Chapter 8
Claire didn’t understand.
“My father never knew William.”
Margaret laughed through the phone.
“Of course he did.”
“You’re lying.”
“Ask Martin.”
“He’s in the hospital because somebody tried to kill him.”
Silence.
Only for a fraction of a second.
But Claire heard it.
“Did you do that?”
Margaret recovered.
“You’re becoming dramatic.”
Ramos motioned for Ethan to keep her talking.
Claire stepped closer.
“My father was an accountant.”
“Yes.”
“He worked for a manufacturing company.”
“That’s what he told you.”
Claire’s hands started shaking.
“What are you saying?”
Margaret sighed.
“Robert Bennett worked for William.”
“No.”
“Not officially.”
Claire remembered her father.
Quiet.
Careful.
A man who balanced his checkbook every Sunday.
A man who refused to borrow money.
A man who hated wealthy people who acted above the rules.
Suddenly those opinions had context.
“What did he do?”
Margaret’s voice turned almost playful.
“He found things.”
“What things?”
“Money.”
Claire looked at Ramos.
The detective was recording.
Margaret continued.
“Your father was one of William’s favorite little investigators.”
Ethan whispered, “Dad hired private investigators?”
“Not exactly.”
Margaret’s laugh disappeared.
“Robert was a forensic accountant.”
Claire felt the room tilt.
Her father had told her he worked in corporate auditing.
She had never known the details.
“He investigated you.”
“Yes.”
There was hatred in Margaret’s voice now.
“He spent three years crawling through our finances.”
Claire remembered her father coming home late.
Stacks of folders.
Calls he took outside.
The sudden vacation he and Claire’s mother had taken shortly before his death.
Claire whispered, “Why?”
“Because William was weak.”
“Because you were stealing?”
Margaret’s breathing sharpened.
“Because my husband treated me like an employee.”
“So you were stealing.”
“I took what I was entitled to.”
Ethan closed his eyes.
There it was.
Not a denial.
Again.
Claire asked, “Why are there surveillance photographs of my father and me?”
“Robert started worrying about you.”
“Why?”
“Because he realized William’s son was dating his daughter.”
Claire stared at Ethan.
“We met by accident.”
Margaret laughed.
“Did you?”
Ethan’s face changed.
Claire turned toward him.
“What does she mean?”
“I don’t know.”
Margaret continued.
“Robert thought William had arranged it.”
Claire’s anger flashed.
“That’s ridiculous.”
“William believed people were chess pieces.”
“And you don’t?”
Margaret went silent.
Claire knew she had landed a hit.
Then Margaret said, “Tell Ethan to ask his father.”
“He’s dead.”
“Yes.”
Her voice became colder.
“So convenient.”
The line went dead.
Ramos immediately issued instructions to trace the call.
Claire sat.
Her knees wouldn’t hold her.
“My father knew William.”
Ethan sat beside her.
“I didn’t know.”
She looked at him sharply.
“I believe you.”
He seemed surprised.
“You do?”
“Yes.”
Claire took a breath.
“I know what it looks like when you’re lying to me.”
The words hurt him.
She saw it.
But this was not the moment to protect his feelings.
Ramos left to coordinate with officers.
Claire called her mother.
Linda Bennett lived two states away.
She answered on the third ring.
“Claire? Is Noah okay?”
Claire had told her about the hospital but not everything else.
“He’s okay.”
“Thank God.”
“Mom, I need to ask you something.”
“What?”
“Did Dad know William Hale?”
Silence.
Claire stood.
“Mom?”
Linda’s voice changed.
“Where did you hear that name connected to your father?”
Claire closed her eyes.
“So he did.”
Another silence.
“Mom.”
“Yes.”
The answer felt like a door opening beneath her feet.
“How?”
“Your father did contract work.”
“For William?”
“For several businesses.”
“Did he investigate Margaret?”
Linda started crying.
Claire stared at the floor.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because Robert made me promise.”
“Promise what?”
“That you would never be dragged into it.”
“I married into it.”
“I know.”
Her mother’s voice broke.
“When you told us you were dating Ethan Hale, your father nearly lost his mind.”
Claire remembered.
Her father had disliked Ethan at first.
Not openly.
But he had asked many questions.
Too many.
Claire had assumed it was normal father behavior.
“Why didn’t Dad tell me?”
“He tried to convince you to stop seeing Ethan without explaining why.”
Claire almost laughed.
“That worked well.”
“He knew you’d ask questions.”
“What did he find?”
Linda was quiet.
“I don’t know everything.”
“Tell me what you know.”
“Margaret was moving money.”
Claire looked at Ethan.
He heard.
“Your father traced several companies. William wanted enough evidence to confront her privately.”
