The only reason I’m giving you this information is so that you continue to monitor both of these cases. Kiddish’s son is back at it. After his father “disappeared”, Mark Kiddish took over the consulting business, including the “cleaning” part of it. He had been working with his dad for years, so we knew that would happen.

Someone out there knows that Olivia is still alive, but it does not appear that Jack’s identity has been compromised. These people have hired Mark to clean up the loose ends that his father left behind. My guess is it’s the same people who hired his father all those years ago. Part of me thinks they were never off this case.

They think that Olivia knows where the incriminating documents are that Jack left behind, hidden. This information could implicate hundreds of powerful people. Help her. Please. That way, my death wasn’t in vain. I beg you. Do the right thing.

I’m proud of you, son. Carry on the business as I would have.

Love,

Dad

Alexander looked at the letter. He had so many questions, but there was nobody to answer them. Then, something caught his eye. He grabbed the envelope and was able to make out script on the flap that was written in almost white ink. If the envelope wasn’t so faded, he never would have noticed it.

There is a safe room installed in my office. You may have found that already. If not, go there. It will give you the rest of the information you’re looking for.

His heart raced. Safe room? he thought to himself. “Fuck!” he shouted, knowing exactly what his father was referring to. Alexander always thought that the room contained company files from before its move to a paperless system. “Martin,” he spat into the phone. “Bring the car around. I need to go to the office immediately.”

Within ten minutes, Alexander ascended the twenty-nine stories to his office. It was a Sunday so his non-essential office staff was not working, giving him plenty of privacy. He dashed down the hall, frantically punching the code into his office door. After swinging the door open, he ran to the bathroom, opening a small door on the far side of the tiled room.

He looked down at the stairs, knowing that all the answers lay just below him. Taking a deep breath, he descended the flight of stairs. He ran into a large metal door and quickly punched in his code, worried that it wouldn’t work. He breathed a sigh of relief when the door beeped, allowing him access. The sight before his eyes was overwhelming.

He entered the large reinforced steel room that seemed to take up the entire floor between the twenty-eighth and twenty-ninth story of the building. All along the walls, banker’s boxes were stacked high.

Upon closer inspection, he realized that the boxes contained items from Olivia’s past. His father had erased her life, but kept everything in those boxes.

Alexander grabbed a box and lifted the lid. He gasped. “Mr. Bear.”

CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE

SCARED

“NOW, OLIVIA, WHAT IS it about Alexander’s declaration of love that scares you?” Dr. Greenstein asked.

“What makes you think I’m scared?” she responded as she glanced out the window. It was a dismal Tuesday in March. There was a mixed precipitation falling. Olivia hated that type of weather. It made her angry. Either snow or rain, but don’t do this in the middle bullshit. It seemed that everything irritated her lately. Well, at least since she ran from Alexander Sunday morning after he said the three words that scared her most.

“Well, it’s fairly obvious, isn’t it? You’re trying to find some excuse to not have to say those words back. Olivia, do you remember the last person you said ‘I love you’ to?”

Olivia searched her brain for a memory of saying those words. She was coming up short. She couldn’t remember. It wasn’t the day of the crash. When her father had told her that he and her mother loved her, instead of responding in kind, she simply said, “I know”.

“I can’t remember,” she said quietly.

“Olivia, I want to try something.” Dr. Greenstein got up and pushed a button, causing the blinds to drop on the windows, shielding all the light from the room except for a dim lamp on the desk. “I want you to lie down and close your eyes.”

Olivia looked at the doctor like she was crazy.

“Please, Olivia. Humor me.”

“Fine,” she exhaled as she lay down.

“Now, I want you to just breathe for a little bit. Inhale and exhale.” Dr. Greenstein’s voice had changed to a soft singing-type sound.

“Just keep breathing and focus on that alone. Shut the rest of the world out. Forget about everything. It’s just you and me, okay? Inhale. Exhale.” Olivia relaxed, listening to the doctor’s gentle voice.

“Now, let’s go back for a minute. What do you remember about growing up? Before the crash, what memory stands out?”

“I remember playing the piano with my mom. I remember singing with her.”

“And what songs did you sing?”

“A lot of Beatles songs. My mother loved the Beatles.”

“Do you remember any of the songs you would sing with your mom?”

“I’m trying.”

“Picture yourself sitting at the piano with your mother.”

“I am.”

“Look at the piano keys. What notes is she playing? Can you visualize it?”

Olivia held her hands up as if she was playing the piano, tracing where her mother’s hands would have been, humming along to a slow, haunting version of If I Fell, the memory of singing the song while her mother played the piano making her smile. She was singing that song to someone…someone other than her mother.

“Good, Olivia. Good. So you can remember. Now, even if you don’t remember telling your mother that you loved her, do you remember feeling the love you had for her at that moment?”

“I remember singing that song for someone else… There was someone else in the room…a boy with green eyes. I loved him… I know I did, but I just can’t say those words.”

“Do you think the reason you’re so scared of telling Alexander you love him is because you regret not telling your parents, and this green-eyed boy that you’ve been dreaming of, that you loved them?”

“But that was just in a dream. The only memories I have of my life before the crash come from my dreams.”

“Are they just dreams, though? Okay, sit up, dear.”

She sat up and the doctor opened the shades, the grayish light filtering into the room once more. “Olivia, when we go through a traumatic event, our bodies try to protect themselves. That includes the brain. You experienced a traumatic event when your parents died. Your brain tried to protect you by shutting out certain memories. Now your brain is showing you more about what happened that day and before, telling you it’s okay for you to face these fears of yours. I need you to start doing that.”