Chapter 7: The Woman Who Held My Father's Hand
“Brianna!””
I shouted her name into the phone.
Nothing.
I tried calling again.
The line went straight to voicemail.
My fingers were trembling so badly that I almost dropped the phone.
Daniel grabbed his jacket.
“We're going to the mansion.””
Detective Miller immediately shook his head.
“No. My officers are already securing the property. We don't know whether the person who took Brianna is still there.””
“I don't care!”” I snapped.
“She's my sister!””
My words surprised even me.
After everything Brianna had done, I still couldn't stand the thought of her being hurt.
My mother approached me.
“Nia, sweetheart, let the police handle this.””
“She said she found the hospital records. She knows something about Dad's last night.””
Detective Miller looked at me.
“What exactly did she say?””
I repeated Brianna's words.
Dad wasn't the only person in that room that night.
The detective became thoughtful.
Then he pulled out his phone.
“There's something I haven't told you.””
Daniel crossed his arms.
“What?””
“When we reopened Thomas Carter's case, we discovered that the original hospital records had been partially removed from the archive.””
Evelyn looked up.
“Removed?””
“Yes. The records showed that three people had been authorized to visit Thomas after the accident.””
I leaned forward.
“Who?””
The detective opened a file.
“Amara Carter. Vanessa Reed. And a nurse named Patricia Lawson.””
My mother went pale.
“Patricia?””
“You know her?”” I asked.
Amara nodded slowly.
“She was the nurse who contacted me after Thomas died.””
Detective Miller looked at her.
“Do you know where she is?””
“I haven't heard from her in years.””
He checked his notes.
“She's been living in Macon. But according to the hospital's employment records, she resigned three days after Thomas's death.””
I stared at him.
“Why would she leave?””
“We don't know yet.””
Daniel looked toward the door.
“Then that's where we need to go.””
The detective nodded.
“I'll arrange a team.””
I turned to him.
“And Brianna?””
“We'll find her.””
I wanted to believe him.
But something inside me kept returning to the sound of her scream.
We arrived at the old Carter mansion shortly after sunset.
Police cars surrounded the entrance. Yellow tape stretched across the driveway, and several officers were examining the ground near the garage.
My father's house looked different under the flashing lights.
Smaller.
Colder.
Like a place that had swallowed too many secrets.
A detective approached Miller.
“Sir, we found a vehicle behind the garage.””
“Whose?””
“Registered to Brianna Reed.””
“Any sign of the owner?””
“No.””
He handed Miller a plastic evidence bag.
Inside was a small silver cuff link.
The matching one to the object Brianna had photographed.
Miller examined it.
“Where did you find this?””
“Under the passenger seat.””
I leaned closer.
“That's Dad's.””
Miller nodded.
“Do you know how it got there?””
I shook my head.
Then I noticed something on the back of the cuff link.
A tiny engraving.
*T.C. — 1989.*
My father had received the pair from his own father.
He never took them off.
Except on the night he died.
I looked toward the mansion.
“Someone put it there.””
Miller nodded.
“That's what we're investigating.””
An officer approached us.
“Detective, we found something in the study.””
He held up a small plastic evidence container.
Inside was a torn piece of paper.
Miller examined it.
Then his face tightened.
“What is it?”” I asked.
He handed it to me.
It was part of a hospital visitor authorization form.
The date matched the night of my father's accident.
At the bottom was a handwritten instruction.
*Do not allow Nia Carter into the room.*
My name.
My father's final hours.
And someone's deliberate decision to keep me away.
I felt my stomach turn.
“Who signed this?””
Miller pointed to the signature.
“Vanessa Reed.””
I looked at Daniel.
He was already photographing the document.
“This is important,” he said.
Miller nodded.
“Very.””
Then another officer approached.
“Detective, there's a second item.””
He handed Miller a small envelope.
It was addressed to Brianna.
Inside was a handwritten note.
I recognized Vanessa's handwriting immediately.
If you want to protect your mother, keep your mouth shut.
Beneath it was another sentence.
You know what happened to Thomas. Don't make me remind you.
I stared at the words.
Brianna knew something.
And Vanessa knew she knew.
At 8:42 p.m., Detective Miller received a call from an officer stationed near the rear entrance.
They had found a second vehicle.
It was parked behind a closed pharmacy about two miles from the mansion.
The vehicle belonged to Richard Hale.
Inside, officers found a bloodstained jacket, several passports, and a folder containing photographs of me.
