Page 102 of Not a Word

McCabe said, “Speaker.”

Holden looked at the detective, took a second to consider her request, then tapped the button on the screen that would allow her to hear a conversation.

“Hello?” a woman said.

McCabe recognized the voice as Catherine Chartwell’s.

“Who the fuck was Leah Kennard?” Holden shouted, the words flying out of his mouth.

“We know who she was,” Catherine said with forced calmness. “Some fling your father was having.”

“Why’d she have pictures of me?”

“What?”

“Hundreds of them! In an album! They—”

“Holden, Holden, slow down! What are you talking about?”

“She calls me Tom!”

Silence at the other end.

“Why’s she call me Tom?” he asked.

There was another short silence before Catherine said, “We’ll have to talk about this. But not now. I’m in the middle of—”

“There’s shots of my graduation! That Montreal trip. And there’s notes scribbled on them, like I miss you and my boy and . . . What’s going on?”

McCabe listened.

“I don’t want to do this on the phone,” Catherine said. “There are things I need to tell you, that I’ve wanted to tell you for a long time, and—”

“My boy! What does that mean?”

“Holden, calm down.”

“Who are you?” he asked.

“What?”

Slowly, deliberately, Holden said again, “Who are you?”

“I’m your mother, Holden.”

“Are you?” he asked, the two words hanging out there like bombs floating through the air, ready to detonate.

Several seconds went by before Catherine said, “We’ve all gone through a terrible thing, Holden. It’s hit you hard. You need to go back to Sharnwood. I’ll set it up. I’ll call them now.”

“I’m not high, Mom. In fact, I don’t think I’ve ever been more sober. Things are starting to get clearer. Clearer than they’ve been in a long time. Is this why it was so easy?”

“What on earth are you talking about?”

“If someone’s not your real son, not your real flesh and blood, does that make it easier to tell them you’d stop loving them?”

A moment of silence at the other end. Then:

“Holden, you might think you’re clearheaded right now, but you’re not. Trust me. I’m your mother. I love you. I’ve always loved you and will always love you. And if I ever said something that suggested otherwise I didn’t mean it and I’m sorry. From the bottom of my heart, I am sorry. Believe me.”