Chapter 8 — The Night Mason Disappeared
Chapter 8 — The Night Mason Disappeared
The gunshot shattered the silence.
My mother screamed.
I pulled her to the floor.
Richard disappeared through the side door before I could stop him.
“Stay down!”
Another shot cracked through the night.
Then everything went quiet.
For several seconds, none of us moved.
I could hear my own breathing.
Then Teresa whispered:
“Connor…”
“I’m here.”
“Richard.”
“I know.”
“He knows where Amy is.”
I stood.
“Then we're going to find him.”
My phone vibrated.
A message appeared.
Come to the old Bradley construction site.
A second message followed.
Bring the will.
Then:
Come alone.
I stared at the screen.
This was exactly what Patricia had demanded.
But there was one difference.
The sender wasn't Patricia.
It was Mason.
My cousin.
The man who had been carrying the deed at Frederick's birthday party.
I called him.
No answer.
Again.
Nothing.
Then the phone rang.
I answered.
A man's breathing filled the line.
“Mason?”
Silence.
“Mason, where are you?”
A whisper came through.
“Connor…”
I stood.
“Where are you?”
“I made a mistake.”
“What mistake?”
“I thought I could fix it.”
My blood ran cold.
“Fix what?”
“My mother's mistake.”
“Your mother?”
Teresa suddenly looked at me.
Mason's voice trembled.
“She told me to take the deed.”
“Why?”
“She said it would protect us.”
“Protect you from what?”
A pause.
Then:
“Patricia.”
The call ended.
I immediately called him back.
The phone was switched off.
We drove to the construction site.
It was the same place my father had started his first major company.
The building had been abandoned for years.
Broken windows.
Rusting cranes.
Empty offices.
The place felt like a grave.
Samuel met us outside.
“You shouldn't be here.”
“I received a message from Mason.”
His expression changed.
“Where is he?”
“I don't know.”
He showed me his phone.
“We lost contact with him forty minutes ago.”
“Then we search.”
We entered the building.
The first floor was empty.
Second floor.
Nothing.
Third.
Still nothing.
Then we found blood.
A small drop on the concrete.
Then another.
Samuel crouched.
“Fresh.”
I felt my stomach tighten.
“Mason.”
We followed the trail.
It led toward the old elevator.
The doors were open.
Inside was a broken phone.
Mason's.
I picked it up.
The screen was cracked.
There was one unfinished message.
Connor, if I disappear, ask Teresa about—
The sentence ended there.
I looked at my mother.
She was crying.
“About what?”
“I don't know.”
“You knew something.”
“I swear I don't.”
“Mom.”
“I don't.”
Samuel picked up the phone.
“There's a deleted recording.”
“Can you recover it?”
“Maybe.”
He connected the phone to his laptop.
We waited.
After several minutes, a file appeared.
Mason's voice.
Terrified.
“I'm sorry, Connor.”
A pause.
“I should have told you.”
His breathing became heavier.
“Your mother didn't send me for the deed.”
I stared.
“She sent me to find the original will.”
The recording ended.
My mother covered her face.
I turned toward her.
“You lied again.”
She shook her head.
“No.”
“You sent Mason after the will.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because I thought I could destroy it.”
“Why?”
“Because Patricia said if you found it, you'd die.”
I stared at her.
“You were willing to destroy Dad's final wishes to protect me.”
“Yes.”
“Even if it meant destroying my inheritance?”
“Yes.”
I didn't know whether to hate her or forgive her.
Then Samuel interrupted.
“Connor.”
“What?”
He pointed at the elevator shaft.
“There's something down there.”
We climbed into the basement.
The air smelled damp.
There were old construction materials everywhere.
Then we saw a chair.
Mason had been tied to it.
But he was gone.
On the chair was a note.
Too late.
I picked it up.
Underneath was another message.
He told us everything.
Samuel looked around.
“Who?”
A voice came from the darkness.
“Mason.”
We turned.
A man stepped forward.
Not Richard.
Not Patricia.
Not Evelyn.
A police officer.
Detective Harris.
I recognized him.
He had been assigned to my father's death twenty years ago.
I stared.
“You.”
He looked at me.
“I tried to warn your father.”
“You were investigating his death.”
“Yes.”
“Then why was the case closed?”
