Chapter 9
Nobody moved.
I looked around the interview room.
Daniel.
Robert.
Mark.
Detective Simmons.
Detective Reyes.
Me.
That was all.
My hands started shaking.
Simmons took the phone.
“Don’t respond.”
Daniel stood.
“What does that mean?”
Reyes immediately opened the door and looked into the hallway.
“Stay here.”
He disappeared.
Mark stared at Simmons.
“Someone in this room?”
“We don’t know.”
“The message literally says he is in the room.”
“It could be designed to frighten you.”
“It’s working.”
Robert looked terrified.
I stared at the photograph of myself outside my house.
Taken only hours earlier.
Someone had been close.
Close enough to see me.
Close enough to know when we came to the station.
Then I noticed something.
“Wait.”
Simmons looked at me.
“What?”
“The picture.”
She handed me the phone.
I enlarged the image.
Behind me, reflected faintly in the glass of Daniel’s car, was another vehicle.
Dark blue.
Only part of it visible.
Mark leaned closer.
“That looks familiar.”
Daniel frowned.
“What?”
“The bumper sticker.”
We zoomed farther.
The image became grainy.
But the white oval sticker was visible.
A small mountain logo.
Robert whispered, “Steven’s truck.”
Daniel looked at him.
“Uncle Steven drives a black pickup.”
“Now.”
Robert stared at the reflection.
“He used to have a blue Explorer.”
“When?”
“Years ago.”
Mark shook his head.
“That could be anyone.”
Maybe.
But then Daniel remembered something.
“Uncle Steven gave that Explorer to someone.”
Robert looked at him.
“To who?”
“I don’t remember.”
Mark suddenly spoke.
“Ethan.”
Everyone turned.
“Who’s Ethan?” I asked.
“Steven’s son.”
I stared.
“Steven has a son?”
Daniel looked embarrassed.
“Had. Sort of.”
“What does that mean?”
“Ethan disappeared from the family years ago.”
I laughed in disbelief.
“How many relatives have you people never mentioned?”
“This isn’t normal, Sarah.”
“Clearly.”
Robert sat down.
“Ethan is Rebecca’s son.”
My skin prickled.
Rebecca.
Steven’s dead wife.
The woman who accused Margaret and Steven of stealing.
“How old is he?”
“Thirty-one,” Robert said.
“When did he leave?”
“About ten years ago.”
“Why?”
Robert hesitated.
“He and Steven fought.”
“About?”
“Rebecca.”
Of course.
Ethan had grown up asking questions nobody wanted answered.
Daniel explained that Ethan accused his father of lying about his mother’s finances.
He became obsessed with the old business records.
Margaret called him unstable.
Steven cut him off.
Eventually Ethan left the state.
Nobody had heard from him since.
I held up my phone.
“Maybe somebody has.”
Simmons asked for Ethan’s full name.
Then she stepped outside.
Reyes returned with another officer.
They had checked the building.
No obvious threat.
No unauthorized person matching available descriptions.
I didn’t feel better.
Ten minutes later, Simmons came back.
“Ethan Miller returned to the state four months ago.”
Robert stared at her.
“How do you know?”
“Driver’s license records.”
“Where is he living?”
“We’re working on that.”
My phone buzzed again.
Simmons immediately held out her hand.
I gave it to her.
The message read:
ASK ROBERT WHO PAID FOR STEVEN’S LAWYER AFTER REBECCA DIED.
Everyone turned toward Robert.
He looked confused.
“What lawyer?”
Reyes repeated the question.
Robert rubbed his forehead.
Then his expression changed.
“Margaret.”
Daniel whispered, “Mom paid?”
“She said Steven needed help dealing with insurance.”
“What lawyer?”
“I don’t remember his name.”
“Think.”
Robert closed his eyes.
“Paul something.”
Mark stood.
“Dad.”
“Paul Bennett.”
Reyes wrote it down.
Simmons searched on her computer.
Her expression changed.
“Paul Bennett specialized in estate planning and business restructuring.”
Not criminal defense.
Not insurance claims.
Estate planning.
Business restructuring.
I felt cold again.
“What did he restructure?” I asked.
Nobody knew.
Laura was still on the video call.
She had been listening quietly.
Now she spoke.
“Rebecca’s shares.”
Everyone turned toward the screen.
“What?”
“After Rebecca died, Steven claimed her ownership in the company passed entirely to him.”
Robert frowned.
“Wasn’t he her husband?”
“Yes. But Rebecca had a will.”
Laura’s voice hardened.
“She left her shares to Ethan.”
Daniel looked stunned.
“How old was he?”
“Nine.”
“What happened to them?”
“Steven said the will couldn’t be found.”
Laura smiled bitterly.
“Convenient.”
Simmons leaned forward.
“Do you have a copy?”
“No. But Rebecca’s attorney might have.”
“Who?”
“Paul Bennett.”
Everything connected.
Margaret hired the lawyer.
The lawyer who had handled Rebecca’s estate.
The lawyer who knew about Ethan’s inheritance.
The lawyer who later helped with Steven’s business.
“Is Bennett alive?” I asked.
