Chapter 8 - THE BROTHER MY MOTHER ERASED
I had one uncle.
At least, that was what I remembered.
Michael Bennett.
My father’s older brother.
According to every family story I had ever heard, Michael died in a boating accident when I was eight.
Closed casket.
My parents never discussed him.
There were no photographs after his funeral.
At two in the morning, I drove back to the motel.
Mom opened the door and immediately knew why I was there.
“You spoke to your father.”
“Michael didn’t die.”
She stepped aside.
I entered.
“Tell me.”
“It isn’t relevant.”
“Madison is missing, my business was attacked, Sterling is compromised, and someone cloned my access badge to enter Meridian. I decide what’s relevant.”
Mom sat on the edge of the bed.
For several seconds she looked older than I had ever seen her.
Then she whispered:
“Michael worked for Meridian before it was Meridian.”
“What does that mean?”
“The company had another name.”
“Which?”
“Halcyon Research Systems.”
I had heard of Halcyon.
Anyone who followed corporate scandals had.
They collapsed after a federal investigation into procurement fraud and illegal clinical contracting.
Meridian bought their assets years later.
“What did Michael do?”
“Corporate security.”
“What happened?”
“He found something.”
“Suite 19?”
Mom nodded.
“Your father said Michael became obsessed. He thought Halcyon executives were using vendor companies to move information out of secure facilities.”
“Catering companies.”
“Yes.”
The word landed hard.
Food trucks.
Delivery crates.
Temporary staff.
Access without attention.
The perfect cover.
“What happened to him?”
“One night he called your father and said he had proof.”
“And?”
“He disappeared.”
“You told me he drowned.”
“We needed you children to stop asking questions.”
I stared at her.
“You lied about a man’s death for twenty-six years.”
“Your father insisted.”
“You always say Dad insisted after you get caught.”
That one hit.
Mom looked away.
Then my phone rang.
Madison.
I answered immediately.
“Madison?”
Static.
Then breathing.
“Claire.”
Her voice was weak.
“Where are you?”
“I don’t know.”
“Are you hurt?”
“Yes.”
Mom grabbed my arm.
I put the call on speaker.
Madison continued.
“They keep asking about the contract.”
“What contract?”
“Meridian.”
“I don’t have a secret contract.”
“They think you do.”
“Who is they?”
“I only know one name.”
“What name?”
“Michael.”
Mom made a sound beside me.
Not a gasp.
A whimper.
I froze.
“Madison, listen carefully. Did you see him?”
“Yes.”
“What does he look like?”
“Older than Dad.”
Mom sat down hard.
Madison whispered:
“He said Dad ruined everything.”
My heart pounded.
“Where are you?”
“I told you, I don’t know.”
“Look around.”
“Concrete room. No windows.”
“Anything else?”
“A red door.”
Then someone shouted in the background.
Madison started crying.
“Claire, I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
“All of it.”
“Madison—”
“I thought they just wanted the company.”
The line crackled.
“I didn’t know they wanted you.”
The call disconnected.
I stared at the phone.
Mom covered her face.
I looked at her.
“You knew Michael was alive.”
“No.”
“You reacted before Madison described him.”
Mom shook her head.
“You knew.”
“I suspected.”
“Since when?”
She started sobbing.
“Three months.”
My skin went cold.
Three months.
Around the same time Sterling approached me.
Around the same time Madison’s lender increased pressure.
Around the same time someone tried to break into one of my vans.
“What happened three months ago?”
Mom whispered:
“I received a photograph.”
“Of Michael?”
She nodded.
“Where?”
She stood and opened her suitcase.
From beneath the lining, she pulled out an envelope.
Inside was one photograph.
My mother.
My father.
Madison.
And me.
Taken outside my parents’ house.
Across the bottom, handwritten in black ink:
YOU LET THEM TELL HER I WAS DEAD.
I turned the photo over.
May you like
One sentence was written on the back.
WHEN CLAIRE BUILDS THE DOOR, I’M COMING THROUGH IT.
