Chapter 9: The Truth About the Second Driver
Damon didn't speak for nearly a minute.
The police vehicle sped through the darkness, its headlights sweeping across the empty road.
Detective Morgan glanced at us through the rearview mirror.
“What happened?””
I held up my phone.
“My father called.””
She immediately reached for her radio.
“Can you trace the number?””
“Not yet,” she replied after a brief exchange with dispatch.
“We'll try to locate the source.””
Damon was staring at his hands.
I watched him.
“Look at me.””
He didn't move.
“Damon.””
Slowly, he raised his head.
“Did you see my mother in the hospital?””
He swallowed.
“Yes.””
The word was barely audible.
I felt as though something inside me had finally broken.
“When?””
“The night of the accident.””
“You told me you never saw her.””
“I told you I didn't see her face.””
“That isn't the same thing.””
“I know.””
I leaned toward him.
“Tell me exactly what happened.””
He rubbed his hands together.
“I was in the hospital for two days. My father stayed with me the first night. The second night, he told me he had to meet with the company's lawyers.””
“And?””
“I heard a woman crying in the next room. She kept asking for her daughter. I called a nurse, but she told me to stay in bed.””
“Then what?””
Damon looked toward the window.
“I got up.””
Detective Morgan slowed the vehicle slightly, listening.
“I walked into the corridor,” Damon continued.
“There was a door at the end, and the woman was inside. I could hear her talking to someone.””
“Who?””
“My father.””
I gripped the edge of the seat.
“What did they say?””
“I couldn't hear everything. I remember her saying that she wouldn't sign anything. My father told her she had no choice.””
Damon's voice cracked.
“Then she said, 'You promised my daughter would be safe.''”
I pressed my hand over my mouth.
My mother.
It had been my mother.
“What happened next?””
“My father saw me in the corridor. He told me to return to my room. I refused. I asked him who the woman was.””
“And he told you?””
“He said she was a witness to the accident. He said she was trying to blame me for something I hadn't done.””
Damon closed his eyes.
“I was still confused. I thought I might have killed someone. I asked him if the woman had been in the other car.””
“What did he say?””
“He told me there hadn't been another car.””
I stared at him.
“He lied.””
“Yes.””
“Then what?””
“He took me back to my room. He told me I had imagined the conversation because of the concussion. The next morning, the woman was gone.””
I looked out at the dark road.
My mother had been alive.
She had been asking for me.
And the people who controlled the hospital had made sure she disappeared before I could find her.
“Why didn't you investigate?”” I asked.
Damon's eyes filled with tears.
“I did.””
I turned toward him.
“What?””
“Years later. I found the hospital records and tried to identify the patient. The file had been sealed. When I asked my father about it, he said the woman had died and the records were destroyed.””
“You believed him again?””
“I wanted to believe him.””
The admission was devastating.
I looked down at my wedding ring.
For two years, I had trusted Damon with the most vulnerable parts of myself.
He had held me while I cried over a mother who had never been dead.
He had told me I wasn't alone.
All the while, he had carried fragments of the truth.
“I'm sorry,” he whispered.
I didn't answer.
I wasn't ready to forgive him.
Not when forgiveness would mean pretending that the past had been less cruel than it was.
Detective Morgan's radio crackled.
“Dispatch to Unit Three. We have a hit on the phone call. The originating signal is moving.””
She glanced at the screen mounted near the dashboard.
“It's coming from a vehicle on the interstate.””
Damon leaned forward.
“Can we intercept it?””
“Not safely. We'll coordinate with highway patrol.””
I looked at my phone.
A new message appeared.
*WAREHOUSE 12. MIDNIGHT. BRING THE ORIGINAL CARD.*
Beneath it was a photograph.
My mother sat in a chair beneath a bare light bulb.
Her hands were tied.
A man stood behind her.
Victor.
He looked older than he had in the video, with gray at his temples and deep lines around his mouth.
But the eyes were unmistakable.
My eyes.
The photograph had been taken recently.
I could tell from the date displayed on the corner.
My mother was alive.
And my father had her.
“Detective,” I said, “we have to go to the warehouse.””
She shook her head.
“Absolutely not.””
“He has my mother.””
“We'll send a tactical team.””
“He'll hurt her before they get there.””
“You don't know that.””
I turned the phone toward her.
She studied the photograph.
Then she handed it back.
“We'll move quickly, but we're not walking into an ambush.””
Damon took my hand.
“She's right.””
I stared at him.
“You just told me you've spent fifteen years hiding from the truth. Don't ask me to wait while my mother is tied to a chair.””
“I'm not asking you to wait.””
“Then what are you asking?””
He took a breath.
“I'm asking you to let us get her out alive.””
I looked at him.
The fear in his face was real.
So was the guilt.
For once, he wasn't trying to tell me what I could handle.
He was asking me to trust him with the one thing I could no longer bear to lose.
I nodded.
“Fine. But if we reach that warehouse and you know something you haven't told me, I will leave you there.””
He gave a small, painful nod.
“Fair.””
Warehouse 12 stood near the river, surrounded by rusted fencing and abandoned loading bays.
At 11:48 p.m., Detective Morgan's team took positions behind a row of parked trucks.
The building was dark except for one illuminated window.
A security camera swept across the entrance.
Damon crouched beside me behind a concrete barrier.
“Stay here until Morgan gives the signal.””
I stared at him.
“Don't start.””
“Serena, please.””
“I'm not going to run into the building without thinking. But I'm not staying behind while everyone else decides what happens to my mother.””
He looked as though he wanted to argue.
Instead, he handed me the memory card.
I stared at him.
“Why?””
“Because you're the one person Victor wants to see.””
“And you?””
“He wants me there, too.””
“Why?””
Damon's jaw tightened.
“Because of what happened at Lake Mercer.””
I looked at him.
“Tell me now.””
He took a breath.
“When I woke up in the hospital, my father told me the woman in the other car had died. But a few days later, I overheard him talking to Victor.””
“What did they say?””
“Victor wanted money. He said he had evidence that could prove I had been driving drunk. He also said he knew your mother had survived.””
I felt my stomach twist.
“Your father paid him?””
“I don't know. I heard them arguing about an account and a trust. Then Victor said something I didn't understand.””
“What?””
Damon looked at the warehouse.
“He said, 'If she remembers what she saw, the whole arrangement falls apart.''”
I stared at him.
“Who was he talking about?””
“You.””
A voice crackled through Detective Morgan's earpiece.
“Team in position. Awaiting confirmation.””
She looked toward us.
“We have movement inside.””
A shadow crossed the illuminated window.
Then a door opened.
Victor Vale stepped into the light.
He wore a dark coat and black gloves.
He looked directly toward the street, as if he knew exactly where we were hiding.
Then he raised one hand.
In it was a photograph.
A photograph of me as a child, standing beside a black sedan.
My father smiled.
Not warmly.
Not with affection.
Like a man who had finally found the missing piece of a puzzle.
He called out into the night.
“Serena! I know you're there.””
Detective Morgan signaled for the team to hold position.
Victor lifted the photograph higher.
“You want your mother? Come inside.””
Damon grabbed my wrist.
“Don't.””
Victor laughed.
“Bring the card, sweetheart. Or Elizabeth dies before midnight.””
I looked at the memory card in my hand.
Then at the warehouse door.
My mother was inside.
My father was waiting.
And somewhere between them lay the truth about the night that had shaped every year of my life.
I stood.
Damon rose beside me.
Detective Morgan whispered, “We have a clear shot. Stay behind the barrier.””
But Victor had already begun counting.
“Ten.””
I took a step forward.
“Nine.””
Damon caught up with me.
“Serena, wait.””
“Eight.””
I looked at him.
“Whatever happens, don't let him separate us.””
He nodded.
“Never.””
“Seven.””
We crossed the open ground.
“Six.””
The security camera turned toward us.
“Five.””
Victor opened the warehouse door wider.
“Four.””
The smell of oil and damp concrete drifted into the night.
“Three.””
I saw my mother through the doorway.
She was alive.
She was looking straight at me.
“Two.””
And then Victor smiled.
“One.””
He raised a gun.
“Welcome home, Serena.””
The sound of a shot exploded through the warehouse.
Damon threw himself in front of me.
I felt him hit the ground.
And when I looked down, there was blood spreading across his shirt.
My husband had been shot.
My mother screamed.
May you like
Victor stepped backward into the darkness.
And the last thing I heard before the police stormed the building was my father saying, “Now we'll find out which one of you remembers the truth.””
