Chapter 8 - ANNA'S MOTHER KNEW THE BENNETTS
Anna took the phone.
Detective Mills tried to stop her.
Too late.
“Who are you?”
The man breathed quietly.
“You sound like Margaret.”
Anna froze.
Her mother’s name.
Margaret Cole.
A school librarian from Ohio.
Widowed early.
Dead from a stroke at forty-eight.
At least that was the life Anna knew.
“How do you know my mother?”
“I knew her before you were born.”
“Who are you?”
“Thomas Bennett.”
Richard stood.
Anna gripped the phone tighter.
“You’re dead.”
“So was I supposed to be.”
“Why are Vanessa and Marcus working for you?”
Silence.
Then Thomas said something unexpected.
“They’re not.”
Anna looked at Detective Mills.
“What?”
“Vanessa thinks she works for me.”
Richard whispered, “What does that mean?”
Thomas heard him.
“Richard?”
“Yes.”
“I’m sorry about Emma.”
Richard’s face hardened.
“You don’t get to say her name.”
“I know.”
“Where were you when she was dying?”
“Trying to stay alive.”
“Convenient.”
Thomas exhaled.
“You want anger? Keep it. You earned it. But if Vanessa pushed Leo, you are running out of time.”
“For what?”
“She wasn’t supposed to hurt him.”
Richard nearly shouted.
“Then why was she in my house?”
“To get access to the trust.”
“So you did send her.”
“No.”
“Stop playing games.”
Thomas’s voice sharpened.
“The messages in Vanessa’s apartment were not written by me.”
Detective Mills took the phone back.
“We can verify handwriting.”
“You should.”
“Where are you?”
“I’m not telling you.”
“Then this conversation ends.”
“Detective, if I tell you where I am before you understand who is inside your department, Anna and Leo may be dead before sunrise.”
The room went silent.
Mills’ face hardened.
“That’s a serious accusation.”
“It’s meant to be.”
He disconnected.
Anna stared at the phone.
“Inside your department?”
Detective Mills immediately stepped outside.
Richard looked at Anna.
“What did he mean about your mother?”
“I don’t know.”
But one memory returned.
Anna was eleven.
Her mother had received a Christmas card.
No return address.
When Anna asked who sent it, Margaret tore it in half and threw it away.
Later that night, Anna saw her crying.
She had forgotten that memory for twenty years.
Detective Mills returned.
“We’re moving you.”
“Where?”
“Secure location.”
“Because of one phone call?”
“No.”
She looked at Richard.
“Because someone accessed the case-management system thirteen minutes ago.”
“Who?”
“A police credential.”
“What did they view?”
“Leo’s room number.”
Anna felt sick.
Hospital security arrived.
They moved Leo through a private service corridor.
Richard carried him.
Anna walked beside them.
As the elevator descended, the lights flickered.
Everyone stopped.
One floor.
Two.
Then the elevator halted.
Emergency lights came on.
Leo started crying.
Richard held him closer.
Detective Mills reached for her radio.
Static.
Anna’s breathing became shallow.
Then someone struck the outside of the elevator doors.
Once.
Twice.
A man’s voice:
“Police maintenance. We’re opening the doors.”
Mills immediately drew her weapon.
“Do not open them.”
The voice stopped.
Silence.
Then footsteps moved away.
The elevator restarted thirty seconds later.
When they reached the parking level, two uniformed officers waited.
Mills studied them.
Then said:
“Give me your unit numbers.”
One answered immediately.
The other hesitated.
That was enough.
Mills raised her weapon.
“Hands!”
The second officer ran.
He made it twelve feet before hospital security tackled him.
His uniform was real.
His badge was real.
But he was not assigned to the hospital.
Inside his jacket they found a syringe.
No label.
A photograph of Leo.
And Anna’s home address.
Detective Mills stared at the man.
“Who sent you?”
He smiled.
“Ask Anna’s mother.”
Anna felt the blood leave her face.
“My mother is dead.”
May you like
The man’s smile widened.
“That’s what Margaret wanted you to believe.”
