened to my mother?”
Margaret’s expression softened.
“Cancer happened to your mother, Mara. Nothing more sinister.”
I released a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding.
“But shortly before she became ill, she gave me copies of everything.”
“Why didn’t you come forward?”
“Michael died.”
Fear entered her eyes.
“Then two people connected to the investigation disappeared. Elaine told me to destroy the records.”
“You didn’t.”
“No.”
“Why come now?”
Margaret looked toward Damian.
“Because yesterday someone broke into my house.”
Silence.
“They knew?”
“They knew something existed.”
Damian asked, “Where are the originals?”
Margaret smiled sadly.
“Your brother knew.”
We all looked at him.
“You said he died before telling anyone,” I said.
“Apparently he told my mother.”
My voice cracked on the word.
For years, Mom had been gone.
Now suddenly she existed everywhere around me.
In shipping manifests.
In Michael’s investigation.
In Damian’s clinic.
In a debt I never knew had been paid because Damian had indirectly owed something to my family long before either of us understood why.
I looked at him.
“Did you know any of this when you paid her hospital bill?”
“No.”
“Are you sure?”
His eyes hardened.
“Mara.”
“I need the truth.”
“I told you the truth.”
Margaret interrupted gently.
“Damian paid because Luca told him what you did for his brother.”
She looked at me.
“Your mother never told him who you were.”
I believed her.
But the coincidence felt unbearable.
Or maybe it wasn’t coincidence.
Maybe our lives had been circling the same secret for years.
Damian crouched beside my chair.
“You can walk away.”
I laughed weakly.
“I think we passed that exit.”
“I mean it.”
“So do I.”
He looked frustrated.
“Why do you insist on making this difficult?”
“Because people who care about me keep deciding what I should know for my own protection.”
His expression changed.
Mom had done it.
Michael had done it to him.
Now Damian was doing it to me.
He understood.
“I won’t lie to you,” he said.
“That’s not the same as telling me everything.”
“No.”
“Then tell me everything.”
A long pause.
“My uncle Anthony practically raised me after my father died.”
I stayed silent.
“He taught me the business. Taught me how to tell when a man is lying. How to negotiate. How to survive.”
“And you think he killed Michael?”
Damian’s eyes darkened.
“I think Michael believed he could prove Anthony was stealing from us.”
“Would Anthony kill him over money?”
“No.”
That answer came quickly.
“Then why?”
Damian stood.
“That’s what scares me.”
His phone vibrated.
One message.
From Anthony Cross.
Dinner. Tonight. Family only. Bring the nurse if you’ve already made the mistake of trusting her.
Damian stared at it.
I read over his shoulder.
“That’s not ominous at all.”
“You’re not going.”
“Obviously I am.”
“No.”
“Damian.”
“No.”
“Family only,” I reminded him. “Apparently I’ve been invited.”
His eyes narrowed.
“You find this amusing?”
“Not even slightly.”
“Good.”
“Still going.”
Margaret watched us with a peculiar expression.
Almost affection.
“Elaine used to argue exactly like that.”
I smiled despite myself.
Damian did not.
But when we prepared to leave, he took my hand.
Not my elbow.
Not my back.
My hand.
“Stay beside me.”
For the first time, I didn’t argue.
Because somewhere across Boston, Anthony Cross was waiting.
May you like
And after eight years of secrets, the Cross family was finally going to sit at the same table as the truth.
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