Chapter 10 - The Lie Grace Couldn’t Hide
When I returned home, I did not tell Grace what Eric had said.
I asked her one simple question.
“Were you in town the night Rebecca died?”
She stopped breathing for half a second.
That was enough.
“Yes.”
“You told me you were living in Seattle.”
“I was. I flew in.”
“Why?”
“Emily called me.”
“Did you go to Rebecca’s car?”
Grace’s eyes widened.
“Who told you that?”
“Answer me.”
She looked toward the stairs, where Noah was sleeping.
“Yes.”
The room seemed to tilt.
I stepped back from her.
“Eric saw you.”
“He saw us near the car. He didn’t see what happened.”
“Then tell me.”
Grace pressed both hands to the kitchen counter.
“Emily had discovered the brake line was damaged. She called me because she was scared to touch anything alone. We went to the car before Rebecca left the dinner.”
“You knew the brakes were cut?”
“Yes.”
“And you let my wife drive?”
“No!” Grace’s voice broke. “We fixed it.”
I stared at her.
“What?”
“Emily had worked on cars with our father. She replaced the damaged section with an emergency line. We tested the brakes. They were fine.”
“Then why did they fail?”
“Because somebody cut them again after we left.”
Silence swallowed the kitchen.
Grace continued. “Rebecca called us twenty minutes later. She said Charles had confronted her. She told Emily to go home and destroy the accounting copies.”
“And you?”
“I followed Rebecca’s car from a distance because I was scared.”
My hands curled into fists.
“You watched her crash.”
Tears slid down Grace’s face.
“I watched another car pull beside hers first.”
“What car?”
“A black Bentley.”
My father drove a black Bentley.
“Did you see who was inside?”
“No. But after the crash, the Bentley stopped. Someone got out.”
“Dad?”
Grace shook her head.
“No.”
She looked terrified all over again.
I sat down because I suddenly remembered the week after Rebecca's funeral. Grace had been there too, though I had not known her name then. A woman had stood across the street from the cemetery under a black umbrella. I remembered noticing her because she never came through the gates.
"That was you," I said.
Grace nodded.
"I wanted to tell you everything. Emily was already dead. Rebecca was dead. I had two names, half a voicemail, and no proof. Your father had police officers, lawyers, executives, even reporters eating out of his hand. I was twenty-seven and terrified."
"So you waited three years and applied to raise my son."
"I applied because Rebecca's former housekeeper told me Noah's nanny was leaving. I thought if I got close to the house, I might find what Emily had hidden."
"And did you?"
"Noah found me first."
Her voice cracked on his name.
"The first week, he woke up screaming for his mom. He wouldn't let me turn off the hall light. He asked if people disappear when you stop remembering their voice." She wiped her face. "After that, the investigation stopped being the reason I stayed."
I wanted to believe her. That was the worst part. Trust had become something dangerous in my house, a loaded weapon passed from hand to hand.
"If you lied to me about anything else," I said, "tell me now."
"There is one more thing."
My stomach tightened.
"The night Rebecca died, I took a picture of the person who got out of that Bentley. It was dark and blurry, and I convinced myself for years I couldn't be certain."
"Where is it?"
"On an encrypted drive in a bank box."
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"Who is in the picture?"
“It was Victoria.”
