THE SON THEY BURIED WAS THEIR ONLY HEIR

Chapter Forty Five: The Witness Who Disappeared

Benedict arrived at the address just before sunrise.

The house stood at the end of a quiet road, surrounded by tall trees and an iron fence that had begun to rust.

Mara had warned him.

Samuel Cross doesn't trust strangers.

Benedict understood why.

A man who had disappeared for twenty-four years had every reason to be careful.

Damian stopped beside him.

"Do you want me to come in?"

"No."

"You're sure?"

Benedict nodded.

If he's already run away from his family once, then having two Ashcrofts show up at his door might just scare him off again.

Damian looked at him.

"Then be careful."

Benedict walked toward the house.

He knocked.

Nothing.

He knocked again.

Still nothing.

Then the door opened.

An older man stood behind it.

His hair was gray.

His face was lean.

He had a long scar that went across his left hand.

Benedict's eyes immediately went to it.

The man noticed.

"You shouldn't have come."

"You're Samuel Cross."

The man's expression hardened.

"I haven't used that name in twenty-four years."

"But it is your name."

Samuel looked beyond Benedict.

"Are you alone?"

"Yes."

Samuel studied him for several seconds.

Then opened the door wider.

"Come inside."

The house was almost empty.

There were no family photographs.

No decorations.

Nothing that suggested Samuel had ever wanted to be remembered.

Benedict sat opposite him.

"I know you worked for Ashcroft."

Samuel said nothing.

"I know you were there before the fire."

Still nothing.

"I know you disappeared afterward."

Samuel finally looked at him.

"You've been digging."

"Yes."

"You should stop."

"Why?"

"Because some truths don't make people free."

Benedict leaned forward.

"They make them dangerous."

Samuel's eyes narrowed.

"Who told you that?"

"No one."

"Then you're learning."

Benedict placed a photograph on the table.

Isabella.

Samuel stared at it.

For the first time, a crack appeared in the wall he had built around himself, and his usual guarded look was replaced by something else.

"You found her."

Benedict's pulse quickened.

"You knew where she went?"

Samuel looked away.

"I knew where she was."

"Is she alive?"

"I don't know."

Benedict studied him.

"You were protecting her."

Samuel didn't answer.

"Who was the child?"

Samuel's eyes returned to the photograph.

"Her son."

"Was he the Ashcroft heir?"

Samuel hesitated.

"That's what they feared."

"That's not what I asked."

Samuel leaned back.

"The boy had a claim."

"To what?"

"The Ashcroft inheritance."

Benedict's jaw tightened.

"Who was his father?"

Samuel looked at him for a long moment.

Then said,

"I was never told."

Benedict frowned.

That's the third time I've heard that response.

"Because it's true."

"But you knew Isabella."

"Yes."

"You protected her."

"Yes."

"You protected the child."

Samuel looked down at his scarred hand.

"Yes."

"Then you knew why they wanted him hidden."

"I knew enough."

Benedict waited.

Samuel finally spoke.

"Isabella believed someone inside the Ashcroft family wanted the boy dead."

Benedict's expression changed.

"Dead?"

"She didn't trust anyone."

"Not even Victor?"

"Especially Victor."

That surprised him.

"Why?"

"Because Victor knew about the child."

"But he didn't know who the father was."

Samuel looked at him.

"Victor knew more than he admitted."

Benedict leaned closer.

"What?"

Samuel shook his head.

"You should ask him yourself."

"I already have."

"And?"

"He lied."

Samuel's eyes darkened.

You're probably aware of the sort of people we're talking about then.

Benedict took out his phone.

He then showed Samuel a picture of the document that said who would take care of him.

"Do you recognize this?"

Samuel looked at it.

His face changed.

"Where did you get that?"

"The eastern passage."

"You shouldn't have found it."

"Who wrote it?"

Samuel didn't answer.

"Daniel?"

"No."

"Isabella?"

"No."

"Then who?"

Samuel stood and walked toward the window.

"That document was prepared because the boy needed legal protection."

"From the Ashcrofts?"

"From anyone who wanted to claim him."

Benedict stared at him.

"Who was the designated guardian?"

Samuel turned.

"The person who could keep him safe."

"Name."

Samuel shook his head.

"I can't."

"You've hidden for twenty-four years."

"Because I made a promise."

"To whom?"

"Isabella."

Benedict stood.

"She's gone."

Samuel looked at him.

"That doesn't mean promises disappear."

Silence.

Then Benedict asked the question that had followed him for days.

"Who took the child?"

Samuel's face became unreadable.

"You're not ready for that answer."

"Try me."

"The woman who took him wasn't the enemy."

Benedict froze.

"Clara said the same thing."

Samuel frowned.

"Clara is alive?"

