She's My Mom

by Rebecca Winters

  “You went to work in March, but you didn’t take over the Drummond account until the end of July. I backed up all twelve disks before the FBI took the originals. Unfortunately, your notebook was destroyed with your car. Your first calendar entry reads ‘File one. Check F, P, S.’ I’d assumed those letters referred to various companies, but that doesn’t seem to be the case.

  “From August through to the week of the explosion, most of the boxes on your calendar contain a file number with a note to check certain items. But I don’t know what they are because you had a system of using letters of the alphabet to designate everything.”

  “Did I always bring the calendar in here?”

  “No. You’d go to the kitchen and jot down a reminder to yourself.”

  “That seems like a strange system.” She scrolled down and back. Then she shook her head. “Grady, I don’t have the faintest idea what I’m doing.”

  “I know that.” On a burst of inspiration, he got up and walked over to the bookcase. She kept all her old textbooks there. He pulled out the one she’d always referred to and put it next to the keyboard.

  “This was your bible. You’ve written in the margins. Maybe something in here will help you make sense of what’s on the screen.”

  He felt her hesitate. “I’ll try.”

  “I’ll help you, Mom,” Brett said earnestly.

  “Thanks, darling.”

  “While you guys do that, I’ll be in the kitchen on the phone.”

  Susan was glad he’d left them alone. She couldn’t possibly work with him watching. He wanted answers. So did she. But he exuded an intense energy that made her far too aware of him and made it difficult for her to concentrate.

  Her gaze wandered to an unlabeled envelope sitting on the desk. “What’s this?”

  “It’s information about the CPA firm. You know, phone numbers and stuff. Dad hoped you’d remember something from looking at it.”

  “Oh, Brett, I think I know how Noah felt when he was told to build an ark and didn’t have the faintest idea what one looked like.”

  “You remember who Noah was?”

  “Yes. It’s strange, isn’t it? The doctor at the shelter told me amnesiacs remember all kinds of information like that, yet they don’t remember really important personal things.”

  “You’ll remember Dad one of these days. As for accounting, I don’t think it could be as hard as building an ark.”

  “Don’t forget Noah got a lot of help.”

  “You’ll get help, too, Mom.”

  Her son’s faith was humbling. She gave him a hug. “Especially with you around. Okay.” Reaching for the accounting book, she said, “Let’s see what’s in the table of contents.” After scanning the list she came to a topic and read it aloud. “‘Uncovering fraud.”’

  “Dad thinks someone committed fraud against Mr. Drummond and you found out.”

  “Assuming that’s true, it would be like looking for one grain of sand in a bucketful.”

  “How come?”

  The house phone rang just then. They both ignored it. “Think of all the things that go into the creation of a hotel like the Etoile—the design, the funding, the construction, just to name a few.”

  “Yeah, except that it’s built now and Dad said there hasn’t been any trouble. He’d know if there was.”

  “I’m sure he would. So if I did find something wrong—”

  “Then it’s still hidden, because they killed you before you could tell anyone.”

  “It must’ve been something really big for them to plant bombs.”

  “Dad’s positive the man you replaced was murdered.”

  “I know. Just think, Brett. If I could stay dead long enough to figure this out…”

  “Do it, Mom!”

  Oh, why couldn’t she remember?

  In angry frustration, she turned to the section on fraud. “Let’s take a look at the different kinds of fraud. Tax, commercial business, construction.”

  “Do you think it could be one of those three?”

  “Probably. I need to read about them.”

  “I just got an idea. Can I try something on the computer while you do that?”

  “Sure. We’ll change seats.”

  Before she began, she watched her son in fascination. “What are you doing?”

  “If you want to find a word, you click on Edit, type in the word you’re looking for, and the computer will scroll down to highlight it.”

  “What word are you going to put in?”

  “Those letters F, P, S.”

  “Do it,” she urged him.

  After a minute, he frowned. “Heck. It didn’t find that combination.”

  “How about just doing the F?”

  “It’ll stop on every word with an F in it.”

  “Let me see.”

  He did about ten of them. “Some are in the middle, some at the end.”

  “Try scrolling to the top of the file, Brett. I want to see which ones begin with F.”

  There were dozens, most of them verbs. “Too bad there’s no device to pick out nouns,” she murmured.

  “I know what those are. A person, place or thing.”

  “Good for you.” She squeezed his arm. “Okay. I’m going to read for a few minutes.”

  Susan sat back to immerse herself in actual landmark fraud cases from the past. In the margins she saw notes written in her hand, indicating why one or the other was especially interesting or important. Surprised to find the cases intriguing, she lost track of time. The phone rang again. She was hardly aware of it.

  When she’d finished the last case, she shut the book and looked over at Brett, who was printing a number of pages. She saw in the corner of the computer that it was ten after three. Susan couldn’t believe how long they’d been sitting there.

  She jumped to her feet. “Your father’s probably wondering what’s happened to us. Let’s go find him and fix some lunch.”

  “When he looked in a little while ago, he was eating a sandwich.”

