Chapter 5 - THE MAN WHO BROKE MY HEART
I stared at Sarah's message.
Jason Mercer.
The man who had spent four years telling me I was too suspicious.
Too guarded.
Too difficult to love.
The man who cheated on me and acted as though I should be grateful he'd finally told the truth.
His father had helped bury my mother's report.
Daniel watched my expression.
“Emily?”
I handed him the phone.
He read it.
Then looked at me.
“You knew Jason Mercer?”
“He was my boyfriend.”
Daniel became still.
“For how long?”
“Four years.”
“When did you break up?”
“Eight months ago.”
He looked back at the message.
“Did he ever ask about your mother?”
I almost said no.
Then memories began surfacing.
Jason asking why I kept old boxes.
Jason offering to repair my mother's locket.
Jason suggesting we sell the apartment and move somewhere new.
Jason insisting I didn't need to keep “all that old junk.”
My stomach turned.
“He wanted me to get rid of her things.”
Daniel's expression hardened.
“Did you?”
“No.”
“Good.”
I laughed bitterly.
“For once, my stubbornness paid off.”
***
We met Jason the following afternoon.
Not alone.
Sarah arranged an interview at the police station.
Jason arrived wearing a navy sweater and the familiar expression of a man preparing to explain why everything was someone else's fault.
He smiled when he saw me.
“Em.”
I hated how familiar it sounded.
“Don't.”
His smile faded.
Daniel stood near the wall.
Jason noticed him.
His expression changed.
“What is he doing here?”
I folded my arms.
“Answer the questions.”
Sarah began.
“Mr. Mercer, did your father investigate Harbor House?”
Jason looked down.
“I don't know.”
“Did he ever mention Margaret Carter?”
“No.”
I stared at him.
“Jason.”
He looked at me.
“What?”
“Don't lie.”
He sighed.
“Emily, I don't know what you think happened.”
“Your father buried a report my mother filed.”
Jason's jaw tightened.
Sarah leaned forward.
“Did you know about the report?”
Silence.
Then Jason whispered:
“Yes.”
I felt cold.
“When?”
He looked at me.
“Before we met.”
The room seemed to shrink.
“You knew?”
He nodded.
I stared.
“Did you date me because of my mother?”
Jason began crying.
“Not at first.”
I laughed.
It sounded ugly.
“Not at first?”
“My father asked me to keep an eye on you.”
Daniel moved slightly.
Sarah raised one hand.
Jason continued.
“He thought you might have documents.”
“And you stayed with me for four years?”
“I fell in love with you.”
I stared at him.
“No.”
“Emily—”
“You don't get to call that love.”
His face crumpled.
“I made mistakes.”
“You built our relationship on a lie.”
Jason looked away.
Then whispered:
“My father said Margaret Carter stole something from Harbor House.”
“What?”
“A ledger.”
Daniel became still.
“What ledger?”
Jason shook his head.
“I never saw it.”
Sarah leaned forward.
“Where is your father now?”
Jason hesitated.
“Florida.”
“Address?”
“I don't know.”
Sarah studied him.
“Jason.”
He swallowed.
“There's something else.”
I closed my eyes.
Of course there was.
“My father didn't just dismiss Margaret's report.”
Jason looked at me.
“He warned Martin Bennett she was going to testify.”
***
I left the interview room before I started screaming.
Daniel followed.
I stood in the hallway, shaking.
“Four years.”
He remained silent.
“Four years, Daniel.”
“I know.”
“He knew things about me nobody else knew.”
My voice broke.
“He was there when I got promoted. When my aunt died. When I thought I was going to lose the bookstore.”
Daniel stepped closer.
“Emily.”
I looked up.
“How do I know any of it was real?”
He didn't answer immediately.
Then he said:
“You don't have to decide that today.”
I stared.
He continued.
“You only have to decide what you want to do next.”
I began crying.
Not because Jason had betrayed me again.
Because I was tired.
Tired of discovering that the people closest to me had been watching me for reasons I never understood.
Daniel waited.
Then quietly asked:
“May I hug you?”
I nodded.
He held me carefully.
And for the first time in months, I allowed myself to cry without apologizing.
***
That evening, I returned to Maple Street Books.
The store was empty.
I walked between the shelves.
Touched the worn spines.
Breathed in the familiar smell of paper and coffee.
This place had always been safe.
Then I noticed something beneath the register.
A small package.
Wrapped in brown paper.
My name written across it.
Inside was an old photograph.
My mother stood beside a teenage girl.
The girl had dark hair.
Gray eyes.
A small scar above her eyebrow.
On the back, my mother had written:
HANNAH — SAFE FOR NOW.
I stared.
Then turned the photograph over again.
There was an address.
A town in Vermont.
And a date.
Three years after Hannah disappeared.
She had survived.
At least that long.
My phone rang.
Daniel.
I answered.
“Emily?”
“Daniel, I found something.”
His voice changed.
“What?”
“A photograph.”
“Of whom?”
I looked at the girl beside my mother.
“Your sister.”
A long silence.
Then he whispered:
“Is she alive?”
I swallowed.
May you like
“I think she was.”
---