"Yes."

"Then she knows."

"She knows the child went to St. Raphael's."

Samuel nodded.

"That was only the beginning."

Benedict's eyes narrowed.

"What happened afterward?"

Samuel looked at the floor.

"I was supposed to collect him."

"By whose order?"

"The family."

"Did you?"

"No."

"Why?"

By the time I got to St. Raphael's, it was too late, someone had already taken him.

Benedict's heart tightened.

"Who?"

Samuel hesitated.

"A woman."

"Her name?"

"I never learned it."

But how could you be so sure she wasn't working against you, that she didn't have some hidden agenda?

"Because she had Isabella's trust."

Benedict stared at him.

"How?"

Samuel walked back to the table.

"Isabella gave her something."

"What?"

"A letter."

"To whom?"

"The woman."

"What's in it?"

"I don't know."

Benedict's frustration grew.

"Then what do you know?"

Samuel looked directly at him.

"I know Isabella didn't want the child raised as an Ashcroft."

Benedict went still.

"Why?"

She thought the family would find him in the end.

"Then why was the child called Ben?"

Samuel's expression changed.

"That wasn't his name."

Benedict's heart skipped.

"What?"

"Ben was a temporary name."

"Who gave it to him?"

"Isabella."

"Why?"

Samuel looked toward the window.

"Because his real name was dangerous."

Benedict stared at him.

"What was his real name?"

Samuel opened his mouth.

Then stopped.

A car passed outside.

His eyes immediately moved toward the window.

Benedict noticed.

"What is it?"

Samuel whispered,

"Someone followed you."

Benedict turned toward the glass.

A dark vehicle was parked across the road.

Samuel's face went pale.

"They found me."

Benedict looked back at him.

"Who?"

Samuel's voice dropped.

"The people who started the fire."

Benedict moved toward the window.

Samuel caught his arm.

"Don't."

"Why?"

"They're waiting for you to look."

Benedict stepped away from the glass.

"Then what do we do?"

Samuel pulled out a drawer and took out an old envelope that had been tucked away.

I held onto it, knowing that someday, someone would show up searching for it.

Benedict took it.

"What is it?"

"Something Daniel gave me."

Benedict opened the envelope.

Inside was a single photograph.

Daniel stood beside a young Isabella.

Between them was a small child.

Benedict stared at the image.

The boy's face was partially hidden.

But around his wrist was the silver bracelet.

The same bracelet was found in the chapel.

There was a sentence written by hand on the back of the photo.

He should never be allowed to return to Ashcroft Manor.

Benedict looked at Samuel.

"Why did Daniel give this to you?"

"Because he knew I would protect the boy."

"Where did the child go after St. Raphael's?"

Samuel's expression tightened.

"I told you. A woman took him."

"Who was she?"

"I don't know."

"Then how did she know where he was?"

"Daniel told her."

Benedict froze.

"Daniel arranged it?"

Samuel nodded.

"He had prepared everything before the fire."

"Then the fire wasn't the beginning."

"No."

Samuel looked toward the door.

"It was the cover."

Benedict understood.

The fire had created chaos.

It had destroyed records.

It made the disappearance seem as though it was a death.

And while everyone was searching the burning manor...

The kid had been taken to a place where nobody would ever think of looking.

"Where?" Benedict asked.

Samuel shook his head.

"Daniel never told me."

A sudden sound came from outside.

The car door slammed.

Samuel's face changed.

"They're coming."

Benedict folded the photograph.

"Where's the back exit?"

Samuel pointed toward the kitchen.

"Go."

"What about you?"

"I've survived twenty-four years."

He gave Benedict a faint smile.

"Don't make me survive another twenty-four."

Benedict hesitated.

He and Samuel made their way to the back door then.

Before leaving, Benedict turned.

"Samuel."

The older man looked at him.

"Who was the child's father?"

Samuel's expression became unreadable.

"I told you I never knew."

Benedict held his gaze.

Samuel finally added,

"But Daniel did."

Then the front door shook.

Someone had reached the house.

Benedict ran.

Behind him, Samuel shouted,

"Find Daniel's daughter!"

Benedict stopped.

"What?"

But Samuel had already disappeared into the house.

Just a moment later, the sound of shattering glass rang out from behind him.

Benedict and Damian reached the car.

Benedict glanced at the photo one more time as they pulled away.

Daniel's daughter.

That was the next piece.

If Daniel had trusted her with the truth...

She might have an idea where he put the last paper.

It's possible that she was aware of the identity of the child's father, maybe she even knew him personally.

Benedict looked at the photograph one more time.

The boy's face remained hidden.

But the bracelet was unmistakable.

The child had survived.

Someone had protected him.

And yet, in some unknown place, there was still someone who knew his exact whereabouts.