Free True Deceit (Blindsided Book 1) by A.J. Carella Page A

asleep before going downstairs. He hadn’t been able to get the box or its contents out of his mind and he wanted to be able to examine them when no one else was around.
    Creeping out of his bedroom he started down the stairs, pausing and listening for any movement when one of the floorboards let out a loud groan. Satisfied that the noise hadn’t woken her, he carried on down the stairs and into the living room. It was a clear night and the moon shining through the window lit the room as he walked over to the desk. Once there, he flicked on the small desk lamp, and opened the secret drawer, retrieving the little wooden box.
    His stomach was in a knot as he lifted the lid and withdrew the letter he’d been reading when Sarah arrived that afternoon. Though not dated, it was clearly old. The once white paper now had a tinge of beige, and the blue ink of the flowing script was faded.
     
    As promised, an account has been set up for you and the boy and you will receive monthly payments until he is eighteen years old.
    I will be true to my word and you will not hear from me again during your lifetime.
     
    The words were just as shocking on their second reading and the implication hit him hard. His mom had lied when she’d told him she didn’t know anything about his father. This letter couldn’t be from anyone else. But why lie about it?
    Putting the letter to one side he once again reached into the box. There was one more letter, a piece of paper with details of a bank account and a business card. The name on the card read ‘Patrick Brady’. Is that my father? He turned the card over in his hand, noticing that there was a number written on the back. A telephone number. Was there any chance that it would work after all this time?
    Slipping the card into the pocket of his robe, he pulled the second letter from the box. This one was different. It was still in an envelope and had his name on the front. He ran his finger over the words, wondering when his mom had written them. It had to have been a long time ago as the pale blue of the ink told him that this too was old. Carefully he opened the envelope and slid out the single sheet of paper.
     
    My dearest Michael, it began. The words brought a lump to his throat. He could almost hear her voice speaking them and the pain of his loss washed over him.
     
    If you are reading this letter, then I have gone. I have only ever done what I thought was best for you. I have loved you from the very moment I found out that I was carrying you, and will continue to love you long after I am gone. Whatever happens, please remember that.
    Your father’s name is Patrick Brady. I’m so sorry that I lied to you but it was easier than explaining the truth. As you got older, you stopped asking and I felt it was better to leave the past behind.
    Now though I am gone and it is time for you to find out where you come from.
     
    Your ever loving mom.
     
    Tears were sliding down his face now and blurring the words and he had to wipe his hand across his face so that he could keep reading.
    A loud creak of a floorboard above his head startled him. Quickly he put everything back in the box and slipped it back into the hidden draw.
    “Mike, is that you?” Sarah called down from the top of the stairs.
    “Yes, sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you. Go back to bed.”
    “Everything okay?”
    “Just getting a drink,” he called up, going into the kitchen and getting a glass of water.
    “Okay, goodnight,” she called and he heard her go back to her room.
    Leaving the unwanted glass of water on the counter he went back upstairs to bed, knowing full well that he was not going to be able to sleep. Patrick Brady. My father.

Eighteen
    The state mental hospital was a couple of hours’ drive away so they’d decided to leave early the following morning to go and see Samantha.
    “Do you know where this place is?” Sarah asked, sipping on the hot coffee she’d bought when they’d stopped for gas before