“Why privately?”
“To avoid destroying the family company.”
Of course.
Reputation.
Always reputation.
“What happened?”
“Robert found something bigger than missing money.”
Claire’s chest tightened.
“What?”
“I don’t know.”
“Mom.”
“I’m telling you the truth.”
Linda sounded frightened now.
“Your father came home one night and told me if anything happened to him, I should give a box to federal investigators.”
Claire stopped.
“What box?”
“He kept it in our attic.”
“Where is it now?”
Silence.
“Mom?”
“It disappeared after his funeral.”
Claire closed her eyes.
“Who had access to the house?”
“Family. Friends.”
“Margaret?”
“No.”
Linda paused.
“But William came.”
Ethan looked up.
“What?”
Claire put the call on speaker.
Linda continued.
“William came to Robert’s funeral. He stayed afterward. He spoke to me privately.”
“What did he say?”
“That Robert had been brave.”
Claire’s mother started crying harder.
“And that he was sorry.”
“Sorry for what?”
“He never said.”
Claire felt cold.
“How did Dad die?”
Another long silence.
Ethan stared at her.
Claire knew the official answer.
A single-car crash during heavy rain.
Her father’s car had left the road.
The investigation found no mechanical defect.
No alcohol.
No second vehicle.
Claire had spent years telling herself accidents happened.
Her mother whispered, “There was something I never told you.”
Claire’s mouth went dry.
“What?”
“Your father wasn’t supposed to be on that road.”
Claire sat down.
“What do you mean?”
“He called me twenty minutes before the crash.”
“What did he say?”
“He said he was meeting someone.”
“Who?”
“He wouldn’t tell me.”
Claire’s heart pounded.
“Where?”
“A hotel near the airport.”
“That road doesn’t lead to the airport.”
“I know.”
Claire closed her eyes.
Her mother continued.
“He sounded scared.”
“Did you tell police?”
“Yes.”
“What happened?”
“They said there wasn’t enough evidence of anything criminal.”
Claire looked at Ethan.
“Did William know?”
“I told him at the funeral.”
Claire’s stomach turned.
William had later created hidden records.
Had written letters.
Had warned Noah’s future mother about Margaret.
And had apologized for Robert’s death.
Nothing felt accidental anymore.
Ramos returned.
Claire told him everything.
His expression became serious.
“We’ll pull the old crash file.”
Claire nodded.
Ethan stood near the window.
His mother might have destroyed his marriage.
Attacked his son.
Stolen millions.
And now there was a possibility she had been connected to Claire’s father years earlier.
Claire refused to say it aloud.
Not without evidence.
Her phone rang.
The hospital.
Martin was awake.
Claire answered.
A nurse said he was asking for Ethan.
They drove there under police escort.
Martin looked weak but conscious.
Ethan walked to his bedside.
“Who came to your house?”
Martin shook his head.
“I didn’t see.”
“What happened?”
“I was in my study. I smelled something strange. Next thing I remember, I woke up here.”
Claire stepped closer.
“You texted me not to trust Samuel.”
Martin nodded.
“I saw him meeting Margaret weeks ago.”
“Why didn’t you tell us this morning?”
“I wasn’t sure what it meant.”
Claire asked, “Did my father know William?”
Martin looked at her.
His face changed.
“So she told you.”
“My mother confirmed it.”
Martin sighed.
“Robert helped William investigate Margaret.”
“Did Margaret know?”
“Yes.”
“Did she hate him?”
“Yes.”
Claire’s chest tightened.
“Do you think she had anything to do with his death?”
Martin closed his eyes.
“I don’t know.”
“That isn’t an answer.”
“It’s the only honest one I have.”
Claire nodded.
Then Martin reached toward the bedside table.
“There’s something else.”
Ethan leaned closer.
“What?”
“Your father told me Robert found proof of a second account.”
“What second account?”
“One Margaret didn’t create.”
Claire frowned.
“Who created it?”
Martin looked directly at Ethan.
“Samuel.”
Ethan stepped back.
Martin continued.
“Margaret stole millions.”
He swallowed.
“But Samuel helped her hide it.”
Claire’s pulse accelerated.
“Why?”
Martin’s expression became grim.
“Because Margaret wasn’t the only person taking money.”
Before anyone could respond, Ramos’s phone rang.
He stepped into the hall.
Thirty seconds later he returned.
His face had changed.
“We found Margaret.”
Claire stood.
“Where?”
“At a motel outside Northbridge.”
Ethan exhaled.
“Did you arrest her?”
Ramos didn’t answer immediately.
Claire’s fear returned.
“What happened?”
“She wasn’t alone.”
“Who was with her?”
May you like
Ramos looked at them.
“Samuel Whitman.”
