Chapter 12: The Missing Person
“Call her back.””
I immediately did.
No answer.
Again.
Nothing.
Detective Harris took the phone from my hand.
“Give me the number.””
“It was blocked.””
“Can you retrieve the call data?””
“I'll try.””
He walked out.
I sat alone in the interview room, staring at the blank screen.
My mother's voice was still inside my head.
Someone else has been moving money through the trust.
Not Richard.
Someone inside the family.
I thought about the $214,783.
The stolen $38,600.
The mysterious company.
Claire.
Daniel.
My mother's will.
Then one thought hit me.
“What if the trust wasn't created for me?””
I stood.
When Harris returned, I asked him.
“Can we access the original trust agreement?””
“Yes.””
“I need to see the beneficiary clause.””
He looked at me.
“Why?””
“Because I think we've misunderstood the money.””
We returned to Margaret's office.
She had spent the last hour reviewing the old documents.
I explained everything.
Margaret went silent.
Then she opened the trust agreement.
“There.””
She pointed.
The beneficiary section wasn't simply my name.
It said:
*Emma Carter, contingent beneficiary.*
I frowned.
“What does contingent mean?””
Margaret looked at me.
“It means you're not the only beneficiary.””
My heart dropped.
“Who else?””
She turned the page.
The primary beneficiary was listed as:
*Morgan Holdings Trust.*
I stared.
“Claire.””
“Not necessarily.””
Margaret shook her head.
“Morgan Holdings was a legal entity.””
“Owned by Claire?””
“No.””
“Then who?””
She checked the registration records.
Her face changed.
“That's impossible.””
“What?””
“The company was registered by your mother.””
I sat down.
“My mother?””
“Yes.””
“Why would she create a company with Morgan in the name?””
Margaret looked at the signature page.
“She didn't.””
“What do you mean?””
“The company was registered under your mother's name, but the signature isn't hers.””
Another forged document.
Another layer.
I felt exhausted.
“Who had access to her identity?””
Margaret slowly looked at me.
“Richard.””
Daniel's name came into my mind.
Then I remembered the message.
Ask Daniel what happened the night your mother died.
I pulled out my phone.
The police had allowed me to make one call.
I called the detention center.
After several minutes, Daniel answered.
“Emma?””
“Daniel, I need the truth.””
“You have it.””
“No. I don't.””
Silence.
“Did Mom ever tell you about Morgan Holdings?””
His breathing changed.
“Yes.””
“Why didn't you tell me?””
“Because she made me promise.””
“You always say that.””
“I know.””
“Did you know Richard was moving money through the trust?””
“No.””
“Did you know Claire was alive?””
“No.””
“Did you know someone was using your identity?””
A long silence.
“Daniel?””
Finally, he whispered, “Yes.””
My heart stopped.
“When?””
“Six months ago.””
“Six months ago?””
“The day Richard came back.””
I stood up.
“You knew?””
“I knew someone had created a financial account using my information.””
“Why didn't you tell me?””
“Because I thought it was Richard.””
“Then why protect him?””
“I wasn't protecting him.””
His voice cracked.
“I was watching him.””
“For what?””
“To see who he was working with.””
I closed my eyes.
“Who?””
Daniel hesitated.
“Claire.””
My eyes opened.
“You knew Claire was alive.””
“No.””
“You just said—”
“I knew Richard was working with someone named Claire. I didn't know it was your aunt.””
“Then who did you think she was?””
Daniel's voice dropped.
“Your mother.””
I stopped breathing.
“What?””
“I received messages from your mother's email account six months ago. I thought she had arranged something before she died.””
“That makes no sense.””
“I know.””
“Daniel, my mother is dead.””
“I know.””
“Then who was sending those messages?””
“I don't know.””
A guard's voice sounded in the background.
Daniel spoke quickly.
“Emma, listen. There's a box in the garage.””
“What box?””
“Your mother's.””
“The safe-deposit box?””
“No. The other one.””
“What other box?””
“The one she told me never to open unless Richard came back.””
I gripped the phone.
“What's inside?””
Daniel's voice became barely audible.
“Everything.””
“Everything what?””
“Your mother's final evidence.””
The line went silent.
I called his name.
No answer.
Then a text appeared from Daniel's number.
*Don't go to the garage.*
Another message arrived immediately.
*It's already been opened.*
I ran to the parking lot.
Margaret followed.
“Emma, wait!””
I ignored her.
We reached Daniel's house twenty minutes later.
The garage door was open.
The lights were on.
Inside, drawers had been pulled out.
Boxes were overturned.
Family photographs covered the floor.
And in the center of the concrete driveway sat a small wooden box.
Its lid was open.
There was only one thing inside.
A photograph.
My mother stood beside Daniel.
But they weren't alone.
Between them was a little girl.
Me.
And standing behind us was Richard.
On the back of the photograph, my mother's handwriting said:
*This was taken three days before I learned the truth about Emma's father.*
May you like
Underneath that was one final sentence.
*Richard was not supposed to be in this photograph.*