“Because I was ordered to close it.”
“By whom?”
He looked at Teresa.
She lowered her eyes.
“Your mother.”
I turned toward her.
“Mom?”
Teresa whispered:
“I had no choice.”
Detective Harris continued.
“Your mother came to me the night your father died.”
“What did she say?”
“She said she had witnessed nothing.”
My mother started crying.
“She lied.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because she was afraid of Richard.”
I frowned.
“Richard?”
Harris nodded.
“He was already inside the police department.”
My stomach dropped.
“He had people everywhere.”
“So Mason…”
“He was trying to expose them.”
“Where is he?”
Harris looked away.
“I don't know.”
“You're lying.”
“No.”
He took a breath.
“Patricia took him.”
I felt anger explode.
“Where?”
“She's taking him to Evelyn.”
“Why?”
“Because Mason found something.”
“What?”
Harris handed me a photograph.
It showed Mason standing in front of an old safe.
The safe was inside my father's office.
I recognized it.
I had seen it once as a child.
Behind the safe was a hidden room.
Harris said:
“Your father hid the original will there.”
I stared.
“Then why didn't Patricia find it?”
“Because Mason did.”
“Where is it?”
Harris looked at me.
“He gave it to someone.”
“Who?”
He hesitated.
“Your wife.”
My heart stopped.
“Amy has the original will?”
“Yes.”
“Then why is Patricia after her?”
“Because the will contains a second document.”
“What document?”
Harris looked at Teresa.
She closed her eyes.
“The confession,” she whispered.
I stared at her.
“What confession?”
“My father's confession.”
“To what?”
She looked at me.
“To everything.”
We found the hidden room three hours later.
The entrance was behind a wall panel in my father's old office.
The room was untouched.
Dust covered everything.
But the safe was open.
Inside were empty folders.
Someone had taken the documents.
Only one piece of paper remained.
A handwritten list.
Names.
Dates.
Payments.
At the bottom:
Mason Bradley — recruited.
I stared.
“Mason was working for Patricia.”
Harris shook his head.
“No.”
“He was listed here.”
“He was an informant.”
“For my father?”
“Yes.”
I looked at the date.
Twenty years ago.
Mason had been a child.
He couldn't have been an informant.
Harris pointed to the last entry.
The date was recent.
Mason Bradley — reactivated.
I felt sick.
“Who reactivated him?”
Harris said:
“Teresa.”
My mother looked at me.
“I was trying to find the will.”
“You used Mason.”
“Yes.”
“And he disappeared because of you.”
Tears ran down her face.
“I didn't know.”
I turned away.
For years, every answer led back to my mother.
But every time I thought I understood her, another secret appeared.
Then my phone rang.
Unknown number.
I answered.
Mason's voice came through.
“Connor.”
“Mason?”
“I'm alive.”
“Where are you?”
“I don't know.”
“What happened?”
“They took me.”
“Who?”
“Patricia.”
“Where is Amy?”
Silence.
Then:
“She was with me.”
My heart stopped.
“What?”
“They brought us to the same place.”
“Where?”
“I don't know.”
“What happened to her?”
“I saw them take her upstairs.”
“Is she alive?”
“Yes.”
I exhaled.
“Thank God.”
Then Mason whispered:
“But Connor…”
“What?”
“Amy isn't the only person they have.”
My blood went cold.
“Who else?”
He hesitated.
“Your mother.”
I turned.
Teresa was standing beside me.
Alive.
Safe.
I looked back at the phone.
“What are you talking about?”
Mason's voice broke.
“The woman you're talking to isn't Teresa.”
Silence.
I looked at the woman beside me.
She stared back.
“Mason, what are you saying?”
“The real Teresa was taken hours ago.”
My heart stopped.
The woman beside me smiled.
Then she slowly removed a small piece of skin-colored material from her cheek.
A disguise.
I stepped backward.
The face underneath wasn't my mother's.
It was Patricia.
She smiled.
“Hello, Connor.”
I couldn't move.
“You…”
She raised a gun.
“Your mother was never the woman you needed to fear.”
She smiled.
“She was only the woman I needed you to trust.”
My phone fell from my hand.
Mason screamed through the speaker.
“Connor, run!”
The lights went out.
May you like
And Patricia whispered:
“Too late.”
