The Heritage Paper

by Derek Ciccone

  “How did you know we were here?” Veronica asked sharply.

  “I was able to attach a little gadget to Maggie’s cell phone when she visited my place, which allowed me to track her. Isn’t modern technology fantastic? When I was a boy, the automobile was a luxury, and now the whole world is connected by a signal.”

  “Where’s Flavia?”

  “She can no longer hurt anyone. Same with Jim Kingston, who was struck down by a sudden stroke earlier today, even if they are calling it a suicide.”

  “My children are innocent!” Veronica shouted through tears, “Please let them go.”

  “We both know that isn’t true. But let me tell you a story about someone who was innocent. My father was a doctor in Munich who helped those who couldn’t afford medical treatment after World War I. It was there he came across a young prostitute named Etta who was impregnated by a German corporal. He threatened her with violence if she didn’t terminate the child. But my father risked his life to help secretly deliver the child—a girl named Ellen.

  “What he didn’t know was that his loyalty had helped to continue a shark infested gene pool. I think you have most likely figured out what that young corporal’s name was, Veronica. And how was my father rewarded for this? He was murdered by those with the same blood as your children.”

  Veronica kept frantically pounding the door, but it wouldn’t budge. She tried kicking it, but the only damage she inflicted was on her own foot.

  “If you do this, you are a monster just like those Nazis you hunted. Just like those secret police who tracked down Anne Frank hiding in that attic. Just like the ones who killed your father and fiancée. Just like the ones who loaded the trains with children and the elderly, and sent them to their death …”

  She hoped to strike a nerve of guilt, but Youkelstein seemed unfazed.

  “Mom—please!” Maggie called out again, and Veronica’s heart almost exploded.

  “The ironic thing, Veronica, is after all the evil I hunted down across the globe, your family came to me—when Carsten brought the letters between Ellen and Heinrich Müller. That in itself was quite an impressive discovery. But you see, one of the letters was dated April 20, and in that letter Ellen and Müller discussed the birthday of their son Josef’s grandfather, who was an Apostle named Peter. April 20 happens to be the birthday of a certain former German leader. It allowed me to connect the dots.

  “When I learned that Carsten’s grandmother was Ellen, it brought me back to the story my father told me. I knew it couldn’t be a coincidence, and I had to eliminate the tree at the roots.”

  “You killed Carsten!” Veronica shouted through sobs. She was now bull-rushing the door with no success.

  “I enjoyed my time with Carsten. He was intelligent and passionate, much like his daughter. As was Ellen when I surprised her with a visit. But in the end, I had no choice.”

  “If it wasn’t for Maggie and Jamie then the world as we know it would be gone. How could someone who did that be evil?”

  Veronica’s plan was to hold on as long as she could. An elderly man who suffered a multitude of injuries over the last two days, including a gunshot wound to the shoulder he held his weapon with, couldn’t hold out much longer, could he? Even fueled by his thirst for revenge, he’d ultimately run out of gas and drop his weapon.

  She hoped.

  Keep him talking, she told herself. Play into his ego … his vanity.

  But Jamie threw a wrench into her plan. “Hey Maggie, let’s play the game we did at the subway.”

  “No, Jamie—no!” Veronica shouted out.

  But it was too late—she heard his small feet running across the floor and yelling out a nonsensical, primal scream.

  “No!” Veronica shouted again.

  A gunshot rang out and she heard a body hit the floor. Maggie screamed.

  Veronica dropped to her knees, yelling at the top of her lungs. But there was nothing she could do to drown her pain.

  Footsteps moved toward the door once again. She scrambled back, but it was too late. The door swung open and a man stood before her.

  She thought she must be dreaming, because when she looked at the man with a gun in his hand, it was Zach. She shook the cobwebs out.

  Still Zach. Was he in on this?

  “Are you okay?” he asked.

  She didn’t know what to say. But when Jamie bolted into the room with a smile on his face, she had her answer … she was perfect.

  “But how?” she asked, still in shock.

