Chapter 13 - THE OTHER DREW
The letter was nine years old.
On the front, Thomas had written:
FOR DREW WHEN HE IS OLD ENOUGH.
Peter stared at the name.
“Could it be coincidence?”
Detective Quinn nodded.
“It could.”
“Is it?”
“We’re checking.”
Bethany explained why she brought the letter.
She found it hidden inside Thomas’s journal box.
She saw the name Drew.
Then saw news reports about Reena’s six-year-old son.
She panicked.
She believed Thomas might have known the child somehow.
The dates made no sense.
Drew Calder had been born years after Thomas died.
Rachel opened the letter.
The contents clarified part of the mystery.
Drew,
I don’t know whether I will ever get to meet you.
I don’t even know whether Reena is telling the truth about where you are.
But if you exist, none of this is your fault.
Peter frowned.
“If you exist?”
Thomas wrote that Reena had once told him she gave birth to a son at nineteen.
The baby was supposedly adopted privately.
She refused to discuss it.
During arguments she sometimes threatened to find the boy and “start over with someone who actually needs me.”
Thomas did not know whether the child was real.
He wrote the letter anyway.
The original Drew would now be roughly fifteen.
Peter sat back.
“Does Reena have another child?”
Quinn’s investigation discovered a sealed birth record.
At nineteen, Reena Monroe had indeed given birth.
Male child.
Father not listed.
The adoption was private.
The boy’s first name at birth.
Andrew.
Drew.
Peter felt a strange discomfort.
Aaron had named his son Drew.
Had Reena chosen the name?
Yes.
Peter remembered.
Aaron wanted Nathan.
Reena insisted on Drew.
Another hidden past.
But the mystery did not directly relate to Aaron’s murder.
Or so they thought.
The adoption agency records showed the child had been adopted by a couple named Harris.
Current location.
Colorado.
Investigators contacted the adoptive parents discreetly.
Their son, now sixteen, knew he was adopted.
His name was Andrew Harris.
He had never met Reena.
He wanted no contact.
Peter felt relieved.
The boy did not deserve to be dragged into a murder trial.
Then Andrew’s adoptive father mentioned something.
Three years earlier, shortly after Aaron died, Reena had contacted the family.
She asked about meeting Andrew.
They declined.
She continued sending messages.
Eventually they threatened legal action.
“What did she want?”
Quinn asked.
“She said she had recently lost her husband and realized family mattered.”
“Did she mention money?”
“No.”
“Did she mention Drew and Lily?”
“She sent photographs.”
Peter’s stomach tightened.
Reena had been trying to reconnect with her first child while isolating Aaron’s children from everyone else.
Quinn found one particularly disturbing message.
Reena wrote:
I finally have the resources to give Andrew the life he should have had.
Resources.
Aaron’s insurance money.
The children’s trust.
Peter felt ill.
But Andrew remained peripheral to the criminal case.
Prosecutors sealed the information to protect him unless Reena somehow made it relevant.
The focus returned to trial preparation.
Months passed.
Drew’s cast came off.
He cried when the doctor removed it.
Not from pain.
Fear.
Peter held his hand.
The doctor let Drew touch every tool before using it.
When the cast finally opened, Drew stared at his thin leg.
“It looks weird.”
Peter smiled.
“So does your hair every morning.”
Drew laughed.
The sound filled the room.
He walked with assistance for the first time a week later.
Lily clapped as though he had won an Olympic medal.
“You did it.”
Drew grinned.
“I did.”
Peter filmed the moment.
Later that night he watched it alone.
He imagined sending it to Aaron.
Look at your boy.
He wanted that impossible conversation so badly.
Instead, he saved the video to a folder called FOR DAD.
Drew discovered the folder weeks later.
“What’s that?”
Peter hesitated.
“Videos I think your dad would’ve liked.”
Drew sat beside him.
They watched Lily blowing bubbles.
Drew walking.
The blanket fort.
A pancake shaped badly like a dinosaur.
Drew smiled.
“Can we make more?”
“Yes.”
“For Daddy?”
“Yes.”
Healing did not mean forgetting.
Peter began understanding that.
Meanwhile, Rachel prepared witnesses.
Dana.
Mercer.
Mark.
Bethany.
Financial experts.
Medical experts.
Police.
Forensic interview specialists.
Peter himself.
Victor Shaw’s strategy became obvious.
He planned to argue that everyone except Reena had motives to lie.
Mark wanted a lighter sentence.
Dana wanted immunity.
Mercer wanted to save his career.
Peter wanted custody and money.
Even Aaron could not be cross-examined.
Rachel warned Peter.
“They will attack you.”
“Fine.”
“They will suggest you hated Reena.”
“I do now.”
“Don’t say that on the stand.”
Peter smiled grimly.
“I know.”
“They may accuse you of wanting Aaron’s share of the company.”
“I paid fair value.”
“We can prove that.”
“They may bring up arguments between you and Aaron.”
“We had them.”
“Don’t minimize.”
“I won’t.”
“Truth is easier to defend than perfection.”
Peter remembered Aaron.
Imperfect.
Stubborn.
Funny.
Sometimes careless.
Still his brother.
Reena’s defense could attack Aaron without changing what she did.
Then Mark’s attorney requested another meeting.
Mark had remembered where Reena hid one final piece of evidence.
