Kathy resumed work on that fateful morning and her agenda for that day was to start off her investigation proper on the lady who miquel claimed was his mother.
She decided to first have a conversation with the lady herself so she could figure out if there was anything wrong.
While she was making plans to go to her office, the door opened and she walked in.
Arielle walked in and strolled to Miquels table and took a seat there. Kathy couldn't hide her shock as she didn't understand what the lady was thinking and all she did was stand mouth agape.
After what seemed like a minute, Kathy finally recovered her self . "Good morning ma'am " Kathy said almost in a whisper as she moved across to the other side of the table unsure of what was going on.
Arielle watched as the young lady stood in confusion, so she decided to come to her aid.
Arielle said with calm tone not wanting to get Kathy even the more uncomfortable.
"How are you dear?" She said wearing a wide smile which helped ease the tension in the room.
Kathy was starting to feel better so she returned the smile and replied her. "I'm very well ma'am, how are you doing?" It was obvious she had regained her composure.
"Quit the ma'am tag, You can call me mom, and yes I'm doing well." Arielle kept her smile on, on noticing that Kathy had relaxed a bit. Then she continued speaking.
"Miquel won't be coming to the office today, so I'll handle his schedules for today. Let me know what I have to do today. " Arielle said and then adjusted slightly on her seat.
Kathy quickly eased up and replied calmly "Alright maam… I'll be right back." Calling Arielle mom was something she was going to have to learn as she hadn't called anyone that in about 14 years.
Arielle gave a half smile and then motioned for her to go on, so Kathy went over to her table and began arranging the documents.
****************
Miquel sat eyes closed on one of his sofas in his well lit living room meditating. It had been 14 years since the death of his parents and it was beginning to seem as though with every passing year their death became even more mysterious.
He remembered the information he got that day his parents died. The pilot had informed the press that day that it was only the Dorner's that were terribly affected by the crash and he suspected that the reason was because their seats were tampered with.
He couldn't get the thought off his mind and he was determined to get to the root of the matter whatever it was going to cost him.
He told aunt Arielle he was going to visit his doctor for his regular checkup but honestly all he wanted to do was just sit eyes closed and think things through.
After what seemed like 30 minutes, he got up and headed up the stairs to the private room. It was a single room in his house that he had locked since his parents death and he only entered it once every year.
Inside the room, he had kept all of his parents belongings that they left behind on that very day they died and he only visited it on their death day every single year.
Miquel suddenly felt a nudge to go into that room. The quest for answers was starting to swallow him up and he needed to act quickly.
He walked up the stairs humming loudly to himself as a streak of tears ran down his cheeks. He got to the room and his fingers trembled as he placed them on the lock in a bid to open it.
As soon as he opened the door a wave of hurt hit them like a wind and instantly he broke down in a silent sob.
His eyes were fixed on a photo of his parents, standing tall and looking happy in front of their favourite car. It was the very same car that had taken them to the airport on that fateful day. It had looked so shiny and new in the photo.
How could something that looked so new and happy, end up being the very thing that took his parents away from him? He had never understood how that worked. He didn't want to understand either.
He walked over to the bed in the room and collapsed on it. His eyes were closed but his mind was still thinking, and there was a lot of questions. Too many to even try and process at this point.
Just as he was about to give up on trying to work out what it was that was bothering him, he noticed something in the corner of the room. It was an old journal that he'd never seen before.
It was worn, it's cover crumpled and torn in places. It was covered in dust, and it was obvious that it had been there for a long time. What could it be?
He walked over slowly and picked it up, letting the dust drift off it onto the floor. It felt heavy in his hands, as if there was a lot of information in it. He looked down and saw his own name, scrawled across the cover in his mother's handwriting.
He gasped as he realized that this must have been his mother's journal, written just for him. He opened it up carefully, a sense of nervousness overwhelming him. He didn't know what he was about to read, but he knew it would be important.
He sat down and took a deep breath, before slowly starting to read the words on the page.
"Dear Miquel, if you're reading this then that means that I'm no longer here."
The words punched him in the stomach and he took another deep breath. He hadn't expected to feel so much emotion just by reading those words. He looked at the next line.
"I wanted to leave you something that would help you understand the mystery behind our deaths. I know you'll never understand completely, but I hope this will at least help you a little. I love you Miquel, and I always will." On hearing this, his suspicions began to make more sense.
Miquel let a tear run down his cheek as he read those words. He could hear his mother's voice in his head as he read them, as if she were speaking to him. He took a moment to compose himself, before continuing.
As Miquel continued reading, the story got even more heartbreaking. His mother had written about how she and his father had gotten involved in something they shouldn't have, something that had put them in danger.
She had been too scared to go to the police, and she felt like they couldn't trust anyone. She had been terrified for her son, and had written the journal to try and explain everything to him. She had hidden it in the house, hoping that he would find it if anything happened to them.
As Miquel read on, he started to realize that his mother had been telling the truth. His parents had been murdered, and the people who had done it were still out there.
He felt a deep sense of anger and sadness, but he also felt something else. A sense of purpose. He knew that he had to do something about this, he couldn't just sit back and let the people who had done this get away with it.
His mother had left him a journal for a reason, and he was determined to make sure that her death was not in vain. He vowed to find the people responsible and make them pay.
Miquel put the journal down and looked around the room. There were some other things there that his mother had left for him.
One of them was a small box, which he opened carefully. Inside were some pictures, and a key. He turned the key over in his hand, trying to figure out what it was for. Then he saw something on the back of one of the pictures.
It was a street address, written in his mother's handwriting. Miquel put the key and the pictures into his pocket, and left the room. He knew what he had to do.