Chapter 8 - Judith’s Second Lie
I recorded the rest of the call.
Judith told me Thomas had planned to leave town with her.
She had agreed.
They would take baby Daniel.
Thomas believed Richard would eventually understand.
Judith packed a suitcase.
Then she changed her mind.
“Why?” I asked.
“Richard offered stability.”
“That’s your answer?”
“I was twenty-four.”
“You were old enough to know what you were doing.”
“I loved them both.”
“No.”
I looked through Laura’s window at Maisie sleeping on the couch.
“You loved being protected.”
Judith began crying.
I felt nothing.
“What did you do?”
“I told Arthur where Thomas was going.”
My stomach turned.
“Why?”
“I thought Arthur would convince him to leave us alone.”
“You gave Thomas’s location to the man threatening him.”
“I didn’t know what Arthur would do.”
“What did he do?”
“I never found out.”
“That’s a lie.”
“Claire.”
“Tell me.”
Her breathing grew uneven.
“Arthur came back that night with blood on his shirt.”
I froze.
“How much?”
“Not much.”
“Did you ask where Thomas was?”
“Yes.”
“What did he say?”
Judith began sobbing.
“He said Thomas wouldn’t bother us again.”
For forty years, Judith had carried that sentence.
She had married Richard.
Raised Thomas’s son as a Mercer.
Enjoyed the fortune built partly from Thomas’s work.
And never told anyone.
“Did Richard know?”
“Not then.”
“Later?”
“Yes.”
“When?”
“1991.”
The same year Richard found the compartment.
Everything connected.
Arthur had likely threatened Thomas.
Richard found the proof.
Judith finally confessed what she had told Arthur.
And together, they chose silence.
“You both buried him,” I said.
“We didn’t know he was alive.”
“You knew enough to investigate.”
She said nothing.
“You chose the company.”
“I chose Daniel.”
“You chose yourself.”
I ended the call.
When Daniel came to pick me up for the airport, I played him the recording.
He listened without moving.
At the end, he stared through the windshield.
“My whole childhood was built on this.”
“I’m sorry.”
“She used to tell me family loyalty mattered more than anything.”
He laughed quietly.
“Now I understand why.”
We flew to Oregon.
The address from Richard’s box belonged to a small cabin outside Bend.
It was still standing.
An elderly woman answered the door.
When Daniel showed her Thomas’s photograph, her hand flew to her mouth.
“Tom.”
Daniel swallowed.
“You knew him?”
“Knew him?”
She stared at Daniel’s face.
“You look exactly like him.”
Daniel’s voice cracked.
“Is he alive?”
The woman’s expression changed.
“No.”
Daniel lowered his head.
Then she added.
“But his son is.”
Daniel looked up.
“I’m his son.”
The woman shook her head.
May you like
“No.”
“I mean his other son.”
