Chapter 3: The Boy They Were Searching For
"Patrick.""
I barely recognized my own voice when I said his name.
The man I had spent seven years sleeping beside.
The man whose shirt I had folded, whose coffee I had made every morning, whose hand I had held when we brought Cody home from the hospital.
The man on the other end of the phone sounded like a stranger.
No.
Worse.
He sounded like someone who had finally stopped pretending.
"Jillian," Patrick said calmly.
"I know you're scared.""
My grip tightened around the phone.
"Where is Cody?""
A pause.
A small one.
But I heard it.
And so did Emmett.
The older man's eyes shifted toward me.
He knew.
He knew Patrick wasn't calling to reassure me.
He was calling because he had something he wanted.
"That's not how this conversation starts," Patrick said.
My chest tightened.
"Where is my son?""
"You always were impatient.""
The casual tone made my stomach twist.
I looked at Emmett.
He gave me a small nod.
Stay calm.
Listen.
So I forced myself to breathe.
"What do you want?""
Patrick laughed quietly.
"I knew you'd ask that eventually.""
"Patrick.""
"You found the file.""
Not a question.
A statement.
The rain against the windows seemed louder.
"You knew.""
"I knew you would find it someday.""
The words cut deeper than I expected.
Because they meant this wasn't an accident.
He had been waiting.
Watching.
Knowing.
"You hid it from me.""
"I protected you from it.""
I almost screamed.
"Protected me?""
My voice broke.
"You sent your family after me.""
"Because you ran.""
"Because I found out you were lying to me!""
Silence.
Then Patrick sighed.
Like I was exhausting him.
"You don't understand what you found.""
"Then explain.""
"I can't.""
"Why?""
"Because you're with him.""
His voice changed.
Just slightly.
But enough.
He wasn't afraid of me.
He was afraid of Emmett.
"You're scared of him," I whispered.
Patrick didn't answer.
That was an answer.
Emmett reached for the phone.
I held it tighter.
"No.""
He looked at me.
I shook my head.
I needed to hear this.
I needed to know how deep the betrayal went.
"Patrick," I said, "why are you afraid of Emmett Carbone?""
Another pause.
Longer this time.
Then Patrick spoke.
"Because your father trusted the wrong person.""
My eyes narrowed.
"My father trusted him?""
"Your father trusted everyone except the people closest to him.""
I felt a cold wave move through me.
"You're talking about yourself.""
"I loved you.""
The words came quickly.
Too quickly.
Like he had rehearsed them.
"I loved you, Jillian. I still do.""
I closed my eyes.
For a second, I saw him standing in our kitchen.
Barefoot.
Smiling.
Holding Cody while pancakes burned on the stove.
Memories were dangerous things.
They made lies harder to hate.
"Then tell me where my son is.""
Patrick became quiet.
When he spoke again, his voice was softer.
"Bring me what your father left.""
My heart stopped.
"What?""
"You heard me.""
"You took my child for something?""
"No.""
"Then why are you bargaining?""
"Because if Malcolm finds what your father hid, Cody won't matter anymore.""
The name made me tense.
"Malcolm.""
Patrick continued.
"You think my uncle wants money? Power? Revenge?""
"What does he want?""
A pause.
Then:
"Proof.""
The word hung there.
"Proof of what?""
Patrick didn't answer.
Instead, he said:
"Ask Emmett Carbone what happened on October 14th.""
The call ended.
I stared at the phone.
The screen went black.
For several seconds, nobody spoke.
Then Emmett said:
"October 14th.""
I looked at him.
"You know that date.""
His face was unreadable.
"Yes.""
"What happened?""
He looked toward the window.
"I killed a man.""
The words landed like a gunshot.
The driver glanced back.
Even he seemed surprised.
My body went still.
"Who?""
Emmett didn't answer.
"Who did you kill?""
He turned toward me.
"Your father's business partner.""
I stared at him.
"My father never had a business partner.""
"That is what you were told.""
I felt anger rising.
Everyone had a version of my life.
Everyone had pieces.
Except me.
"Enough.""
My voice shook.
"Enough with the secrets.""
Emmett watched me silently.
"I lost my son tonight. I don't know where he is. My husband betrayed me.
My family lied to me. And every person in this car seems to know more about my life than I do.""
My eyes burned.
"So either tell me the truth, or drop me somewhere and let me find my own way.""
The car became silent.
Then Emmett leaned forward.
"Your father wasn't the man you thought he was.""
I swallowed.
"What does that mean?""
"It means he spent his life trying to escape something he helped create.""
The words hurt because some part of me believed him.
I remembered my father's nightmares.
The locked drawer in his office.
The way he burned old photographs.
The way he always told me:
"Jillian, promise me something.""
"What?""
"Never trust a person who makes you feel safe just because they know your pain.""
At the time, I thought he was talking about strangers.
Now I wondered if he had been talking about Patrick.
Emmett continued.
"Your father and I were not enemies.""
"Then what were you?""
His answer was quiet.
"Partners.""
I stared at him.
"No.""
"Yes.""
"My father hated you.""
"Your father needed everyone to believe that.""
"Why?""
"Because Malcolm Bannon was watching him.""
The name made my hands go cold.
"Why would Malcolm watch my father?""
"Because your father had evidence.""
"Evidence of what?""
Emmett looked at the man beside the driver.
The younger man immediately opened a locked compartment beneath the seat and removed a small folder.
He handed it back.
Emmett placed it on the seat between us.
"This.""
I looked at the folder.
My father's handwriting was visible on the front.
My heart nearly stopped.
Because I knew that handwriting.
I had seen it on birthday cards.
On notes left beside my breakfast.
On letters he wrote me before he died.
The folder had my name on it.
Not my married name.
My name.
Jillian Bannon.
My fingers hovered above it.
"Where did you get this?""
"Your father gave it to me.""
"When?""
"The night before he died.""
I looked up.
"Then why didn't you give it to me?""
His eyes met mine.
"Because he told me not to.""
"Why?""
Emmett's voice lowered.
"Because he believed the person closest to you was the greatest danger.""
My heart sank.
"Patrick.""
Emmett didn't say yes.
He didn't need to.
I opened the folder.
Inside were documents.
Photographs.
A handwritten letter.
My hands shook as I unfolded the first page.
Jillian,
If you are reading this, then I failed to keep you away from the truth.
I stopped.
My vision blurred.
Emmett watched quietly.
The letter continued.
You will want answers. You will want to know who betrayed you. You will want to blame the people whose names appear on these pages.
But the greatest danger is not the person who hates you.
It is the person who learned how to love you.
I couldn't breathe.
The words on the page seemed to move.
I turned to the next page.
A photograph fell out.
A photograph of Patrick.
But he wasn't alone.
He was standing beside Malcolm.
And beside them was someone else.
Someone I recognized.
Someone who should not have been there.
My fingers went numb.
Because the third person in the photograph was the one person I believed had protected me my entire life.
My mother.
Alive.
Standing beside the two men I was running from.
Emmett saw my face change.
"What is it?""
I couldn't answer.
I just handed him the picture.
For the first time all night, Emmett Carbone looked shocked.
"No.""
His voice was barely a whisper.
"That can't be possible.""
I stared at the photograph.
At my mother's face.
At the date printed on the back.
October 14th.
The day my father died.
Then my phone buzzed.
A new message.
From an unknown number.
I opened it.
One sentence appeared on the screen.
*Stop searching for the truth, Jillian. Your mother never died.*
And beneath it was a second message.
A location.
A place I knew.
A place from my childhood.
The old Bannon family lake house.
The place my father had forbidden me to visit since I was eight years old.
Emmett looked at the screen.
Then immediately said:
"We cannot go there.""
I looked at him.
"Why?""
May you like
His face turned pale.
"Because that is where your father was murdered.""
