Chapter 14 - Where Mara Had Been Hiding
The call lasted only twelve seconds.
Grant heard his mother’s voice.
Then the line disconnected.
Federal agents traced it to Switzerland.
A hotel outside Geneva.
Grant stood motionless afterward.
Mara touched his shoulder.
“You don’t have to solve everything tonight.”
He laughed bitterly.
“My dead father was alive. My dead uncle is alive. My missing wife is alive. Now my dead mother is calling from Switzerland.”
Mara almost smiled.
“Your family has terrible boundaries with death.”
Grant looked at her.
Then, unexpectedly, laughed.
It was the first genuine laugh either had heard from him in years.
Mara began laughing too.
Perhaps because the alternative was collapsing.
Their laughter woke Sophie.
She came downstairs wearing Grant’s oversized shirt.
“What’s funny?”
“Nothing,” Grant said.
“Then why are you laughing?”
Mara opened her arms.
Sophie climbed into them.
“Your father’s family is complicated.”
Sophie nodded solemnly.
“I know.”
That made them laugh again.
For several hours, they postponed the next mystery.
Grant wanted to know where Mara had been.
Not strategically.
Personally.
They sat by the fireplace after Sophie finally went back to sleep.
Nora joined them.
Mara wrapped a blanket around herself.
“The first thing I remember after the crash is cold.”
Grant listened.
“I woke in a barn.”
“In Maine?”
“New Brunswick.”
“Canada.”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“I still don’t know exactly. A truck driver apparently found me walking near the highway. I wouldn’t tell him my name. Maybe I couldn’t.”
“You had no identification?”
“Nothing.”
“What about your injuries?”
“Concussion. Cracked ribs. Cut on my head.”
Grant looked at the scar.
Mara touched it.
“I was terrified of hospitals.”
“Why?”
“I remembered someone in a gray coat.”
“Voss.”
“Eventually I knew that.”
She continued.
“The driver knew a church shelter. They helped women who didn’t want questions.”
“For eleven months?”
“Different places. I moved.”
Grant struggled with the idea.
“You never saw yourself on television?”
“Once.”
His eyes widened.
“About four months after I disappeared. A television in a diner showed your face.”
“What happened?”
“I had a panic attack.”
“Did you know me?”
“No. But my body reacted before my memory did.”
She smiled sadly.
“I cried for hours without knowing why.”
Grant reached for her hand.
She allowed it.
“The memories came like pieces of glass,” Mara said. “Sharp. Random.”
“Sophie?”
“Before you.”
Grant nodded.
“You always loved her more.”
Mara squeezed his fingers.
“Different kind of love.”
Nora smiled and excused herself.
Grant and Mara were alone.
“Why Nora?” he asked.
“She was patient.”
“I mean why trust her?”
“Because she never pushed me to remember.”
Grant looked toward the doorway.
“She also risked prison for you.”
“I know.”
“You owe her.”
“We both do.”
Silence.
Grant stared at their joined hands.
“You could have called me more recently.”
Mara looked down.
“I know.”
“I need to say that.”
“You’re allowed.”
“When your memory returned—”
“I know.”
“You had a choice.”
“Yes.”
“And you stayed away.”
Tears filled her eyes.
“Yes.”
“Part of me understands.”
“And part doesn’t.”
“No.”
Mara nodded.
“I don’t expect it to.”
Grant’s voice cracked.
“I buried you a thousand times without a body.”
“I know.”
“I walked through morgues.”
She closed her eyes.
“I know.”
“I looked at unidentified women in photographs.”
“Grant…”
“I hated you sometimes.”
Mara cried silently.
“I know.”
“I hated myself afterward.”
She moved closer.
“You’re allowed that too.”
Grant looked at her.
“I don’t know how to be married to you after this.”
Mara swallowed.
“Neither do I.”
The honesty hurt.
It also relieved him.
“So what do we do?”
“We don’t pretend five years didn’t happen.”
Grant nodded.
“We start with tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow.”
Mara rested her head against the sofa.
“What did Sophie think?”
“That you were coming home.”
“Every day?”
“For the first year.”
Mara covered her face.
Grant continued more gently.
“Then every birthday.”
She cried.
“Stop.”
“I’m not trying to hurt you.”
“I know.”
“She eventually stopped asking every day.”
Mara wiped her face.
“That might be worse.”
“It was.”
They sat with that.
Then Mara whispered:
“I watched her school play last year.”
Grant stared.
“What?”
“From the back.”
“You were there?”
“Yes.”
“Sophie played the moon.”
“I know.”
Grant almost became angry.
Then saw Mara’s face.
“You were ten rows away from us?”
“Fifteen.”
“Why didn’t you come down?”
“I saw Voss.”
Grant froze.
“Where?”
“Lobby.”
“Watching us?”
“Yes.”
Grant felt the old rage return.
Mara continued.
“That was when I knew he was still near Sophie.”
“Is that why you sent the photograph warning?”
“No.”
“What?”
“I never sent you a photograph.”
Grant stared.
“The one after Nora arrived.”
Mara shook her head.
“Not me.”
“What about the photograph you received eight months ago?”
“That came from Voss.”
Grant stood.
“Then who warned me to stop asking about you?”
Mara looked frightened.
“I don’t know.”
A knock sounded on the study door.
Federal agent Laura Chen entered.
“Mr. Mercer.”
“What?”
“We traced the caller claiming to be your mother.”
Grant’s heartbeat accelerated.
“Geneva?”
“The call routed through Geneva.”
“But?”
“The original connection came from New York.”
Grant frowned.
“Where?”
Agent Chen handed him a printout.
Mercer Tower.
Grant stared.
Someone inside his own company had pretended to be his mother.
“Can you identify the extension?”
“We did.”
Grant read it.
Executive floor.
An office that had remained empty for five years.
Mara leaned closer.
The nameplate still registered in the internal system under its previous occupant.
MARA MERCER — FOUNDATION CHAIR.
Someone had called Grant from his missing wife’s old office.
And the following morning, security footage showed a woman entering it.
She wore a scarf and sunglasses.
But Grant knew her walk.
Mrs. Hargrove saw the image and whispered:
“That really is Rebecca.”
May you like
Grant’s dead mother had returned to Mercer Tower.
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