Chapter 6: The People Waiting at My Door
By Sunday morning, every box was packed.
I stood in the upstairs bedroom, looking at the empty closet where I'd once hung George's old jackets.
Todd appeared in the doorway.
"Are you really leaving today?""
I zipped my suitcase.
"You asked me to.""
He looked uncomfortable.
"Mom, I didn't mean it like that.""
I turned around.
"Which part didn't you mean, Todd? The part where you wanted your bedroom back, or the part where you told your children Grandma would be gone by Christmas?""
He looked away.
"Things have been stressful.""
"Yes. I imagine they have.""
He stepped inside.
"Listen, I know things have gotten complicated with Richard. But we can work this out.""
I placed the suitcase on the floor.
"What's there to work out?""
He hesitated.
"The money. The investment. All of it.""
I looked at him carefully.
"Do you know what your father wrote in his letter?""
Todd's expression changed.
"What letter?""
"The one he left in his safe deposit box.""
He swallowed.
"Mom, Dad was sick. He wasn't thinking clearly.""
I stared at him.
"Your father was many things, Todd. Confused wasn't one of them.""
He lowered his voice.
"Richard was trying to protect the family.""
"Then why did he use my information without permission?""
Todd didn't answer.
I picked up my suitcase.
"Goodbye, sweetheart.""
He moved aside.
But as I reached the stairs, he called after me.
"Mom, where are you going?""
I stopped.
"Home.""
He frowned.
"What home?""
I smiled.
"The one I bought.""
He stared at me.
Then his phone rang.
He glanced at the screen.
Richard.
He answered immediately.
"What?""
I heard Richard's raised voice through the phone.
"Has she left yet?""
Todd looked at me.
"She's here.""
Richard continued speaking.
"Don't let her go until we talk. There's been a development.""
Todd covered the microphone.
"Mom, can you wait a minute?""
I looked at him.
"No.""
I walked out.
Robert was waiting beside the driveway.
He opened the car door and helped me with my suitcase.
As we drove away, I saw Megan standing behind the living room curtains.
She wasn't waving.
She was watching.
Twenty-five minutes later, I arrived at Willow Creek.
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The front door opened to a beautiful living room filled with sunlight.
I walked straight to the garden.
White roses moved gently in the breeze.
A small fountain bubbled beside the stone pathway.
I placed my hand on the wooden trellis.
"George," I whispered, "we made it.""
For the first time since his death, I felt as though I had somewhere to belong.
Robert brought my remaining documents inside.
"I'll have the security system activated this afternoon," he said.
"And I've arranged for a financial investigator to review the fraudulent applications.""
"Thank you.""
He hesitated.
"There's something else. Richard has been calling my office repeatedly.""
"What does he want?""
"He wants to meet you.""
I laughed softly.
"How interesting.""
"Judith, I recommend that you don't meet him alone.""
"I wasn't planning to.""
Robert nodded.
Then his phone rang.
He answered, listened, and slowly looked at me.
"What's wrong?"" I asked.
He ended the call.
"The bank has confirmed that the $6.8 million application was not the only attempted transaction.""
I felt my stomach tighten.
"What else?""
"Someone submitted a request to change the authorized ownership records for Rosedale Holdings.""
"Who?""
"Richard and Todd.""
I sat down.
"Did it go through?""
"No. We placed a legal hold on the company records. But the application included a document claiming you had voluntarily transferred control.""
I looked at him.
"With another forged signature?""
"Yes.""
I shook my head.
"How much further were they planning to go?""
Robert didn't answer.
My phone vibrated.
A message from an unknown number appeared.
Judith, you need to stop listening to Robert. He doesn't know what George promised us.
I read it twice.
Then another message arrived.
If you want to know the truth about your husband's last days, meet me tonight.
There was no name.
I showed Robert.
He studied the screen.
"Don't respond yet.""
"Could it be Richard?""
"Possibly. Or someone else involved.""
I stared at the message.
Then I noticed something.
The sender had attached a photograph.
It showed George standing outside our old Mesa house.
Todd was beside him.
Richard stood on the other side.
The photograph was dated four days before George entered the hospital.
I zoomed in.
George was holding a manila envelope.
Todd was looking directly at the camera.
And Richard's hand was resting on George's shoulder.
But it wasn't the photograph itself that frightened me.
It was the handwritten note visible through the envelope's transparent sleeve.
I recognized George's handwriting immediately.
Final instructions. Do not give Todd access.
I felt the room tilt.
"Robert?""
He leaned closer.
"Yes?""
I pointed to the photograph.
"That envelope. I need to know what was inside it.""
Robert examined the image.
Then he picked up his phone.
"I'll contact the investigator.""
Before he could make the call, the doorbell rang.
We both turned.
A woman stood outside the glass entrance.
She was in her late fifties, wearing a beige coat and holding a thick brown envelope.
I opened the door cautiously.
"Can I help you?""
She looked at me.
"Mrs. Calloway?""
"Yes.""
"My name is Helen Brooks. I was your husband's hospice nurse.""
I felt my breath catch.
"George's nurse?""
She nodded.
"I've been trying to reach you for several weeks.""
"Why?""
Helen glanced toward Robert.
Then she looked back at me.
"Because there's something about your husband's final days that I couldn't put in writing at the time.""
I stepped aside.
"Please come in.""
She sat at the kitchen island and placed the envelope on the counter.
Her hands were trembling.
"Your husband asked me to keep this until I could deliver it directly to you.""
I opened the envelope.
Inside was a handwritten statement and a small photograph.
The statement was dated two days before George died.
I began reading.
Judith, if Todd comes to you asking about the documents, don't believe him. He already knows what Richard did.
My vision blurred.
Helen reached across the counter.
"There's something else, Mrs. Calloway.""
I looked up.
"What?""
She swallowed.
"On the night your husband died, your son came to the hospice facility after visiting hours.""
I gripped the paper.
"Todd?""
She nodded.
"He wasn't alone.""
"Who was with him?""
Helen looked directly into my eyes.
"Richard. And they went into your husband's room carrying a folder.""
My heart began pounding.
"What happened?""
Helen lowered her voice.
"Your husband called for me afterward. He was frightened. He told me that if anything happened to the documents in his room, I had to make sure you received the original copy.""
I stared at her.
"Did you see what was in that folder?""
She nodded slowly.
Then she reached into her handbag and placed one final document on the counter.
It was a hospital visitor log.
Two names were written beside George's room number.
Todd Calloway.
Richard Calloway.
And beneath their signatures was a third entry.
A visitor who had arrived thirty minutes later.
A visitor whose name made Robert stand up so quickly that his chair fell backward.
"Judith," he whispered.
"We need to find this person.""
I stared at the name.
It belonged to Daniel Price.
My former accountant.
May you like
The man who had known about my lottery winnings before anyone else.
And the man who, according to the visitor log, had been alone with my dying husband just hours before George took his final breath.