A voice recorder.
Not Aaron’s.
Reena’s.
“She recorded people,” Mark explained.
“Why?”
“Leverage.”
“Arguments.”
“Confessions.”
“Anything useful.”
“Where?”
“In a floor safe at Celeste’s old rental property.”
Police obtained a warrant.
The rental had been vacant for two years.
Beneath loose flooring they found a small safe.
Inside were cash.
Jewelry.
Fake identification.
And three digital recorders.
One contained conversations with Mark.
One contained conversations with Celeste.
The third contained Aaron.
Peter listened only because Rachel warned that he might hear it at trial.
The recording began during an argument.
Aaron’s voice.
“You’re hurting Drew.”
Reena.
“I disciplined him.”
“You locked a three-year-old in a basement.”
“For ten minutes.”
“He was screaming.”
“He screams when he doesn’t get cookies.”
“Don’t lie to me.”
A pause.
Then Reena said, “What are you going to do?”
“I’m taking him and Lily to Peter’s.”
“You think Peter wants them?”
“I know he does.”
“You really are stupid.”
Aaron laughed bitterly.
“You’ve been sending those messages.”
Silence.
Then Reena’s voice changed.
“What messages?”
“You know exactly.”
“You’re paranoid.”
“I talked to Peter.”
Peter stopped breathing.
Aaron had contacted him.
When?
The recording continued.
“Peter called the company office.”
“He said he never sent any of it.”
Reena said nothing.
Aaron continued.
“You’re done.”
“I’m calling a lawyer tomorrow.”
“You’re not taking my children.”
“They’re my children too.”
“If you try, I’ll tell everyone you hit me.”
“You know I’ve never touched you.”
“I know.”
That answer chilled Peter.
Reena continued.
“But who do you think they’ll believe?”
Aaron said quietly, “You’re sick.”
Then came a crash.
The recorder moved.
Reena spoke again.
“You should be more careful with that heart of yours.”
The recording ended.
Rachel stared at Peter.
“That is powerful evidence.”
Peter felt sick.
“It’s Aaron begging her not to hurt his son.”
“Yes.”
“She kept it.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because she thought it proved she could control him.”
Peter looked away.
Reena had preserved her own cruelty as leverage.
The floor safe also contained a document.
A draft letter.
Never sent.
Written by Reena.
It was addressed to Peter.
Pete,
Aaron has become dangerous.
He is paranoid and unstable.
I’m afraid he may hurt the children.
If something happens, please remember I tried to protect them.
The date on the file metadata was five days before Aaron died.
Peter stared.
“She was preparing the story.”
Rachel nodded.
“She wanted you to believe Aaron was dangerous before he died.”
Peter read the draft again.
Then he noticed another paragraph.
If Aaron dies during one of his episodes, please do not blame yourself.
You tried to help him, but some people cannot be saved.
Peter closed his eyes.
She had written Aaron’s obituary before killing him.
Trial began three weeks later.
Jury selection took four days.
Opening statements came on Monday morning.
Rachel stood before twelve jurors.
“This case is about a woman who discovered that fear could isolate people faster than walls.”
Peter listened.
“She isolated her husband from his brother.”
“She isolated children from family.”
“She isolated truth from anyone who might recognize it.”
“And when Aaron Calder tried to leave, the defendant decided a natural-looking death would solve every problem at once.”
Victor Shaw rose after her.
“This case is built on criminals, frightened memories, altered medical records, and a grieving brother who needs someone to blame.”
Peter stared straight ahead.
Shaw pointed subtly toward him.
“Tragedy is not proof.”
“No matter how painful.”
Then Reena looked at Peter.
She smiled again.
During the first week, prosecution witnesses established Drew and Lily’s condition.
The photographs of the basement silenced the courtroom.
Drew did not attend.
Peter was grateful.
On Friday, Rachel called Dr. Warren.
He described Drew’s old fracture.
Malnutrition.
Bruising.
Defense challenged him.
“Doctor, can you say with certainty who caused the fracture?”
“No.”
“Can you say my client intentionally starved the children?”
“I can describe their medical condition.”
“So no.”
“I can say a three-year-old arrived significantly undernourished after being removed from your client’s home.”
Victor Shaw moved on.
Outside court, Peter received a message from an unknown number.
DO NOT LET DREW TESTIFY.
He showed Quinn.
She traced it.
Prepaid phone.
No registration.
Another message arrived.
AARON TRIED TO WARN YOU ABOUT PETER.
Peter stared.
“What does that even mean?”
Then a photograph appeared.
Aaron and Peter arguing outside Calder Residential.
Date stamped six months before Aaron died.
Someone had been following them.
The next message contained one sentence.
YOUR BROTHER WAS AFRAID OF YOU TOO.
Peter looked at Quinn.
“Reena’s in jail.”
“Yes.”
“Mark’s in custody.”
“Yes.”
“Celeste is in custody.”
“Yes.”
“Then who is sending these?”
Quinn had no immediate answer.
That evening investigators enlarged the photograph.
In the reflection of Aaron’s truck window, they could see the person holding the camera.
A man.
Tall.
Silver hair.
Peter recognized him.
Dr. Mercer.
May you like
And suddenly the frightened doctor who claimed he merely made bad decisions looked less like a coward.
He looked like someone who had been watching Aaron long before the morning he died.