  No doubt Grady hadn’t wanted to break her concentration. “Well, I’m hungry. Do you want a sandwich, too?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Yes, please.” The minute she corrected him, she realized her error. “Forgive me, Brett. I didn’t mean to say that. It just came out.”

  But she needn’t have worried about offending him. He had a smile on his face. “For someone who doesn’t remember everything, you sounded just like you used to.”

  She smiled back. “Then I guess it’s something you still have to work on.”

  “Yeah. I mean, yes.”

  Susan couldn’t resist hugging him again. “What did you print?”

  “I went through the file, hunting for all the nouns that start with an F, P or S. Then I copied and pasted them to make a list.”

  “You’re kidding! Let me see.”

  “I’d like a look myself.”

  Her heart turned over at the sound of her husband’s voice. He walked toward them, carrying a bag of potato chips, drinks and a plate piled with sandwiches.

  His rugged features were so attractive beneath that dark hair, she couldn’t help staring at him. “I would’ve made lunch for all of us.”

  “You were doing something much more important. Besides, I like waiting on my family.”

  “Thank you, Grady.” Susan reached for a ham sandwich with cheese and lettuce.

  Brett took a couple with peanut butter and jelly. “Yea-yes, Dad. Thanks.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  While Grady gave his attention to the list, Brett shared the chips with her. They were both hungry and finished their meal in record time. Susan was about to open her soda when the front doorbell rang, startling her.

  Grady put the paper on the desk, then he walked over to the shutters and peered through a crack.

  When he finally left the window, she thought he was coming back to sit down—until she saw the forbidding expression on his face. A thrill of fear ran thr
ough her body as he unlocked the bottom drawer of the desk with a key he took from his pocket and retrieved a gun.

  “Don’t move.” He mouthed the words before stealing from the den.

  Susan exchanged shocked glances with Brett. By now her heart was racing so fast it was almost painful. In an instinctive gesture, she put her arm around her son’s shoulders while they waited.

  “Dad must think somebody’s trying to break in. That’d be a dumb thing to do, because we have a sign by the door that says our house is protected by an alarm.

  “Any idiot knows it’ll go off at the police station. Not only that, after you died, Dad set up a minicamera that snaps a picture when a person rings the bell.”

  She shivered. “Unfortunately some idiots are still willing to take risks if they’re desperate enough.” No matter how infallible Grady seemed, bad things happened to the best police officers.

  They both jumped when they heard the back doorbell ring. Susan hugged her son tighter.

  It felt like an eternity before Grady returned. She thought the look on his face would strike fear in the heart of anyone who made the mistake of tangling with him. He locked the gun back in the drawer.

  “What’s going on, Dad?”

  “Two men just cased our house,” he said. “They carried Bibles and they wore white shirts and ties. They were trying to pass themselves off as Mormon missionaries.”

  “How do you know they weren’t?”

  “On closer inspection, they looked too old. Plus they weren’t wearing the usual identification tags. It’s common knowledge at the station that missionaries adhere to strict proselyting rules and only do front-door approaches. When this pair walked around the back to ring the other bell, they gave themselves away.”

  “Did they come on bikes?”

  “No. That was another clue. I watched from an upstairs window. After a short wait, they took off over the back fence and worked their way through the Hanes’s yard to the next street. They kept walking until I eventually lost sight of them.”

  Susan let go of Brett and got up from the chair. “If ours was the only house they picked on the street, do you thi—”

  “No.” Grady cut her off. “I’m convinced the person who tried to kill you still believes you’re dead. The two thugs who came to our door were after something specific in the house.”

  “It’s what I told you, Mom—our alarm sign scared them away.”

  “If they hadn’t gone around back, I’d agree with you, Brett.”

  He eyed his dad in confusion. “Why do you think they did that?”

  “To find out if Mrs. Harmon was inside. You can’t see into the garage to know if her car was parked there or not. They needed her to open the door so they wouldn’t set off the alarm.”

  Susan was as perplexed as Brett. “If they know a detective lives here, how would they dare try anything?”

  “I’ve been asking myself the same question. The only answer that makes sense is they knew Brett and I have supposedly gone on vacation. They figured it was safe to make their move.”

  “But you must have taken other trips with Brett in the past six months. Why didn’t they overpower Mrs. Harmon the last time you went away? Or the time before that?”

  She thought Grady would answer, but it was their son who spoke up. “After the explosion, Dad and I didn’t go on any trips.”

  Susan stared at her husband in surprise. “Not even to see his cousins in California?”

  “No.”

  “You mean the house has never been left unattended?”

  “No,” he declared a second time. “I told you I haven’t been the best father for the past six months.”

  “That’s not true, Dad.”

  Anger raged inside her. “Don’t, Grady. You can’t blame yourself like this. Our lives were blown apart that day. What frightens me is the possibility that someone’s been monitoring your movements, just waiting for an opportunity like this.”

  Smoothing the hair away from her face, she said, “I don’t want to think it, but what if you’re right, and an escaped convict or ex-felon with a vendetta against you intends to plant a bomb in here in order to get rid of you?

