Chapter 7 - Margaret Voss
We found Margaret Voss three days later.
Or rather, she found us.
A letter arrived at the cabin.
No stamp.
No return address.
Just my name written in neat, familiar handwriting.
Anna Bennett.
I almost refused to open it.
Then Daniel took the envelope, checked it for anything dangerous, and handed it back.
“You don’t have to,” he said.
But I did.
Inside was a single note.
I always knew you would become trouble. Come to St. Mark’s Church if you want to know why your mother left you. Alone.
My mother.
I had no memory of her.
No photo.
No name beyond what little the state records contained.
She had surrendered me when I was three months old and disappeared.
For years, I told myself I didn’t care.
But some wounds don’t disappear.
They just learn to stay quiet.
Daniel read the note over my shoulder.
“You’re not going alone.”
“She said alone.”
“She’s not in charge.”
“She might know something.”
“She might be lying.”
“She might,” I said. “But I need to know.”
Daniel looked at me for a long time.
Then he nodded.
“Okay. We go together.”
St. Mark’s Church was empty except for Margaret.
She stood near the altar in a dark coat, older than I remembered but unmistakable. Her gray hair was pinned back. Her posture was still severe.
She smiled when she saw me.
“Anna.”
I felt thirteen again.
Small.
Powerless.
Ashamed for being afraid.
Then Daniel’s hand brushed mine.
Not gripping.
Not controlling.
Just there.
And I remembered that I was twenty-two now.
“Why am I here?” I asked.
Margaret’s eyes moved to Daniel.
“So this is the Hawthorne boy.”
“Don’t call him that,” I said.
Her smile sharpened. “Protective. Interesting.”
“Answer her,” Daniel said.
Margaret sighed. “Your mother did not abandon you, Anna. She was running.”
My breath stopped.
“From who?”
“From Edward Hawthorne.”
Daniel went still.
Margaret continued. “Your mother worked as a bookkeeper for one of his companies. She found records. Money being moved through charities, housing programs, foster care agencies.”
I stared at her.
“She threatened to expose them,” Margaret said. “Then she disappeared.”
“You’re lying.”
“I wish I were.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
Margaret’s eyes hardened. “Because you were safer not knowing.”
“You hurt me.”
“You were difficult.”
“You abused me.”
She flinched.
Daniel stepped forward.
“Say that again,” he said quietly.
Margaret looked at him, and for once, she seemed afraid.
Anna, I told myself.
My name.
My life.
My voice.
“You don’t get to rewrite what happened,” I said. “You hurt me because you could. And now you are going to tell the police everything you know.”
Margaret laughed nervously. “You think they will protect you?”
Daniel’s phone buzzed.
He looked at it.
Then his face turned pale.
“What?” I asked.
He showed me the screen.
A photo of Eli and Noah.
They were in their crib.
Taken minutes ago.
Below it was one message.
May you like
COME HOME ALONE, DANIEL. OR THE TWINS DIE.
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