  “There was something Sterling said on that tape Youkelstein gave me, which got me thinking. He said he would protect your children from Youkelstein, who came to harm them.”

  Before she could completely digest Zach’s words, she heard Maggie’s voice in the other room. But she wasn’t sure she liked what was coming out of her mouth. “He’s losing a lot of blood—we need to get him to a hospital.”

  Veronica couldn’t believe Maggie was trying to help the man who tried to kill her. Youkelstein was not dead—he had been shot in the same shoulder as last night. But that was her daughter. Maggie wasn’t evil; in fact, she represented everything that was good and hopeful in this world.

  Youkelstein had other plans. As if he mortgaged every last ounce of strength in his body, he rose to his feet and mumbled something, the only word Veronica could make out was ‘Esther,’ and rushed toward Maggie with his umbrella pointed at her.

  Veronica instinctively grabbed the gun out of Zach’s hands and fired.

  Youkelstein fell to the ground, dead.

  Veronica threw the gun as far as she could and pulled her children into a group hug, trying to shield them from the horrible scene.

  Chapter 88

  Veronica Peterson’s week from hell ended on a blissful Saturday afternoon. It was as if Mother Nature was signaling that things would be okay.

  The Petersons’ long journey back to normalcy was beginning with some good old fashioned yard work and leaf raking. But it predictably turned into the kids playing in the leaves as Veronica photographed them. She was trying to capture every moment of their innocence.

  She had sent them to school on Thursday and Friday. Well, Maggie went to school, but the judge upheld Jamie’s sentence. He spent his days at Uncle Phil and Aunt Val’s, probably longing for a return of the Nazis.

  Veronica got back to normalcy herself. That is, if you can call making funeral arrangements normal, along with wrapping up Ellen’s affairs at Sunshine Village.

  She still had mixed feelings about Ellen, but Flavia left this world with nothing but her respect—not that Flavia cared what she thought. Veronica realized that she never really hated her. She actually envied her, because she was a constant and painful reminder of the person Veronica used to be. The one that Carsten fell in love with. She vowed to never lose herself again.

  Flavia also left her art gallery and farmhouse to the estate of Carsten Peterson. Leaving it to someone who brightened her life, as the farmhouse had been left for her. Veronica could see herself running the gallery, keeping Flavia’s dreams alive, but also re-starting her own. She visualized Maggie working with her during her summer vacations from school, maybe even hanging a Maggie & Veronica Peterson original on the wall. And while logic told Veronica to run as far away from the ghosts as possible, her gut disagreed.

  Next week would be the full-dress police funeral for Lieutenant Edward Peterson, who would be laid to rest as a hero. Journalists like Zach might see nobility in the quest for the truth, but Veronica thought the world was a better place when there were more heroes than scoundrels, even if that conflicted with reality.

  She believed the same about Youkelstein, who was also being hailed as a survivor who sought justice. And since his body was laid to rest deep in the caves beneath Flavia’s property, it likely would never be found, and Veronica and her children would never have to be questioned about the shooting or what led to it.

  And Eddie’s police family continued his legacy as the prot
ector. They wouldn’t allow anyone to get within a hundred feet of Veronica’s house, or the children at school. This police protection wasn’t for any reprisals or revenge from the Nazis or Kingston supporters—it was from the media. The last thing Veronica wanted was their association with Ellen to cause them to be dragged back into a drama they never asked for.

  Veronica looked at her children through her camera lens. Jamie was running and jumping into the piles of leaves like he was performing a cannonball dive into a swimming pool. Maggie had bunched handfuls of leaves under her shirt. She yelled, “Look Mom—I look like a pregnant lady!”

  Oh God—no! It’s way too early to even start thinking about those things.

  Veronica thought again of her natural instinct to protect. Did that mean that nature would eventually win out in the never-ending debate?

  That’s what scared her.

  Did this mean Maggie and Jamie had a ticking time bomb inside them? Did she give birth to Rosemary’s babies? According to many accounts, including Ellen’s, Hitler didn’t embrace his vile views until his teens. Before that, he was supposedly just a passionate artist with a temper—sort of like Maggie.

