Chapter 4 - The Photograph Outside My Mother's House
The moment I saw my mother's house on my phone, I forgot Richard Croft existed.
My mother lived alone in a modest brick home outside Philadelphia.
She kept flowers on the front porch.
She hated driving after dark.
And every Sunday, she still set an extra place at dinner because she couldn't bring herself to forget Ethan.
Now someone had photographed her front door.
I immediately called.
She answered after four rings.
"Khloe?"
"Mom, are you home?"
"Of course, sweetheart."
"Is the door locked?"
A pause.
"What's wrong?"
I closed my eyes.
"Please check."
She sounded frightened.
"Khloe, you're scaring me."
"I know. I'm sorry."
Arthur stood beside me.
He was already speaking quietly to someone on his phone.
My mother returned to the call.
"It's locked."
"Good. Don't open it to anyone you aren't expecting."
"What's happening?"
I swallowed.
For six years, I'd avoided discussing Ethan because watching her cry felt unbearable.
Now I had to tell her something even more frightening.
"Mom, I found information about Ethan."
Silence.
Then she whispered:
"What information?"
I stared at the photograph.
"I think he may be alive."
The line went completely quiet.
"Mom?"
A small sound came through the phone.
Then she began crying.
"No."
"Mom—"
"No, Khloe."
Her voice broke.
"Don't do this to me."
My heart shattered.
"I wouldn't say it if I didn't have a reason."
She took a shaky breath.
Then whispered something unexpected.
"I know."
I froze.
"What?"
"I know Ethan might still be alive."
I stared at the wall.
For several seconds, I couldn't speak.
"How?"
My mother began crying harder.
"Because he called me last Christmas."
The restaurant disappeared around me.
"You spoke to him?"
"Only for a minute."
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"He begged me not to."
I pressed my hand over my mouth.
"Mom, what did he say?"
She hesitated.
"He said he was trying to come home."
Tears spilled down my cheeks.
"What else?"
"He said Richard Croft had ruined people's lives, and he was trying to stop him."
I closed my eyes.
That sounded like my brother.
Exactly like him.
Then my mother whispered:
"Khloe, Ethan told me something else."
My heart raced.
"What?"
"He said the robbery was staged."
I stared.
"And?"
"He said someone inside his bank helped arrange his disappearance."
My chest tightened.
"Who?"
She swallowed.
"The bank's former chairman."
I froze.
Because six years earlier, the chairman of Ethan's bank had been a man named Arthur Pendleton.
The same man who had hired me to investigate Richard Croft.
May you like
The same man sitting ten feet away.
And the same man who'd been quietly watching me all evening.
