If I Should Die

There was no laptop or desktop computer in his room. Did he have one in his backpack or car? Sean searched the desk. Every drawer was cluttered-magazines, pens, junk. Except the only thing in the bottom drawer was a baby-blue box.

Sean hesitated only a moment before he opened the box. Inside were letters in flowery handwriting, and for a split second he thought they were love letters.

And in one sense, they were. From a mother to her son.

Sean felt uncomfortable reading the personal letters, all dated more than five years ago. But he quickly got the sense of why Ricky’s mom had written them.

She had known she was dying.

When Ricky was eight, she was diagnosed with breast cancer. She wrote a letter every couple of months to her son. First, she had surgery. Later, the cancer returned and she started chemotherapy, but stopped after only one treatment. The tone of the last few letters changed dramatically.

The last one was dated December 2, five years ago.

Dearest Ricky,

I visited your father today. I know you will be angry. I’m sorry it has to be this way, more than anything I want to see you grow up, go to college, find a girl to love, raise a family. You are my bright light as I wait for my Lord to take me.

My time is coming. When you get this I will be gone. I love you more than anything on earth, and I will do everything to protect you. That is why I had to see your father.

I never lied to you about your dad. People say horrid things about him. Many of them are true. But he never hurt me, not once, and he loves us. With me, he was gentle and kind and sweet. Most people never saw that side of him. Forgiveness is not easy, harder I suspect for a twelve-year-old man. But I forgave your dad. I hope, someday, you can do the same.

My brother will be your legal guardian. I’ve already filled out the paperwork and your father signed it. Jimmy is a good man, loyal and trustworthy. He will do everything to protect you. Anything to keep you away from the Swains.

Your father told the monster that he would destroy her if anyone hurt you. He always said he had a card to play if he had to, and for you and you alone, he’s willing to use it. You need to understand what this means. If your father is forced to reveal the evidence he has hidden all these years, the monster will be locked up for life, but your father will be killed in prison as a traitor. He will do this because he loves you. He will do anything to protect you.

If I had any money, Jimmy could take you far away from here, give you a different name. But you’ll be safe here. There are people watching out for you.

I am not scared of dying, sweet son. I have put my soul on the mercy of my Lord. I know you will cry for me. My only regret in dying is not being with you. But do not mourn me. In Heaven, there is no pain. There is no suffering, no betrayal, no monsters. There is only pure love. As you read this, know that I am at peace.

Do not be sad long, my son. My love will be with you forever.

— Your mother, now and always

Sean read the letter twice, committing it to memory. Most kids who lost a parent didn’t have a letter.

For Sean, it had been so sudden he didn’t believe it. It felt as if his mother-both his parents-had been ripped from him. No good-byes, no apologies, no peace.

Sean pushed aside his anger about his parents’ plane crash and took a picture of the letter with his cell phone.

Sean skimmed the rest of the letters, but nothing revealed the identity of the monster she mentioned in her last letter.

Folded at the bottom of the box was her marriage certificate and Ricky’s birth certificate. Her name was Abigail Benson.

Her husband had been Paul Swain.

Ricky’s father was Paul Swain, a convicted killer.

Sean put the box back exactly as he’d found it and sent both Patrick and Duke a note about what he’d uncovered. Since Patrick was heading to Albany tonight, Duke could get answers faster, Sean hoped. The letter was written a year after Swain went to prison, and Sean suspected that what was happening in Spruce Lake today related directly to Paul Swain’s drug-running days.

There are people watching out for you.

Sean knew who had the answer to his questions. First, he needed to find Ricky Swain; then he’d pay a visit to Paul Swain.

NINETEEN

Lucy sat alone in the cabin and stared at the picture of Victoria Sheffield on Sean’s laptop.

She looked like the woman Lucy had seen dead in the mine. Blond hair, long and wavy, five feet six inches tall and one hundred thirty-five pounds. She’d been missing for just over four months, since January second, and if alive, would turn twenty-eight at the end of the month.

Lucy had seen the woman for only a few minutes. Was she now imprinting someone with a similar appearance? Could she trust her memory?

Victoria Sheffield’s file was sparse. She had been last seen in Albany, New York, but it didn’t list where specifically, nor did it state what she was last seen wearing or driving.

None of the other women had caught Lucy’s eye. The shape of the face different, the hair too dark, the nose wrong. But Victoria … Lucy was ninety percent certain it was her.

It would fit. She went missing in early January, could easily have been preserved in the mine without any decomposition, yet she wasn’t dressed for the weather. No visible sign of what might have caused her death, but she could have been suffocated, poisoned, any number of things that would leave no obvious external marks.

The Albany FBI office had issued the alert, which was odd-standard missing persons were usually issued by local law enforcement. She dialed the 800 number. As soon as she reported that she may have information regarding Victoria Sheffield, her call was transferred.

A minute later, a deep voice came on the line. “Ms. Kincaid?”

“Yes.”

“I’m the assistant special agent in charge, Brian Candela. You saw Victoria Sheffield?” His voice was gruff and to the point.

The number-two guy in the Albany FBI field office was taking her call, before an agent even verified her story? That alone told her this was an extremely important case for the FBI. Her curiosity was definitely piqued.

“Yes, sir. I believe so.”

“Believing you saw her and seeing her are not the same thing. Either you saw Agent Sheffield or you didn’t.”

Lucy sat up straighter. “Agent Sheffield?”

“I’m not at liberty to discuss the circumstances surrounding Agent Sheffield’s disappearance. Where did you think you saw her?”

“I’m on vacation in the Adirondacks, in a small community called Spruce Lake on the edge of the state park. On Wednesday, I was in the Kelley Mine outside of town and saw a dead body that matches Victoria Sheffield’s description. I reported it, but when authorities arrived the next morning, the body had gone missing.”

“Which agency did you report to?”

“Sheriff’s Department. I don’t think the responding officer took my report seriously. But I assure you, it’s not a prank. I’m an agent-in-training scheduled to report to Quantico later this summer.”

Candela asked, “Is there someone I can call to verify your identity?”

“Special Agent Noah Armstrong.” She gave Candela her training supervisor’s office line and cell phone