We returned to the Blackwood estate before dawn.
Nobody spoke during the drive.
Margaret sat beside me.
She kept touching her throat.
The necklace was gone.
She had removed it hours earlier and left it on the dining table.
Now it was missing.
The lead agent noticed immediately.
“Who had access to the house?”
Ethan answered.
“Everyone who works here.”
Daniel shook his head.
“Not everyone knew about the necklace.”
Margaret looked at me.
“I didn't know.”
“I believe you.”
She looked surprised.
“Why?”
“Because if you knew, you wouldn't have worn it for twenty years.”
She touched her bare neck.
Rebecca's words remained in my head.
You were told to forget.
I wondered what else Margaret had forgotten.
The agents searched the dining room.
Nothing.
The necklace had disappeared without a trace.
Daniel checked the security footage.
“There.”
He stopped the video.
A figure entered the house at 2:14 a.m.
Black clothing.
Gloves.
Face concealed.
The figure went directly to the dining table.
Picked up the necklace.
Then left.
Ethan leaned toward the screen.
“That's not Olivia.”
“How do you know?”
“Olivia wears a bracelet on her left wrist.”
Daniel paused the frame.
The intruder's wrist was bare.
Margaret stared at the screen.
“I know that walk.”
Everyone turned.
“Who?”
She looked frightened.
“My husband's brother.”
Ethan frowned.
“My uncle died.”
“That's what I was told.”
The room went silent.
Daniel searched the records.
“Name?”
“Richard Blackwood.”
Ethan's face went pale.
“He died in 2008.”
Margaret shook her head.
“I attended the funeral.”
Daniel looked at her.
“Was the body identified?”
She stared at him.
“No.”
The lead agent exhaled.
“That changes things.”
Ethan sat down.
“My father had one brother.”
“What did he do?”
Margaret's voice was barely audible.
“He managed the private facilities.”
I looked at her.
“Blackridge?”
She nodded.
“He disappeared after the investigation.”
“Did your husband know?”
“He knew everything.”
I felt sick.
“So Richard may still be alive.”
Daniel nodded.
“And he has the necklace.”
The lead agent looked toward the hallway.
“We need to find him before he destroys whatever is inside it.”
Ethan stood.
“There is one place.”
I looked at him.
“Where?”
“My father's old office.”
“Here?”
“Yes.”
We moved upstairs.
The old office had been sealed since his death.
Ethan unlocked it.
Dust covered the furniture.
Portraits lined the walls.
At the center stood a massive wooden desk.
Margaret stopped.
“I remember this room.”
“What happened here?”
She closed her eyes.
“Your father asked me to wear the necklace.”
I looked at her.
“When?”
“Twenty years ago.”
“What did he say?”
“That it would protect me.”
She touched her throat.
“He told me never to remove it.”
“Why?”
“I don't remember.”
Daniel examined the desk.
“Memory loss doesn't happen by accident.”
Margaret looked at him.
“What do you mean?”
“Trauma can distort memory.”
“Are you saying I was drugged?”
“No. I'm saying someone may have wanted you confused.”
Ethan looked at the desk.
“My father used this compartment.”
He pressed a hidden latch.
A drawer opened.
Inside was a small cassette player.
Beside it was a note.
Richard.
Ethan picked it up.
“It's addressed to my uncle.”
Daniel took the note.
“What does it say?”
Ethan read it.
“If you are reading this, you have chosen the wrong side.”
Margaret covered her mouth.
A second note lay beneath it.
For Claire.
My name again.
I picked it up.
Inside was a photograph.
My mother.
My father.
And a third person.
Richard Blackwood.
They stood together outside St. Agnes.
I looked at Margaret.
“Your brother-in-law knew my parents.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
She shook her head.
“I don't know.”
Daniel turned the photograph over.
There was a date.
October 14, 2006.
The same date as the first file.
He looked at me.
“This wasn't the beginning.”
“What was?”
He pointed to the photograph.
“Look at the background.”
Behind them was a vehicle.
An ambulance.
Its side carried a name.
Blackridge Medical Services.
I felt cold.
“My father wasn't taken to a random clinic.”
“No.”
“He was taken by the Blackridges.”
“Yes.”
Ethan stared at the photograph.
“My father arranged it.”
Margaret looked at him.
“Then your father didn't want Jonathan dead.”
“He wanted him alive.”
“Why?”
Ethan looked at me.
“To force him to tell them where the ledger was.”
I closed my eyes.
“And when he refused?”
Ethan's voice dropped.
“They made the accident look fatal.”
Daniel nodded.
“But Jonathan survived.”
“And recorded everything.”
“Exactly.”
We searched the office for nearly an hour.
Nothing.
Then Margaret stopped beside the portrait of Ethan's father.
She touched the frame.
“I remember something.”
“What?”
“He said the necklace wasn't the key.”
“What was?”
She turned the portrait over.
A small compartment opened behind it.
Inside was a photograph.
The same photograph.
But this copy had something written on the back.
The necklace contains only the access code.
I looked at Ethan.
“Then the recording isn't inside the necklace.”
“No.”
Daniel turned toward Margaret.
“Where is the necklace?”
She shook her head.
“Richard has it.”
“And the recording?”
“He needs the code.”
Daniel looked at the note.
“What does the code unlock?”
Ethan suddenly stepped backward.
“The archive.”
“What?”
“The original recording is stored in the archive.”
“But the archive was here.”
“No.”
He looked at me.
“My father had another archive.”
“Where?”
He hesitated.
“Under the Blackridge clinic.”
My stomach tightened.
The clinic had supposedly been abandoned years ago.
Daniel's phone rang.
He answered.
His expression changed.
“What?”
He listened.
Then looked at me.
“We found Richard.”
“Where?”
“At the clinic.”
“And the necklace?”
“He has it.”
“Is he alone?”
Daniel shook his head.
“No.”
“Who is with him?”
Daniel looked at Ethan.
“Olivia.”
I felt the room close around me.
Ethan whispered her name.
Then Daniel added,
“And someone else.”
“Who?”
Daniel looked at me.
“Dr. Marcus Hale.”
The man everyone believed had died fifteen years ago.
The man Rebecca said had treated my father.
The man whose name had appeared nowhere by accident.
I looked at the photograph of my parents.
Then at Ethan.
Then at the empty space around Margaret's neck.
Twenty years of lies had brought us back to the same place.
And this time, the people who had started everything were waiting.
Click here to continue reading: PART 9: Beneath the Abandoned Clinic, We Found the Recording My Father Died Protecting and the Man Who Had Spent Twenty Years Keeping It Buried
The Bruise My Husband Expected Me to Hide Became the First Clue That His Perfect Life Was Built on Lies
Part 8 of 10
