Mom what it meant.
For a long time, she refused to tell me.
Then finally:
“Richard called me that morning.”
I stared at her.
“He threatened you?”
“No.”
She swallowed.
“He told me something about your father.”
“What?”
Mom suddenly looked twenty years older.
“He said your father knew Richard was alive.”
I laughed.
“That’s impossible.”
Harold didn’t.
I turned toward him.
He looked devastated.
“Harold?”
He whispered, “Your father helped him disappear.”
The room died.
Dad had not simply protected Richard from prosecution.
He had helped fake Richard Vale’s death.
My father—the man I remembered as almost painfully honorable—had committed fraud to help a thief vanish.
“Why?”
Mom broke down.
“Because Richard threatened to tell you the truth.”
“What truth?”
She shook her head.
“Mom.”
“I couldn’t lose you.”
“Lose me?”
My voice cracked.
“What are you talking about?”
Harold closed his eyes.
Then Mom said it.
The final:
