The Last Night (The Last Series Book 2)

by Harvey Church

  “The domestic abuse,” Klein said, his voice so level that it was difficult to determine whether he believed it or was more interested in observing Ethan’s reaction—would he lose his patience, burst out in rage, confess that he’d had some kind of blow up with Raleigh?

  But Ethan stayed calm. “Is that what you’ve been doing this entire time? Digging up crap that just didn’t happen?”

  Klein spread his hands open on the desk, as if asking what else he thought he might be doing.

  “You’ll want to look into those claims, Agent Klein.” Ethan gave a nod and tried not to clench his jaw. “As far as I’m concerned, those falsified reports—which have been confirmed as falsified, by the way, I even have a signed letter of apology from the 19th District’s Commander—only do one thing: they add substance to the theories about what happened that night. A carefully orchestrated kidnapping.”

  If Klein agreed or disagreed, he didn’t allow his beliefs to surface. “And the birthday card?”

  What birthday card? Ethan didn’t know anything about a birthday card. Was this just more trash, like the falsified abuse and the disbelief that an ambulance had even existed in the first place?

  Raising an eyebrow, Klein leaned forward on his desk. “You didn’t know about the birthday card your mother-in-law received six months after Raleigh was kidnapped, did you?” The room began to spin.

  “No.” Ethan had nothing to hide, and the look of utter shock on his face was one of them. “I didn’t know about that.” He gulped back the lump in his throat, curious about whether this birthday card development was new or seven years old, like everything else the federal agent had brought out today.

  Why didn’t Mary ever mention a birthday card?

  “I promised you that’d I’d look into this, Ethan. And that involved a chat with Raleigh’s mother.” He scratched his head. “Turns out I have a few friends who work at that high-end, luxury retirement home in Winnetka where she’s been abandoned.”

  “She’s got a trust fund,” Ethan said, half-mumbling. Regardless of how expensive her “high-end, luxurious” full-time care at the retirement home could be, he knew the fees weren’t even scraping the surface of the earnings in that trust fund. She was well attended to, which was why he hadn’t thought much about Raleigh’s mother since the last time he saw her. Plus, the last he’d heard—had to be five years, at least—the dementia left her alternating between rants fueled by rage and bouts of such absolute silence that she seemed comatose. She wouldn’t recognize her only child, let alone the son-in-law she’d asked to never come see her. “It’s managed by the law firm where her husband worked.” Ethan blinked hard as a new thought came to him, his heart accelerating all of a sudden. “Has Raleigh, uh, visited her in the past seven years, Agent Klein?”

  The federal agent raised both of his eyebrows. “No, of course not.”

  “And this birthday card, you said it was sent six months after Raleigh’s abduction—”

  “Disappearance,” Klein corrected him.

  “Yes.” Ethan nodded, agreeing to whatever it would take to learn more about this birthday card development. “Can I, uh, see the card? See what’s written inside it?”

  Shaking his head, Klein watched for the reaction that Ethan refused to offer beyond the shock and surprise currently on his face.

  “Then how do you know about the date it was sent?” Because if it had been Raleigh’s mother who had said it arrived after the abduction, Klein didn’t exactly have a reliable witness, did he? The woman’s mind was a mess.

  “Date stamp on the envelope.”

  Ethan felt sick to his stomach.

  A date stamp sure changed things. No matter how hard Ethan tried, he couldn’t hide the sensation of just taking a sucker-punch to the gut. A birthday card he’d known nothing about. He sat back in the chair, shaking his head and trying to remember the last time he’d seen Raleigh’s mother, the day they said their farewells.

  “There’s a photo in her room,” Klein said, his eyes as attentive as a wolf’s hunting its prey. “Wedding photo of you and Raleigh. You’re outside, both of you laughing pretty hard.”

  Ethan was familiar with the photo. “Mary’s yard. One of the bridesmaid’s leaned against a tree to adjust the buckle on her shoe, and when she pulled away, there was a brown mark on her butt.” He didn’t smile at the memory, but he was pleased to hear that Mary, Raleigh’s mother, still had that photo. “The resulting look in some of those bridesmaids photos wasn’t very, well, complimentary. We’d had a good laugh at the time, though.” But, Raleigh, she’d been incensed over Jenny ruining the expensive photography.

  Klein nodded, still watching. “She says she talks to her daughter regularly.”

  “And what do your friends at the retirement home say?” Mary probably thought she spoke with the Easter Bunny while waiting on hold for Raleigh. Let’s be realistic.

  “Nobody has called or come to visit her in over five years.” Klein sighed, blinking for the first time since he started down this path. “They say you were her last relative visitor.”

  “Sounds about right.” Ethan had walked out of there with a check from her dead husband’s law firm, and a difficult decision to make.

  “Uh huh.” Klein gave a firm nod. “You want to know what was written in that birthday card?”

  Ethan nodded, hungry to know what Raleigh’s words had been, six months after she was plucked out of his life.

  Klein reached into the same drawer from which he’d taken the file folder with the random photographs in it, but he stopped short. “How about you start by telling me about that last visit with your mother-in-law?”

  Chapter Twenty

  If the way Klein’s stare bore into him was any indication, the federal agent was expecting to hear a story about hate and revenge, or maybe even love and tears. But the last time Ethan had visited Raleigh’s mother was nothing at all like that.

  “The last time I visited my mother-in-law, I left with a check and a promise.”

  Klein grunted for him to continue.

  “That morning, a male paralegal from her late husband’s law firm showed up at my office. He offered me the check in exchange for signing a document—a promise. It had to be a dozen pages thick.” Ethan licked his lips, remembering the shock he’d felt at receiving such a sum of money in exchange for what had seemed to be some stupid, silly promise. Except it hadn’t been silly or stupid.

  “She wanted you to walk away from her family, didn’t she? Not just stop looking for Raleigh, but to stop visiting her, too?”

  Ethan felt his cheeks flush. It sounded awful, the way Klein said those words. Like maybe Raleigh had wanted to get away from him. And since Klein had heard all about those false reports of spousal abuse, his opinion of Ethan Vernon was likely becoming an ugly one. Even to Ethan’s own logic, Raleigh was probably trying to get away from something bad.

  “But it wasn’t what you’re thinking,” Ethan said. “By then, Mary’s mental state had already begun to deteriorate. It was going downhill, fast. I’d been a witness to it, I’d had to help the staff at the home restrain her. I’d also helped to disarm her once, and stopped her from hurting herself a few times.” It had been awful, watching the last shred of Raleigh crumble, fall apart. As wicked as Mary had been to Raleigh and Ethan during their marriage, she was ill. Ethan understood that. He also knew that if Raleigh ever returned to Chicago, she’d likely visit her mother first. And he’d planned on being there to welcome her back.

  “Yet, she didn’t want you around?” Klein seemed a little confused.

  “I’m still not entirely sure what her true motives were, but before I signed that document, I took it and the check to her at the retirement home. It was one of her good days, which was odd because it was also one of the most miserable days of the summer. It was raining, colder than it should have been, and she’d been stuck indoors for three or four straight days. But there she was, all smiles and great conversation.”

 
Klein said nothing.

  “Who even knows what we were talking about,” Ethan went on, grinning sadly because it had been the last conversation he’d had with her. “But then, out of nowhere, she asked me if anyone from the firm had stopped by. She’d never asked that before, yet the way that woman operated, she made it sound like it was just part of our conversational routine.”

  “What did you tell her?”

  “I confirmed that someone had.”

  The old woman’s smile remained, but something behind her eyes collapsed, another support beam of her sanity. She’d hidden her demons and heartbreak behind that overly diplomatic smile, but Ethan had known better.

  “She asked me how I felt about it, and so I asked her why. Why pay me to get out of her life when all I wanted was to help her and be around for when her daughter came back?”

