Chapter 4 - Room 27

The motel had 40 rooms.

Jolene was in 27.

I stood outside the door for 10 seconds.

Then knocked.

Nothing.

Again.

A child cried inside.

My child.

The sound went through me.

The door opened 3 inches.

Jolene looked out.

Her face changed.

Not surprise.

Resignation.

“You found me.”

“Yes.”

She looked behind me.

“No one else?”

“No.”

That was not completely true.

Trent’s people were 2 streets away.

But no one was visible.

Jolene opened the door.

The room was small.

One bed.

One crib.

Cheap.

Clean.

The baby stopped crying when she lifted him.

A boy.

Maybe 2 months old.

I stopped breathing.

Jolene watched me.

“His name is Elias.”

I stared.

“How old?”

“9 weeks.”

I did the math.

She had been pregnant when she disappeared.

Farther along than I realized.

I stepped closer.

“Is he mine?”

Jolene’s eyes filled.

“Yes.”

I looked at him.

Dark hair.

Small face.

Nothing obvious.

Everything obvious.

I touched the edge of the blanket.

Did not touch him.

Not yet.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

Jolene looked away.

“Because I was afraid.”

“Of me?”

“No.”

“Then why did you let me bury you?”

Her face tightened.

“Desmond said it was the only way to keep Vincent from looking.”

“And me.”

“Yes.”

“You agreed.”

“Yes.”

I stared.

“Why?”

She held Elias closer.

“Because you would have come.”

“Yes.”

“You would have brought people.”

“Yes.”

“You would have made war out of it.”

I laughed once.

“Probably.”

“And Vincent wanted that.”

I stopped.

“What?”

Jolene sat on the bed.

“Vincent wanted you distracted.”

“Why?”

“Because of the Langford deal.”

“I know.”

She looked surprised.

I continued.

“I know about Monica.”

Her face changed.

“What do you know?”

“That she knew about the pregnancy.”

“Yes.”

“That she asked Desmond to move you.”

“Yes.”

“That she was at the hospital the day they faked your death.”

Jolene looked down.

“There was no hospital.”

“I know.”

Silence.

I asked:

“Did Monica threaten you?”

Jolene looked at me.

“No.”

That surprised me.

“What did she do?”

“She offered me money.”

“How much?”

“$2 million.”

I almost laughed.

“For what?”

“To leave the country.”

“And never contact me.”

“Yes.”

“Did you take it?”

“No.”

“Why?”

She looked at Elias.

“Because I was already carrying more than money could fix.”

I stared.

“Did she know Vincent was after you?”

“Not at first.”

“At first.”

Jolene nodded.

“She learned while we were talking.”

“How?”

“Vincent called her.”

I went still.

“He called Monica.”

“Yes.”

“What did he say?”

“That if she could not solve the problem, he would.”

I looked toward the window.

“So Monica went to Desmond.”

“Yes.”

“Why didn’t she come to me?”

Jolene laughed softly.

“Because everyone in your life thinks telling you the truth is the most dangerous option.”

That hurt because it was true.

I looked at her.

“Why did you come back?”

She was silent.

Then:

“My mother.”

I stopped.

“Evelyn.”

Jolene stared at me.

“You know.”

“Yes.”

“Desmond told you.”

“Yes.”

She looked away.

“My mother contacted me 3 weeks ago.”

“After 20 years.”

“Yes.”

“What did she want?”

“To see me.”

“And Elias.”

“Yes.”

“Where is she?”

Jolene looked toward the bathroom.

My body went still.

The door opened.

A woman stepped out.

Late fifties.

Thin.

Gray in her hair.

She looked at me like she had seen my face before.

“Grant Holloway.”

I knew immediately.

“You’re Evelyn Mercer.”

“Yes.”

Jolene whispered:

“Mom.”

Evelyn sat at the table.

I remained standing.

She looked at me.

“You have your father’s eyes.”

I hated the sentence.

“What did my father do to you?”

Jolene looked at her.

Evelyn answered:

“He did not kill me.”

“That is not what I asked.”

“No.”

She nodded slowly.

“He used my work.”

“For what?”

“Hidden accounts.”

“Illegal money.”

“Yes.”

“Did you know?”

“At first, no.”

Then:

“Later, yes.”

I nodded.

“Why did you take the ledgers?”

“Because your father planned to move everything into Desmond’s name.”

I looked at her.

“Why?”

Evelyn’s face changed.

“Because your father was dying.”

I stopped.

“My father died in a shooting.”

“No.”

Silence.

Evelyn continued:

“He was already dying.”

“From what?”

“Cancer.”

I stared.

“No one told me.”

“I know.”

“Desmond knew.”

“Yes.”

Another lie.

Evelyn continued:

“Your father wanted to secure control before he died.”

“For Desmond.”

“Yes.”

“Not me.”

“You were 19.”

“So?”

“He did not trust you yet.”

I laughed bitterly.

“Everyone says age when they mean control.”

Evelyn nodded.

“Yes.”

I looked at her.

“What did you find?”

“One account.”

“Whose?”

She looked toward Jolene.

Then back at me.

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“Monica Langford’s father.”

Silence.