I stared at the security image until my eyes burned.
My oldest son, Daniel, was standing on the porch of Walter’s cabin with a crowbar in his hand.
“No,” I whispered. “That can’t be Daniel.”
But I knew my own child.
I had given birth to him.
I had watched him take his first steps, driven him to college, stood beside him on his wedding day, and held his children when they were born.
It was Daniel.
“What was he doing there?” I asked.
The lawyer didn’t answer.
“ANSWER ME.”
“I don’t know, Eleanor.”
I grabbed my phone and called Daniel.
It rang once.
Twice.
Three times.
Then went to voicemail.
I called again.
Nothing.
My hands started shaking.
“Maybe Margaret sent him,” the lawyer said.
“Why would Daniel help Margaret?”
“That’s something we need to find out.”
I immediately called my daughter, Susan.
She answered on the second ring.
“Mom? Are you okay?”
“Where is Daniel?”
A pause.
“What do you mean?”
“Have you spoken to your brother today?”
“No. Not since the will reading.”
“Did he say where he was going?”
Another pause.
“Mom, what happened?”
I looked at the photograph again.
“Nothing. If he calls you, tell him I need to speak with him immediately.”
“Mom—”
I hung up.
The lawyer came around his desk.
“Eleanor, we should call the police.”
“And tell them what?”
“That someone broke into the cabin.”
“Someone? That’s my son.”
“That doesn’t change what happened.”
Maybe it should have.
But deep down, I knew he was right.
Still, I needed answers before strangers with badges started asking questions.
“I’m going there.”
“Walter specifically told you not to.”
“Walter also spent nearly seventy years keeping secrets from me. I think I’m finished following instructions from my husband.”
For the first time that afternoon, the lawyer almost smiled.
Then his expression became serious again.
“I’m coming with you.”
The cabin was ninety minutes away.
Walter had bought it when our children were teenagers.
At least, that was what he told me.
We spent summers there.
Christmases.
Family reunions.
Daniel learned to fish on the lake behind that cabin.
Susan had her first kiss somewhere near the old dock, although she still believed I didn’t know.
Our youngest son, Michael, once broke his arm falling from the enormous oak tree beside the driveway.
It had always been a place filled with memories.
Now I wondered how many of those memories had been built on top of secrets.
During the drive, I kept calling Daniel.
No answer.
Then, about twenty minutes from the cabin, my phone buzzed.
A text message.
From Daniel.
MOM, PLEASE DON’T GO TO THE CABIN.
My entire body went cold.
I immediately called him.
He declined the call.
Then another message appeared.
I CAN EXPLAIN EVERYTHING. JUST GO HOME.
I typed back.
WHERE ARE YOU?
Three dots appeared.
Then disappeared.
Then appeared again.
Finally:
I’M SORRY.
Nothing else.
I stared at those two words.
I’m sorry.
Sorry for what?
Breaking into the cabin?
Taking the box?
Or something worse?
The lawyer glanced at me.
“What did he say?”
I showed him.
His jaw tightened.
“Eleanor, maybe we should turn around.”
“No.”
“Your husband warned you.”
“And now my son is warning me. That’s exactly why I’m going.”
When we reached the long gravel road leading to the cabin, the sun was beginning to set.
Everything looked exactly as I remembered.
Tall pine trees.
The old wooden fence.
Walter’s crooked mailbox that he always promised to replace.
But something felt wrong.
The front door was open.
I got out before the lawyer could stop me.
“Daniel!” I shouted.
Nothing.
We walked inside.
The living room had been untouched.
Walter’s old fishing photographs still hung on the wall.
A blanket I had knitted twenty years earlier remained folded over the sofa.
But the study looked like a storm had passed through it.
Books were scattered everywhere.
Drawers had been emptied.
A painting had been ripped from the wall.
And directly behind Walter’s old desk, several floorboards had been torn up.
I walked toward the opening.
Empty.
The black metal box was gone.
Then I noticed something.
Blood.
Just a few drops on the wooden floor.
My heart stopped.
“Daniel?”
The lawyer crouched beside it.
“Don’t touch anything.”
I backed away.
That was when I heard a sound outside.
A car.
I rushed to the window.
A black sedan pulled into the driveway.
Margaret stepped out.
Walter’s sister.
She was seventy-nine years old, but she moved faster than I had seen her move in years.
She entered the cabin and froze when she saw me.
“Eleanor?”
“What are YOU doing here?”
Her eyes immediately moved toward the broken floor.
Then her face changed.
“Oh, God.”
That reaction told me something.
“You knew about the box.”
Margaret looked at the lawyer.
Then at me.
“Where is it?”
“You tell me.”
“I don’t have it.”
“Daniel does.”
Her face went completely white.
“What did you say?”
“My son was here.”
Margaret grabbed my arm.
“Eleanor, listen to me. If Daniel has that box, you need to find him immediately.”
I pulled away.
“Walter told me not to trust you.”
Pain flashed across her face.
“Of course he did.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means my brother died still blaming me for something I didn’t do.”
“For our father’s death?”
Margaret stared at me.
So she knew.
I stepped closer.
“Walter said you were with your father the night he died.”
“I was.”
“And he didn’t die from a heart attack.”
“No.”
The word came out almost as a whisper.
“Then how did he die?”
Margaret looked toward the window.
For several seconds, she said nothing.
Then she turned back to me.
“He fell down the basement stairs.”
I frowned.
“What?”
“He and Walter were arguing.”
Everything inside me seemed to stop.
“Walter?”
“Yes.”
“My Walter?”
Margaret nodded.
“Your husband was there that night.”
“That’s impossible.”
“It’s the truth.”
“No. Walter said YOU were with your father.”
“I was. But Walter was there too.”