  So every time Jamie poisoned a classmate’s lunch or Maggie displayed a passion for politics, Veronica would wonder if it was the zest of youth, or a cancer spreading inside them. For a mother, it was eternal damnation—they might have caught the bad guys, but this would never be over.

  She wanted to believe the Ellen view of nurture. That a mother could guide the child through the events that shape their life for the better or worse, and send them down the right path. It was an empowering viewpoint. Even if according to some, this made her a narcissist.

  Flavia believed that neither nature nor nurture shaped children. While providing a good home and values might be helpful, in the end it’s up to the individual to make the correct decisions on their actions. And there can be no predictive analysis of what those decisions will be when presented with the unpredictable choices life will present.

  And it wasn’t just Flavia who believed this. Veronica again thought of Anne Frank, who wrote: The final forming of a person’s character lies in their own hands.

  A car pulled up the driveway, stealing Veronica’s gaze.

  Zach and TJ.

  TJ gave Veronica the abrupt hello of a twelve-year-old, then did a beeline to Maggie and Jamie. He dove into the leaf pile like it was the town pool.

  Zach approached her with a big grin. “So, did you do anything interesting last week, Ms. Peterson?”

  She smiled back at him. “I didn’t think you’d have time for us common folk anymore, Mr. Big Shot. What’s next—anchoring the national news?”

  He maintained his contented smile. “No, I’m happy where I’m at. Once you hit the bottom you realize how silly all that stuff is.”

  He handed Veronica a bound document. “What’s this?” she asked.

  “It’s a printed copy of Ellen’s memoir. I erased the copy in the safe-deposit box.”

  “Why’d you do that? I figured you were going to publish it. You have my blessing as long as Maggie and Jamie aren’t mentioned.” She smiled, before adding, “And that you take us to the Rainforest Café with some of the royalties you earn, of course.”

  Zach shook his head. “All that would do is cause more burden for your kids that they didn’t ask for.” His face saddened as he looked out at TJ. “If anyone has learned about putting burdens on children, it’s Sara and me.”

  He pulled out the tape Youkelstein gave him, and asked, “Do you think I’m a good reporter?”

  “The best.”

  “Well, not as good as Maggie, because she asked the most important question in this whole thing—why was he chosen? And when I arrived at the farmhouse, I overheard the back-end of your conversation with Youkelstein. The part where he was outlining his motivation for what he was doing. I think he answered the question. In fact, I think Ellen already answered it for you on that video she left you—the one that died at the tip of your boot.”

  Veronica didn’t say anything.

  “I’m right, aren’t I?”

  She remained silent.

  “A simple shake of the head will do. Or you can extend your arm and give me the heil sign.”

  She turned to him. “You can’t say anything.”

  He tossed her the tape with a grin. “It’s your secret. Nobody will ever know but you, me, and Grandpa Adolf.”

  Veronica looked out at her kids. Maggie and TJ were burying Jamie alive under the leaves, and he seemed to be enjoying it. She had explained to Maggie and Jamie that Youkelstein’s words at the farm were just the desperate rants of a sick old man. Jamie didn’t really understand any of it, while Maggie was predictably skeptical of anything her mother said.

  Zach read the dread in her face. “It’s probably not true, anyway.”

  “How can you say that? Why would he have taken her in if she wasn’t his daughter?”

  “Most people crave to have children, perhaps even the worst ones, so maybe he wanted to believe she was. And while it was true that Corporal Hitler was in Munich in late 1916 and early 1917 while recovering from a battle wound, making an encounter with Ellen’s mother possible, the fact is, she was a prostitute who was likely with numerous men, and it’s not like they were doing DNA testing back then. And while it’s not scientific, I don’t see any outward resemblance to Ellen or any of your children.” He thought for a second, before adding, “Although, I once saw Maggie with a chocolate milk mustache after serving her and TJ lunch, and now that I think about it …”

  She tapped him playfully on the shoulder. “Not funny.”