  “Maybe it’s a copycat bomber who knew what happened to me and has decided to get rid of you and Brett the same way. You told me that’s what happened to a judge’s family in Reno.”

  He stared at her flushed cheeks. “Anyone who hated me that much would have found another way to blow us up long before now. No—my instincts tell me that isn’t what this is about.”

  “Dad, even if they’d been watching the house, they couldn’t have known we planned to go away. We didn’t decide until yesterday. The only people who think we left town are my friends.”

  Susan waited for Grady to say something. When he drew the cell phone from his pocket without responding to Brett, the significance of the moment sent chills through her body.

  She heard him ask for Captain Willis.

  “Who’s that?” she whispered to Brett as Grady turned his back and walked away from them.

  “Dad’s boss.”

  The conversation went on for a long time, increasing her anxiety. She could only admire Brett, whose composure allowed him to play solitaire on the computer while they waited.

  Needing something to calm her nerves, she reached for the paper Brett had printed, curious to see all the nouns he’d found.

  It pleased her to discover their son had a good grasp of English grammar. Todd never did know an adjective from a preposition.

  Todd.

  She reached for Brett’s arm. “I just remembered something else about my brother.”

  “Mom!” With that jubilant cry, he abandoned the computer game. “What is it?”

  After she told him, he said, “Wait till Dad hears this.”

  They both looked in his direction, but he was still deep in conversation.

  Between her worry over her husband and son, and now this latest flashback, she was an emotional disaster. Until she could talk to Grady, she would force herself to concentrate on the list Brett had made.

  There weren’t as many nouns as she would’ve supposed. She studied them several times. She eventually came up with three items having to do with building construction: fans, plywood, stain.

  Was that what the letters stood for? If so, why had she made a note to check them in particular?

  “Brett? Go to the top of the file and find the word plywood.”

  “Okay.”

  He did something that got rid of the solitaire game, then they were back to the account. The word came right up. “It just says plywood.”

  “Now go to stain.”

  He did it. “Stain. Maple is in parentheses.”

  “All right—try the last one. Fans.”

  She waited until he found it. “Fans. Lcfpm is in parentheses.”

  The three items were buried among so many dozens of others in the file, Susan couldn’t be sure the letters had anything to do with them.

  “I appreciate your going to all the trouble of making those lists for me, darling.”

  “Do you think it’ll help you?”

  “Maybe. Thanks to you, we have a place to start. I don’t remember being an accountant, but I do know it means keeping track of costs to make certain everything balances.”

  She looked at the calendar again. Out of curiosity she said, “Brett? How do you get to file two? I made a note to look at the Es.”

  After he showed her, she asked him to search every E.

  Since it was a vowel, this was an endless process. The first noun in the search highlighted elevator. Who knew how many more nouns relating to construction were in this file alone?

  “Brett?”

  Grady shut off his phone just then, and they both turned in his direction.

  “The disks will have to wait. Would you turn off the computer, please? We have to talk.”

  That sounded ominous. In a fit of nervousness Susan cleared up the remains of their lu
nch and put the potato chip bag in the wastebasket.

  “Okay, Dad. It’s done. What’s going on?”

  Grady sat down in the chair he’d occupied earlier. His arms rested on his thighs, with his hands clasped between his knees. “We have to send both of you to a secure place.”

  “No!” they cried at the same time.

  Brett’s face had grown red. “I’m not going!”

  “Neither am I,” Susan said, dry-eyed. “We were separated once before by someone evil. I refuse to let that happen again. This family’s been through hell. Now that we’re together, we’re going to stay together.”

  Her husband’s mouth looked white around the edges. “I can’t risk losing the two of you.”

  He was close enough that Susan simply fell on her knees in front of him. She gripped his hands. “As long as we can be with you to fight this, nobody’s going to lose anybody. We’re not leaving you, Grady.”

  “Yeah, Dad! I’m a teenager, not a baby. I can handle whatever happens. You’ve even taught me how to use a gun.”

  At that remark Grady shot out of the chair. Holding on to the back of it, he studied them for what seemed like an eternity.

  “If I let you stay here, you have to promise you’ll do exactly what I say.”

  “We promise.”

  It was a good thing Brett spoke for them, because relief had left Susan feeling weak. In a clumsy effort, she got up from the floor and took her seat again.

  “Guess what, Dad? Mom remembered something else about Uncle Todd.”

  Grady looked at her intently. “Was it when you still lived with your parents?”

  Don’t be crushed because I can’t remember you yet, Grady. I want to, more than you know.

  “I’m not sure. I just suddenly recalled that he was never good at grammar. But our son is.”

  She flashed him a smile, hoping he would acknowledge that remark. Instead, a bleakness entered his eyes.

  “Your mind must be suppressing certain memories to protect you from remembering that horrific morning.”

  “That’s what I’m beginning to think.”

  In fact, it was what she believed, but she feared that deep in his heart her husband thought it might be for another reason.

  I didn’t fall out of love with you, Grady. That’s not the reason I got the job before telling you what I’d done. It’s not the reason I can’t remember you. I know that in my heart. How can I reassure you?