PART 3 — THE SECRET LAURA BURIED
Laura Walker lived twenty minutes from campus in a modest yellow house with a white porch and a maple tree that had grown too large for the front yard.
Ethan arrived just before six.
His shoulder had been examined at the campus clinic. No fracture. A deep bruise and strained muscle.
His mother opened the door before he knocked.
She was sixty now, though people often guessed younger. Her dark hair had silver at the temples, and she possessed the calm, intelligent face of someone who had spent much of her life hiding storms from other people.
She saw the bruise.
“What happened?”
“Brandon.”
Laura’s expression sharpened.
“What did he do?”
“He pushed me over.”
Her hand covered her mouth.
“Ethan.”
“I’m okay.”
“I told the dean this would happen.”
“You called the dean?”
“Last month.”
Ethan stared.
“You never told me.”
“Because you asked me not to interfere.”
“So you interfered secretly?”
“Yes.”
Despite everything, Ethan almost smiled.
That was his mother.
Then he remembered the photograph.
He rolled into the living room.
“I met someone today.”
Laura followed.
“Who?”
Ethan placed the photograph on the coffee table.
Laura stopped walking.
For several seconds, she seemed unable to breathe.
Then she sat down.
“Where did you get that?”
“Jack Mercer.”
The name changed her.
Not dramatically.
Laura did not scream or cry.
Instead, the years seemed to collapse inside her face.
She touched the photograph with one trembling finger.
“He came back.”
“That’s what he said.”
“He spoke to you?”
“He stopped Brandon.”
Laura closed her eyes.
Ethan waited.
Finally, he asked, “Who is he?”
She looked toward the window.
“Someone I loved.”
“Loved?”
“A long time ago.”
“How long?”
“Twenty-two years.”
Ethan did the arithmetic immediately.
Laura saw him do it.
“No,” she said.
Ethan froze.
“No what?”
“No, Jack is not your father.”
The answer came before he asked.
That frightened him more than if she had hesitated.
“My father was Michael Walker.”
“Yes.”
“He died when I was seven.”
“Yes.”
“Then why did Jack ask how old I was?”
Laura looked at him.
“Because there are things he doesn’t know.”
“Then tell me.”
She stood.
“I need coffee.”
“Mom.”
“Please.”
He watched her walk into the kitchen.
Her hands shook while filling the kettle.
Ethan had seen his mother survive his father’s death.
He had seen her sit beside him through surgeries after his accident.
He had seen her fight insurance companies, doctors, and bureaucrats.
He had never seen her frightened by a photograph.
“Jack and I were engaged,” she said.
Ethan stared.
“What?”
“We met when I was twenty-four. He worked for the county sheriff’s department. I was teaching elementary school.”
“What happened?”
“He disappeared.”
“Disappeared?”
“He was assigned to investigate something involving the Cole family.”
Ethan felt the room narrow.
“Brandon’s family?”
“His father. Charles.”
Laura sat down.
“Charles Cole wasn’t always a wealthy donor with buildings named after him. In the late nineties, he owned construction companies. There were accusations of fraud, bribery, forged inspections.”
“Jack investigated him?”
“Yes.”
“And then?”
“The case collapsed.”
“Why?”
Laura looked at the table.
“Evidence disappeared.”
Ethan waited.
“Jack was accused of stealing it.”
He frowned.
“The police officer today knew him.”
“Daniel Ruiz worked with Jack.”
“Was Jack guilty?”
“No.”
“You sound certain.”
“I was there when he came home the night before he vanished.”
Laura’s voice weakened.
“He was terrified.”
Ethan had difficulty imagining Jack Mercer terrified.
“He said someone inside the department was helping Charles. He said the investigation had become dangerous. The next morning, Jack was gone. Within a week, newspapers reported that he had fled after stealing evidence.”
“Did you believe it?”
“Never.”
“Then why didn’t you look for him?”
“I did.”
“What happened?”
Laura stared at Ethan.
“Michael found me.”
His father’s name changed the temperature of the room.
“Dad?”
“Michael was a young attorney then. He helped me when nobody else would. He challenged the allegations against Jack. He searched for records. Eventually…”
She stopped.
“What?”
“He told me Jack was dead.”
Ethan stared.
“He said a body had been found?”
“No. He said he received information from a federal contact.”
“And you believed him.”
“I wanted not to.”
Laura’s eyes filled with tears.
“But eventually I had to live.”
She looked at Ethan.
“Michael was kind to me. Patient. He knew I loved someone else before him. He never resented it.”
Ethan thought of the father he remembered.
Michael Walker making pancakes on Saturdays.
Michael pushing Ethan on a swing.
Michael dancing badly in the kitchen.
He had died in a highway accident fourteen years earlier.
“So Jack was framed.”
Laura nodded slowly.
“That’s what I always believed.”
“By Charles Cole.”
“Maybe.”
Ethan looked toward the photograph.
“And now he’s back.”
“Yes.”
At that exact moment, someone knocked.
Laura went completely still.
Three slow knocks.
Ethan looked toward the door.
“Expecting someone?”
“No.”
The knock came again.
Laura stood.
Ethan followed.
She opened the door.
Jack Mercer stood on the porch.
But he was not alone.
Beside him was Officer Daniel Ruiz.
And Daniel was holding a thick sealed envelope.
Laura whispered, “Jack.”
Jack looked at her for several seconds.
Then he said, “We need to talk about Michael.”