  Raleigh’s mother hadn’t even flinched at the question, Ethan remembered. She’d nodded, as if she were a guest on late-night television and, staring back with the firmness and resolve of a national-level politician, explained that she’d always used money as a way to control people.

  “She said that she knew how Raleigh and I had struggled. The student debt, the second mortgage, the car loan, all of it. And so she’d held the money back as a way for us to bond, to climb out of our financial mess together. She’d always talked about her early years with Raleigh’s father, how they’d saved for their first home, how they became closer as a result of all of their sacrifice. She wanted the same for us, felt we weren’t bonding the way a married couple should. I’d always thought she hated me, but she said that wasn’t the case.”

  Klein raised an eyebrow. “A character-building exercise, huh?”

  “Something like that, I guess. But she also knew she was losing her marbles, Agent Klein. And with Raleigh being kidnapped—call it whatever you want, but she and I saw eye-to-eye on that; her daughter, my wife, was kidnapped—all of her effort was for nothing. And she’d be left with a huge estate tax if she didn’t start disbursing some of the money to the people she loved.”

  “She wanted to see you enjoy the inheritance while she was alive, while she could see the good it could provide,” Klein said, as if he was following along.

  Ethan shook his head, because Klein wasn’t following at all. “For me to take that check, I had to sign the agreement, remember? I had to agree to let go of my hopes of ever seeing Raleigh again.”

  “That’s odd, isn’t it?”

  “I thought so, too. At the time, anyway. Because that also meant never seeing my mother-in-law again.”

  Klein seemed to be thinking about it. “Either she didn’t care how you spent the money, or she wanted you gone. Which was it?”

  Grinning, Ethan admitted that he thought she wanted him gone. At first, anyway. “We were never best friends, so that made sense. Pay me to get lost, right? So, I took the money. I signed the contract. We hugged, shed a tear, and said our goodbyes. I even deposited the money into a joint bank account that I had with Raleigh, because half of that money was hers. But I didn’t spend it. Not a dime. It sat in a checking account for all that time, it’s still there. I even went to the trouble of opening a separate account in my name only, had all of my automatic payments switched over so I couldn’t dip into the inheritance by accident.” It had been a nightmare.

  “Why?”

  “Because Mary was right about the struggling. And the money wasn’t mine, it never was. It was to help both of us, Raleigh and me, and I was convinced—just like I am now—that I’d get my wife back. So it sat in that account for years, earning a few hundred bucks a year in interest. And then, finally this year, I dipped into it.” Ethan shrugged. “I’d given up on Raleigh. I’d repaid the debt. I hated my job. So I upgraded the house. Got a new car. A new phone. New television. Like Raleigh’s mom with her expensive rent and full-time care at that retirement home, I still haven’t even scratched the surface.”

  Frowning, Klein shook his head. “Any theories as to why she didn’t want to see you again?”

  Ethan opened his eyes wide and let out an innocent chuckle. “You saw the photo in her room, right?”

  Klein nodded.

  “Just as she reminded me of a wife that wasn’t coming home anytime soon, I reminded her of a daughter who wasn’t stopping by to hold her hand tell her everything was going to be okay. She was losing her mind and, for a woman like my mother-in-law, having her son-in-law, her only remaining family see her in a state like that, well, let’s just say I may as well be the one bathing her. It was taboo in her world. She didn’t want me remembering her as the insane woman who didn’t share her gazillions while her daughter and I struggled to feed ourselves.”

  “So how much have you spent, Ethan?”

  “The money is still there. When Raleigh shows up, whatever I’ve spent will be replaced with the investments I have. It’s all waiting for her,” Ethan said with a confirming nod that didn’t seem to convince Klein. Ethan wasn’t sure if the federal agent didn’t believe that the money was still there, or that Raleigh would come back at all.

  “You can prove that? With bank statements?”

