Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 93002 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 465(@200wpm)___ 372(@250wpm)___ 310(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 93002 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 465(@200wpm)___ 372(@250wpm)___ 310(@300wpm)
“I don’t remember there being maps in the book,” my mother said slowly. “It was…” She closed her eyes as if trying to think. “It was a weird, swirly paisley.”
Taking the book from my hands, she turned it in her lap and wedged her fingernail under the edge where the glue had begun to give way. Slowly, she worked the endpapers free of the glue, up around the corner and down one side. When she’d freed almost half, she lifted the endpaper and tilted the book. A small, folded packet of paper slid out, landing in her lap. She let out a gasp, her eyes wide with wonder.
Shoving the book into my hands, she picked up the packet of papers, unfolding them slowly. There were two, the first a sheet of notepaper that read ALAN BUCKLEY at the top. My chest squeezed as I recognized it from his desk at our old house. The second page was almost translucent, a printed receipt with the logo of a travel agency at the top. The lines of the receipt were filled with notes and dates—an itinerary from almost two decades ago.
The trip to Europe Emmett Blake had discovered. Before I could think too much, my mother shoved my father’s note at me, her eyes full of tears.
“Read it,” my mother whispered.
Sterling moved to look over my shoulder, and together, we read my father’s final words.
To Forrest and Emily, my dearest, truest loves,
Congratulations on solving the final clue. I always hoped my obsessions would pay off. I promised you riches, success, and adventure, and I can finally say I’ve delivered on all three.
This trip is just the beginning for the three of us. It’s time to start a new chapter in our lives.
I love you both so much. Thank you for your faith in me. I hope you’ll feel it’s been rewarded.
Love,
Alan
Sterling looked up at me, tears streaming down her face. “He never meant to leave you,” she said. “He was going to start a new adventure—” Her words cut off, and her shoulders hitched. “I’m sorry. It’s just, I’m so sorry.”
I knew without her having to explain that she was thinking of her father and his role in what I now knew was certainly my father’s murder.
Because the man who wrote this letter, the man who’d planned this trip, day by day, with the travel agent—that man had not taken his own life.
My mother reached out, her fingers closing around mine. “He didn’t leave us,” she said, her voice filled with grief and wonder.
“No,” I agreed, feeling the wet heat on my own face to mirror hers. I moved to sit beside her on the bed, Sterling on my other side.
“I misunderstood everything. I got it all wrong, and I kept him from you. Kept his memory locked away out of anger, and he—” She choked on a sob, and I hugged her, pulling her damp cheek to my shoulder.
“You didn’t know,” I said, wishing I had the right words to comfort her. It was easy to look back and say she should have known, and so impossible when things had seemed so clear. He’d lost his company to Prentice Sawyer. The police were certain he’d taken his own life. Everything seemed to add up, and she’d been in so much pain.
“You only knew what you knew,” Sterling said, reaching out to take my mom’s hand in hers. “I’m so sorry, my father—” Sterling choked on the word, her eyes squeezing shut.
“Oh, Sterling, no,” my mother said as I wrapped my arm around Sterling, holding her close. “You have nothing to be sorry for.”
“Your father was a monster,” I said, brushing my lips across the top of her head. “And you grew up to be you despite him.”
“I have part of him inside me,” she whispered, turning her head into my shoulder and letting out a ragged breath.
“Barely anything,” I said. “Griffen isn’t a monster. Neither are Tenn and Royal, or Quinn, Parker, Finn, Avery…”
Sterling gave a watery laugh. “I noticed you didn’t mention Ford or Brax.”
“I haven’t decided about Ford,” I said, honestly. “But Brax definitely takes after your father.”
Sterling straightened, wiping her eyes. “I’d understand if you blamed me,” she said.
My mother simply said, “We don’t. And I don’t want you worrying over it, understand? His sins are his own.”
Sterling nodded and gave her a weak smile, her eyes drifting down to the papers in my mother’s hand.
We sat there, the three of us, rereading my father’s letter, studying the itinerary for the European tour that had never happened. My mother traced her finger across the letterhead on the thin paper. “They probably called after he died. I would have assumed it was a sales call.” She let out a ragged breath. “I’m so sorry, Forrest.” She looked to me, her eyes filled with remorse.