Some had been taken outside my bedroom window.
Others showed me entering the community center in Savannah.
One photograph had been taken only hours earlier.
It showed my mother standing beside me.
I felt sick.
“He's been following us.””
Daniel looked furious.
“Vanessa knew where we were going.””
Miller immediately radioed for additional protection for Amara.
Then he opened the folder.
“There are more photographs.””
He placed them on the hood of the police car.
The first showed my father leaving his office.
The second showed Richard standing beside his car.
The third showed Vanessa speaking to a mechanic.
And the fourth made me stop breathing.
It showed Brianna.
She was standing in the hospital corridor on the night my father died.
She looked much younger, perhaps fifteen.
Her hair was tied in two braids.
She was holding a stuffed rabbit.
I stared at the photograph.
“Why was she there?””
Nobody answered.
Miller turned it over.
There was a date and a handwritten note.
*Witness present. Child saw everything.*
I looked toward Daniel.
“Brianna saw what happened?””
He slowly nodded.
“It's possible.””
My mind returned to Brianna's phone call.
Dad wasn't the only person in that room that night.
I suddenly understood.
She wasn't talking about the people who had entered the hospital.
She was talking about someone who had been there from the beginning.
Someone who had witnessed what happened before the crash.
Someone who had never told the truth.
My phone vibrated.
A message appeared.
*Unknown Number: Stop looking for Patricia Lawson.*
Another message followed.
*She isn't the person you should be afraid of.*
Then a photograph appeared.
It showed Brianna sitting in a dark room.
Her hands were tied.
Her face was bruised.
Behind her stood a man.
Richard Hale.
My breath caught.
Daniel grabbed the phone.
“Send this to Miller.””
I did.
Seconds later, the detective was giving orders.
“Trace the number. Send units to every property connected to Hale.””
Then my phone vibrated again.
*Unknown Number: Midnight. Old Carter Textile warehouse. Come with the original recording. No police.*
I looked at Daniel.
“It's a trap.””
“Obviously.””
“But Brianna is there.””
Miller stepped forward.
“We'll use the message to locate the building. You're not going anywhere alone.””
I looked at the photograph again.
Brianna's eyes were fixed on the camera.
She was terrified.
And beneath the fear, I saw something else.
Regret.
I remembered the day she had demanded my dress.
The way she had laughed when I told her I needed money for my eyesight.
The way she had watched Vanessa slap me.
I remembered every cruel thing she had said.
But I also remembered the little girl in the hospital photograph.
The girl who had once sat beside my father, holding a stuffed rabbit.
I turned toward Miller.
“Find her.””
“We will.””
“And find Patricia Lawson.””
The detective nodded.
“We're already working on it.””
Then my mother touched my shoulder.
“Nia.””
I turned.
She was holding a small photograph.
It was another picture of my father.
But this one showed him standing with Patricia Lawson outside the hospital.
On the back, he had written something.
Patricia knows the truth about the last thirty minutes.
I stared at the sentence.
“Thirty minutes before what?””
Amara looked at me.
“Before your father died.””
I looked toward the dark road.
And suddenly I knew where we needed to go.
Not the warehouse.
Not the mansion.
The hospital.
Because somewhere in its records was the missing thirty minutes that could finally explain what happened to my father.
And the woman who had been with him was still alive.
At 10:15 p.m., Detective Miller's phone rang.
He listened.
Then slowly lowered it.
“We found Patricia Lawson.””
“Where?””
“Her home in Macon.””
“Is she safe?””
He hesitated.
“She was found unconscious.””
My heart sank.
“What happened?””
“Someone broke into her house.””
Daniel swore under his breath.
Miller continued.
“But she survived. She's been taken to a secure medical facility.””
I closed my eyes.
“Can we speak to her?””
“Not until the doctors clear her.””
I looked at the hospital photograph again.
Patricia had been there when my father died.
She had contacted my mother.
She had tried to tell the truth.
And someone had spent two years making sure she stayed silent.
Then Detective Miller received another message.
He read it.
His expression changed.
“What is it?”” I asked.
He showed me his phone.
It was a photograph of Patricia's hospital bed.
Someone had placed a handwritten note on the pillow.
*Ask Nia why her father was smiling when he died.*
I stared at it.
My father smiling?
That made no sense.
He had been injured.
He had been asking for me.
Why would anyone mention his smile?
May you like
Then I noticed the final line.
*The truth is not what you think.*