  Ethan shot him another confirming nod. “For the past four years, I sure can.” He motioned to the drawer, hungry once again to get things back on track. “Now, how about that birthday card, Agent Klein?”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Seeing the birthday card that Ethan’s mother-in-law had received from Raleigh, six long months after she’d been taken away in a mysterious ambulance, had a horrible impact on him. Reading the words that his wife had scribbled inside the card broke his heart on too many levels to count, and it suddenly made him grateful that he hadn’t received one as well.

  “Take your time,” Klein said.

  Ethan looked up from the card and watched the federal agent glance suggestively at his watch. Ethan had been absorbing Raleigh’s words through the clear-plastic evidence bag, reading the same three sentences for nearly fifteen minutes now.

  “Thank you,” Ethan managed to say.

  Apparently, Klein’s comment had been an example of sarcasm. “You have one more minute, and then you can tell me what it means.”

  Ethan looked through the plastic again at the round loops of his wife’s cursive writing, the tidy, clean lines with the balanced width between each letter. Raleigh had a way of making a grocery list look like art, evoking the kind of emotion you’d unleash while staring at a Renoir painting.

  Thank you for being my loving mother, the rational foundation through my irrational life. But sometimes, Mary, love really isn’t enough, and you do irrational things to achieve rational goals. You were right about that.

  Ethan knew that Raleigh had chosen her message carefully. He explained that to Klein. “She could never just write ‘happy birthday, you old bat,’ and get on with it. Especially where it concerned her mother.”

  “And with you?”

  Ethan shrugged.

  “You received a card, too, didn’t you, Ethan?”

  “I wish,” Ethan said, still staring at Raleigh’s beautiful words. But then he realized that this card and message served as something of a double-edged sword, a final screw-you to her mother whose health had been questionable back then, on the verge of a quick spiral into a wild disarray of rage and blankness. “Actually, I take that back,” Ethan finally admitted.

  “What’s she talking about, that part about rational and irrational?”

  At last, Ethan handed the evidence back to Agent Klein and shook his head. More than anything, he wanted to get home now. Klein was on to something. Rational and irrational. Still shaking his head, Ethan said, “Raleigh’s relationship with her mother was—”

  “Unconventional,” Klein said. “You’ve suggested that.”

  “And she had this thing with the money.”

  “You mentioned that, too.”

  Squinting and rubbing his temples, Ethan let out a pensive sigh. “I really don’t know. Raleigh’s mother was al
ways rational, even though it led to Raleigh and me having to make irrational decisions about student loans and car bills, and all of that stuff that young couples struggle with. The only five-star meals we had were the ones Raleigh’s mother had catered.” He met Klein’s stare. “That’s the best I can come up with.”

  “Could it have anything to do with your relationship?” Klein wanted more, it seemed. Wanted Ethan to solve the whole damn puzzle, but Ethan had his own pieces he wanted to put into place.

  “Yeah, I supposed it could. You have those false complaints of domestic abuse that she allegedly filed with the Chicago Police; that’s very irrational, wouldn’t you say?” Ethan pretended to think it through.

  “And what about the rational part?”

  Ethan shook his head, still thinking it through and realizing what it was that had him so anxious to get home. “I really don’t know, Agent Klein.” He pushed his chair out and stood up. “I guess my one minute is up. I have to get home.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Doing irrational things to achieve rational goals.

  It took Ethan quite a bit of effort to make sure he didn’t speed excessively, something the Jaguar made nearly impossible. Since buying the vehicle earlier in the year, he’d learned (twice, the second time within two months of the first) that the police weren’t particularly forgiving of a pre-mid-life-crisis male driving a fancy SUV above the speed limit. Speeding wasn’t a cheap hobby, so he set the cruise control.

  Once he made it to the house, he backed the Jag into the garage like he normally would, but then he got out of the vehicle before the garage door rolled all the way shut and hurried across the backyard, down the stairs to the iron-barred door. Unlike last time, there was no sticky note, so he let himself in and raced upstairs, past the plastic sheet that sealed off the renovations in the living room, and then took the stairs to the top floor, two at a time.