Simmons checked.
“Yes.”
Reyes stood.
“We’re contacting him.”
My phone buzzed.
Another message.
DON’T.
Then:
BENNETT WARNED THEM.
Simmons stared at the screen.
“Whoever is messaging you has detailed knowledge.”
Daniel looked around.
“Could it be Ethan?”
Nobody answered.
I typed.
ARE YOU ETHAN?
Simmons tried to stop me.
Too late.
Three dots appeared.
Then vanished.
Appeared again.
Finally:
YOU SHOULD HAVE ASKED SOONER.
Robert whispered, “That sounds like him.”
Then another message came.
I TRIED TO WARN CHLOE.
Mark shot to his feet.
“What?”
His face turned red.
“What does that mean?”
Another message.
SHE WAS THE ONLY ONE WHO SAW MARGARET MOVE THE PURSE.
My stomach dropped.
“How would he know that?”
Daniel looked at me.
“If he was watching Mom.”
I typed:
WHY WERE YOU WATCHING CHLOE?
The reply came quickly.
I WAS WATCHING MARGARET.
Mark was furious.
“You photographed my daughter!”
Another response:
I NEVER TOUCHED HER.
Then:
MARGARET WAS GOING TO USE HER.
Mark grabbed my phone.
“Use her for what?”
Simmons took it back.
She typed carefully.
WHAT WAS MARGARET PLANNING?
We waited.
Thirty seconds.
A minute.
Then the message came.
CHLOE’S TRUST.
Mark stared at the words.
“What trust?”
Robert slowly stood.
His expression was horrified.
“No.”
Daniel looked at him.
“What?”
Robert put both hands on the table.
“When my mother died…”
He struggled to continue.
“She left money to her great-grandchildren.”
Mark stared.
“How much?”
“I don’t know exactly.”
“You never told us?”
“It wasn’t supposed to transfer until they turned eighteen.”
“How many great-grandchildren?”
“Chloe is the only one.”
The room exploded.
Mark shouted.
Daniel demanded numbers.
Robert tried to remember details.
Simmons told everyone to sit down.
Finally, Robert said the original inheritance had been around $120,000.
Invested eight years ago.
Possibly worth much more now.
Mark looked ready to be sick.
“Mom controls it?”
“She’s one of the trustees.”
“One of?”
“Steven was the other.”
Silence.
There it was.
The reason for Chloe’s signature.
The photographs.
The “practice.”
If Margaret and Steven had already stolen from everyone else, Chloe’s trust might be the biggest remaining account they could reach.
Simmons immediately began making calls.
Then my phone rang.
Not a text.
A call.
Unknown number.
Everyone looked at it.
Simmons nodded.
“Answer on speaker.”
I did.
“Hello?”
At first, silence.
Then a man’s voice.
Low.
Tired.
“Sarah?”
“Yes.”
“My name is Ethan.”
Robert covered his mouth.
Daniel leaned closer.
“Where are you?”
“I’m not telling you.”
“Why are you doing this?” I asked.
“To stop them.”
“Then talk to police.”
A bitter laugh.
“I tried that once.”
Reyes spoke.
“Ethan, this is Detective Reyes.”
“I know who you are.”
Reyes stiffened.
“How?”
“You interviewed my father.”
“When?”
“This morning.”
Everyone looked at Reyes.
He nodded cautiously.
“Yes.”
Ethan continued.
“My father will lie until prison looks inevitable. Then he’ll trade Margaret for himself.”
“Why not come in?”
“Because I don’t know who Margaret paid.”
Reyes frowned.
“Paid for what?”
“The last twenty years.”
“Ethan, if you have evidence—”
“I do.”
“What evidence?”
“My mother’s records.”
Laura leaned toward the screen.
“You have Rebecca’s original files?”
There was silence.
Then Ethan said, “Aunt Laura?”
Her face crumpled.
“Ethan.”
For the first time, the voice on the phone broke.
“You kept the box?”
“Yes.”
“My mom said you would.”
Laura started crying.
Robert looked away.
Ethan regained control.
“I have the rest.”
“What rest?” Simmons asked.
“Rebecca hid duplicates.”
“Where?”
“She gave them to someone before she died.”
“Who?”
“Her attorney.”
Paul Bennett.
Simmons stood.
“We need to secure those records.”
“You’re too late.”
“What does that mean?”
“Bennett called Margaret forty minutes ago.”
Reyes looked at Simmons.
Ethan continued.
“She knows you’re asking about Rebecca.”
“How do you know Bennett called her?”
“Because I’m watching his office.”
I closed my eyes.
Of course he was.
“Ethan,” Reyes said, “do not approach Bennett.”
“I’m not.”
“Then tell us where you are.”
“No.”
“People could be in danger.”
“They already are.”
“What does that mean?”
There was movement on Ethan’s end.
Then his voice changed.
“She’s here.”
“Who?”
“Margaret.”
Everybody froze.
“Where?” Reyes demanded.
“Bennett’s office.”
I heard a car door slam through the phone.
May you like
Ethan whispered, “She’s carrying a gas can.”
The line went dead.
