“Did you know she was going to die that night?”
A long pause followed.
“No,” she finally said. “But I know who caused the accident.”
I grabbed Jonah’s arm.
“Who?”
His mother began to sob.
“Daniel wasn’t driving the other car.”
She took a shaky breath.
“Your father was.”
Jonah went completely still.
His father had supposedly died of a heart attack seven years earlier.
But according to the letter in my hands, he had been involved in the night my mother died.
And according to Jonah’s mother, he had
survived long enough to tell someone what really happened.
“Where is he?” Jonah demanded.
His mother whispered four words.
“Look inside the cemetery.”
Then the call disconnected.
I stared at Jonah.
The man I loved had spent three years in prison for a crime he didn’t commit.
My mother had died protecting a man who might still be alive.
And the family that had paid me to become Jonah’s wife had hidden the truth from both of us.
Jonah took my hand.
“We’re going to find out what happened.”
I
