Chapter 16 - KATHRYN’S LAST SECRET
The attic smelled of dust and cedar.
Michael had stored Kathryn’s belongings there for nineteen years.
Willow remembered some of the boxes.
Christmas decorations.
Old dresses.
Photo albums.
A sewing machine.
Michael moved slowly between them.
“Kathryn never mentioned documents.”
“She might have been protecting you too.”
Willow searched until after two in the morning.
Nothing.
At 2:17, she found Kathryn’s old art supply trunk.
Willow smiled through exhaustion.
Kathryn had painted badly.
Joyfully.
She used to let eight-year-old Willow mix colors on newspapers across the kitchen floor.
Inside were dried brushes.
Paint tubes.
Sketchbooks.
Then Willow noticed the false bottom.
Michael stared.
“I never knew that was there.”
Willow lifted the panel.
Beneath it sat a weatherproof envelope.
K.D.D.
Her hands trembled.
Inside were copies of everything from Box 417.
But also something new.
A photograph.
Evelyn standing beside a motel sign in Indiana.
Dated three weeks after she supposedly disappeared.
Willow stopped breathing.
“She was alive.”
Michael took the picture.
His hands shook.
On the back was handwriting.
Kathryn.
Ev is safe for now.
Do not tell Michael.
Willow looked at her father.
Kathryn had hidden the truth from him.
Michael sat heavily on an old chair.
“She knew.”
Willow found another envelope.
Inside were letters.
Evelyn had written to Kathryn for almost a year after disappearing.
She had fled Chicago.
First Indiana.
Then Kentucky.
Then Tennessee.
She feared Richard was searching for her.
The final letter was dated May 1998.
Kathryn.
I found someone who can help me disappear permanently.
I hate leaving Willow.
Tell her one day that I loved her enough to become a ghost.
Do not let Richard find me.
Willow cried silently.
Michael read over her shoulder.
“There’s no return address.”
Helena, connected by video call, asked.
“Anything else?”
Willow unfolded the final page.
One line at the bottom.
If Willow ever needs me, find Reverend Samuel Cole in Ashland.
Helena began typing immediately.
“Ashland where?”
Michael said.
“Kentucky.”
Search results appeared.
Samuel Cole.
Former minister.
Died 2018.
But his church still existed.
Helena called the number.
No answer.
It was nearly three in the morning.
Then she found an archived obituary.
Reverend Cole was survived by his daughter.
Rebecca Cole.
Willow stared at the name.
A photograph accompanied the article.
Rebecca stood beside the reverend.
Beside her stood another woman.
Older.
Auburn-haired.
Familiar eyes.
Willow whispered.
“That’s her.”
Evelyn Mercer.
Alive.
Or at least alive eight years earlier.
Michael covered his mouth.
Willow looked at the clock.
Court in six hours.
Nathaniel trapped in Hartwell.
Richard attacking everything.
And somewhere in Kentucky might be the one witness who could end the entire Sterling empire.
Willow picked up her phone.
“We’re going to court first.”
Michael nodded.
“And after?”
May you like
Willow looked at Evelyn’s photograph.
“After court, I’m going to find my mother.”
