Chapter 6: The Brother Who Sold The Truth
The farmhouse became silent after we read the letter.
Not peaceful silence.
The kind that comes after someone says something impossible.
Cody stared at the paper like if he looked long enough, the words would rearrange themselves.
They didn't.
Patrick helped them.
Patrick.
The man who packed Cody's lunch.
The man who drove him to soccer practice.
The man who stood beside me at bedtime when Cody had nightmares.
My husband.
My family.
A murderer?
"No," Cody whispered.
I looked at him.
"Cody.""
"No.""
His voice grew louder.
"My dad loved Patrick.""
Emmett didn't respond.
Because he knew.
He knew the hardest truth.
People could love someone who betrayed them.
Sometimes that was what made betrayal hurt.
Cody pushed away from the table.
"This is fake.""
"Son—"
"Don't call me that.""
Emmett stopped.
Cody's eyes filled with anger.
"You don't get to call me that.""
The words hurt Emmett.
I saw it.
But he accepted it.
"I understand.""
"No, you don't.""
Cody pointed at the letter.
"My whole life is a lie.""
I moved toward him.
"Cody.""
He stepped back.
"I need air.""
He walked outside.
I followed.
The field behind the farmhouse stretched endlessly.
For a moment, he looked much younger.
Not sixteen.
Maybe twelve.
Maybe eight.
The age he was when he first called me Mom.
"I don't understand," he said.
I stayed beside him.
"You don't have to.""
"Everyone knew something except me.""
I didn't answer.
Because he was right.
His entire life had been shaped by adults making choices without him.
"I thought Dad was the only person who didn't leave.""
My heart broke.
"He didn't leave.""
"He died.""
"I know.""
"And Mom died.""
I swallowed.
"Yes.""
"And now Patrick...""
His voice cracked.
I reached for his hand.
This time, he let me.
"I don't know who my family is.""
I looked back at the farmhouse.
At Emmett standing alone in the doorway.
"Maybe family isn't always who you're born with.""
Cody looked at me.
"Then who is it?""
I squeezed his hand.
"The people who stay.""
For a moment, neither of us spoke.
Then my phone rang.
Patrick.
Again.
I stared at the screen.
Cody saw.
"Don't answer.""
I almost listened.
Almost.
But I needed answers.
I accepted.
"Patrick.""
His voice came instantly.
"Where is Cody?""
No greeting.
No concern.
Only demand.
I felt something inside me break.
"You know where he is.""
A pause.
"Jillian.""
"No. Don't do that.""
"Do what?""
"Pretend you're worried.""
His breathing changed.
"You don't understand what's happening.""
"Then explain.""
Silence.
"Patrick.""
Finally:
"Come home.""
I laughed quietly.
"You still think I will.""
"You don't know who you're dealing with.""
"I know exactly who I'm dealing with.""
"No, you don't.""
His voice lowered.
"You think Malcolm is the danger?""
I looked toward Emmett.
"Isn't he?""
Patrick said nothing.
Then:
"Ask Emmett what happened to Laura.""
My blood froze.
"What?""
"Ask him why she really died.""
The call ended.
I slowly lowered the phone.
Emmett was watching me.
"You heard.""
He nodded.
"Yes.""
"Is it true?""
"What?""
"Did you have something to do with Laura's death?""
The question hurt him.
I saw it.
But he didn't avoid it.
"No.""
One word.
Certain.
Then he walked toward us.
"But Patrick wants you to believe that.""
"Why?""
"Because fear is easier to control than truth.""
Before I could answer, a loud crash came from inside the farmhouse.
Everyone turned.
The front window shattered.
Cody dropped to the ground.
Emmett pulled us behind the wall.
A gunshot echoed through the field.
Then another.
Someone was shooting at the house.
Emmett looked toward the darkness outside.
"They found us.""
I held Cody close.
"Who?""
Emmett's face became cold.
"Someone who doesn't want that letter opened.""
Another shot.
Then Cody suddenly grabbed my arm.
"Jillian.""
"What?""
He pointed at the table inside.
The letter.
It was gone.
My stomach dropped.
Because nobody had entered the house.
Nobody except—
I turned.
And saw Emmett looking at the empty table.
His expression changed.
Not surprise.
Recognition.
"Who took it?""
I whispered.
Emmett slowly looked toward the back door.
May you like
And said:
"The person who was here before the shooting started.""