I looked at the lawyer.
His expression told me this was new information to him as well.
Margaret continued.
“Father had discovered money missing from one of the family companies. Walter told you I stole it.”
“How do you know what Walter told me?”
“Because that was the story he told everyone.”
“Are you saying you didn’t take it?”
“I’m saying Walter never told you who actually did.”
My mouth went dry.
“Who?”
Margaret looked directly into my eyes.
“Our father.”
I almost laughed from confusion.
“That doesn’t make sense.”
“He was moving company money into private accounts. Walter discovered it and confronted him. They had a terrible argument that night.”
“And then?”
Margaret’s voice trembled.
“I heard shouting from downstairs. By the time I reached the basement, Father was lying at the bottom of the stairs.”
“Did Walter push him?”
“I don’t know.”
“But you were there.”
“I saw the aftermath. I didn’t see the fall.”
“Then why did everyone say heart attack?”
“Because Walter made it disappear.”
I stared at her.
“You expect me to believe my husband covered up his own father’s death?”
“I expect you to listen to the recording.”
“The recording Walter hid?”
“Yes.”
“Why would Walter hide evidence against himself?”
Margaret gave me a strange look.
“Because that recording wasn’t made by Walter.”
“Who made it?”
“Our father.”
The room became silent.
Margaret walked toward the broken floor.
“Father had become paranoid during his final months. He suspected someone was stealing from him, so he started secretly recording conversations in his study.”
My thoughts raced.
“Then the recording could prove what happened.”
“It could prove much more than that.”
Before I could ask what she meant, my phone rang.
Daniel.
I answered instantly.
“Daniel!”
“Mom.”
His voice was shaking.
“Where are you?”
“You shouldn’t have gone to the cabin.”
“Where is the box?”
Silence.
“Daniel, ANSWER ME.”
“I have it.”
Margaret closed her eyes.
“Bring it back,” I said.
“I can’t.”
“Why?”
“Because Grandpa didn’t tell you everything.”
I almost screamed.
“I KNOW THAT.”
“No, Mom. You don’t understand.”
“Then help me understand.”
Daniel started crying.
I had not heard my sixty-five-year-old son cry since he was a boy.
“Mom… Grandpa came to see me three weeks before he died.”
My knees weakened.
“What?”
“He told me about the cabin. He told me about the box.”
“Why would he tell you?”
“Because he wanted me to destroy it.”
I looked at the lawyer.
His face went blank.
Margaret whispered, “No.”
I tightened my grip on the phone.
“Walter’s letter told me to retrieve that box.”
“I know.”
“Then why would he tell YOU to destroy it?”
“That’s what I couldn’t understand.”
“Where are you now?”
Daniel ignored the question.
“Grandpa gave me a key and told me that after the will reading, Aunt Margaret would probably come looking for the recording. He said I had to get there first.”
I looked at Margaret.
She shook her head slowly.
“He lied to both of us,” she whispered.
“Daniel,” I said, “there was blood on the floor.”
Silence.
“Are you hurt?”
“It’s just my hand. I cut it pulling up the boards.”
I closed my eyes in relief.
“Come back.”
“I can’t.”
“Daniel, please.”
Then he said something that made every person in that cabin freeze.
“Mom, I listened to the recording.”
My heart began pounding.
“You opened the box?”
“Yes.”
“What did you hear?”
Daniel started breathing heavily.
“Grandpa was arguing with Great-Grandpa.”
“And?”
“There was another person in the room.”
Margaret stepped closer to the phone.
“Who?”
Daniel didn’t answer.
“Daniel,” I said, “who was it?”
When he finally spoke, his voice was barely audible.
“You.”
I felt the room tilt.
“What?”
“Your voice is on the recording, Mom.”
“That’s impossible.”
“It’s you.”
“No. I wasn’t there.”
“I know your voice.”
“Daniel, forty-seven years ago I was HOME WITH YOU.”
“I remember.”
“Then it can’t be me.”
“I thought the same thing.”
I pressed a hand against my chest.
“What did the woman say?”
Daniel went silent.
Then he whispered:
“She told Grandpa’s father that if he told Walter the truth, our entire family would be destroyed.”
My breathing stopped.
“What truth?”
“I don’t know. The recording cuts out.”
Margaret suddenly grabbed the back of a chair.
Her face had turned gray.
I noticed.
“Margaret?”
She wouldn’t look at me.
“Margaret, what do you know?”
Nothing.
I walked toward her.
“LOOK AT ME.”
She slowly raised her eyes.
There was terror in them.
Not guilt.
Terror.
“Eleanor,” she whispered, “there’s something Walter never knew.”
“What?”
“That woman wasn’t you.”
My heart slammed against my chest.
“Then who was she?”
Margaret’s lips trembled.
Before she could answer, headlights swept across the cabin windows.
Another car had entered the driveway.
Margaret looked outside.
The moment she saw it, she stumbled backward.
“Oh, God.”
“What?”
She grabbed my wrist.
“We need to leave.”
“Who is that?”
“Eleanor, NOW.”
A car door slammed outside.
Then another.
Slow footsteps approached the porch.
I pulled my arm away.
“Margaret, WHO IS OUT THERE?”
She stared at me with tears in her eyes.
Then she whispered five words I never expected to hear.
“Your sister is still alive.”
I couldn’t move.
“My sister died when I was nineteen.”
Margaret shook her head.
“No, Eleanor.”
The front-door handle slowly began to turn.
“She didn’t.”
And as the door opened, I found myself staring at the face of a woman who looked so much like me that for one terrifying second…
I thought I was looking into a mirror.
TO BE CONTINUED………………….
:PART 4 — THE WOMAN WHO HAD MY FACE
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