  “And remember that battle injury I mentioned? Well, it has been long rumored that it was a shot to the groin, and he lost one of his friends down there, which left him impotent. So it might not even have been physically possible.”

  “But everything else Ellen said turned out to be true.”

  “Even if it is, I think they’re going to turn out great.”

  “How can you be so sure?”

  “There’s a precedent.”

  “Which is?”

  “Luke Skywalker was Darth Vader’s kid and he seemed to turn out okay.”

  The comment drew a smile from Veronica. That wasn’t any easy accomplishment when it came to this topic. “That’s true, but he did have a strange sexual tension with his sister.”

  “Yes, but if I recall correctly, Luke and Leia did end up saving the universe—sound familiar?”

  As usual, it was the right words and the right tone. “So now that you’re kind of a big deal, I hope you’re not afraid to get your hands dirty—why don’t you pick up a rake?”

  His smile left. “I’d love to, but TJ and I have to get going. We’re late for a visit with his mother.”

  Veronica put on her tough face and gave him a hug. “Thank you for everything—I hope it all works out for you.”

  After watching Zach and TJ drive away, Veronica’s children began calling, “C’mon, Mom—come and play in the leaves!” Jamie yelled.

  She looked at them and filled with the hope for the future that children so often bring out in adults. Once more, she thought of Anne Frank, who never got the opportunity to play in the leaves with her mother because of the Nazis. Her words flowed through Veronica’s head as she approached the leaf pile. This is not the end. It’s not even the beginning of the end. But it is, perhaps, the end of the beginning.

  “Kids against adults!” Jamie announced. He threw a colorful collage of leaves at Veronica that glanced off her face.

  She picked up a handful and fired them right back at Jamie. Then Maggie turned on her brother and dumped a bundle of leaves over his head. It was girls against the boy.

  A full-scale leaf war broke out. Leaves filled the air, as did their laughter. After a few spirited minutes, Veronica rushed her children and tackled them into the leaf pile. She hugged them as hard as she could. She would have held them forever, but Jamie squ
irmed away.

  He picked up a pile of leaves and tossed them as high as he could into the air. “Look—it’s snowing leaves!” he shouted gleefully.

  Veronica watched the leaves, as they seemed to fall to the earth in slow motion. As they did, she heard Anne Frank’s words whistling through the wind: Think of all the beauty around you and be happy.

  Veronica fixated on the leaves raining down upon the beauty that was surrounding her—her children—and when the final leaf hit the ground, she was …

  Happy.

  * * *

  Thank you for reading The Heritage Paper. If you enjoyed the book, I hope that you will leave a rating or review for it. Feedback and support also appreciated at:

  Derek Ciccone Book Club on Facebook.

  Twitter: @DCicconeBooks

  Email: derekbkclb@yahoo.com

  Also by Derek Ciccone:

  Painless

  The Truant Officer

  The Trials of Max Q

  Officer Jones

  Kristmas Collins

  Acknowledgments

  The Heritage Paper was the trickiest story I’ve ever written, due to its use of real life historical references. At the end of the day, it’s a work of fiction meant to entertain, and certainly not a history book or official record, but I do think it’s important to be as accurate as possible with these facts and historical figures. And I hope that was achieved.

  The story is also loaded with conspiracy theories, many which are well known. While they are used as a vehicle to tell the story, in no way does it mean that I am endorsing them as true. I’ll leave that up to you. My take on conspiracy theories in general, is that there’s probably a 99.9% chance that they’re not true. But it’s that 0.1% possibility that makes them so enticing when it comes to fiction, and that small dose of possibility can draw us in and make for a fun ride.

  Many of the referenced events in the book from World War II to 9/11 to potential conflict in the Middle East all have touched people in a real way in the non-fiction world we live in. And of course, the terror of Nazi Germany and the Holocaust, which is at the center of the story. So I’d like to thank everyone who provided feedback to me on those subjects, so that I could be sure that those events were referenced with the proper sensibility.