Chapter 4
Samuel Bennett’s call kept vibrating in my hand.
But I couldn’t answer yet.
“Mom, are you absolutely sure?”
“Yes.”
“You saw the photographs in Rachel’s car?”
“She drove me to the funeral home the next day. There was an envelope on the back seat with your father’s name written across it.”
“Did you ask her?”
“She said she forgot to take them inside.”
I closed my eyes.
“So if she didn’t deliver the pictures, why was she there?”
“I don’t know.”
“Did police know?”
“I assumed she told them whatever she needed to tell them.”
“Mom.”
“I know.”
“No, you don’t know.”
My voice rose.
“You knew Dad was afraid of somebody named Victor. You knew Rachel went to his house the night he died. You knew her reason for being there didn’t make sense.”
Emma appeared halfway down the stairs.
I stopped.
Mom whispered, “I was grieving.”
I looked at my daughter.
Thirteen.
Listening.
Always listening.
“I have to call you back.”
I ended the call.
Emma stared at me.
“What happened to Grandpa?”
I wanted to lie.
Just for one night.
I wanted to tell her nothing.
Send her upstairs.
Make popcorn.
Watch some terrible movie.
Pretend the world hadn’t changed.
But Rachel’s lies had already done enough damage.
So I chose truth.
“I’m not sure.”
“You sounded mad.”
“I am.”
“At Grandma?”
“A little.”
“Why?”
“Because she remembered something from the night Grandpa died and never told me.”
Emma came down.
“Was Mom there?”
My silence answered.
She sat on the bottom stair.
“Dad.”
“Yes.”
“Do you think Mom hurt Grandpa?”
The question felt like a knife.
“No.”
It came too quickly.
Emma noticed.
“You don’t know.”
“No. I don’t.”
She wrapped her arms around herself.
I sat beside her.
“Listen to me. We are not going to decide what happened based on fear.”
“But all this stuff keeps happening.”
“I know.”
“She lied about you.”
“I know.”
“She hid the money.”
“Yes.”
“She was talking to Victor.”
“Yes.”
“And she was at Grandpa’s house?”
“Apparently.”
Emma’s eyes filled.
“So why are you still defending her?”
“Because accusing somebody of hurting another person is serious.”
“She’s my mom.”
Her voice cracked.
“I don’t want her to be bad.”
There it was.
Not anger.
Not betrayal.
Fear.
She wanted permission to still love Rachel.
I put an arm around her.
“You can love someone and still be angry with them.”
“Even if they did something terrible?”
“Yes.”
“Would you?”
I stared ahead.
“I don’t know.”
Emma leaned against me.
The phone started ringing again.
Samuel.
This time I answered.
“Mr. Bennett.”
“Mr. Miller, I found something.”
I put the call on speaker.
Laura was also patched in.
Samuel continued.
“Northstar Fiduciary Services was incorporated three years ago in Nevada.”
“Who owns it?” Laura asked.
“That is intentionally difficult to establish.”
“Try.”
“I did.”
Paper shuffled.
“One corporate manager is listed as VHL Consulting.”
My stomach tightened.
“Victor Hale.”
“That would be my assumption.”
“And the other?”
Samuel hesitated.
“R.M. Holdings.”
Emma lifted her head.
Laura asked, “R.M.?”
“Yes.”
I looked at Emma.
Rachel Miller.
Laura said it aloud.
“Rachel Miller.”
Samuel answered carefully.
“We cannot conclude that from initials alone.”
Emma whispered, “Mom’s email starts RM Holdings.”
I turned.
“What?”
“She uses that phrase.”
“How do you know?”
“She showed me an email once.”
Laura’s voice sharpened through the phone.
“Emma, what exactly did you see?”
“A logo.”
“What kind?”
“A blue star.”
Samuel inhaled.
“Northstar’s logo is a blue star.”
My hand tightened around the phone.
Laura said, “Samuel, send me every document you have.”
“I’m doing that now.”
“Anything linking Rachel directly?”
“Not yet.”
“Look harder.”
I asked, “What happens if she owns part of the company?”
Samuel sighed.
“Then your ex-wife was potentially trying to place the trust under control of an entity in which she has a financial interest.”
“Is that illegal?”
“Depending on what she represented, what she signed, and whether she concealed the conflict, it could be.”
Emma stared at the floor.
I hated having this conversation in front of her.
But every attempt to shield her seemed to leave her more vulnerable.
Samuel added, “There’s another issue.”
Of course there was.
“What?”
“I reviewed the original trust file.”
“And?”
“One document is missing.”
Laura asked, “Which document?”
“A handwritten memorandum Edward gave Victor three days before his death.”
My chest tightened.
“What did it say?”
“We don’t know.”
“You didn’t copy it?”
“Victor personally logged it into the file.”
“Then took it?”
“That appears possible.”
Laura said, “Description?”
Samuel read from a record.
“‘Client memorandum regarding beneficiary protection and concerns relating to maternal influence.’”
Emma whispered, “Maternal means Mom.”
“Yes,” I said quietly.
Samuel continued.
“Edward apparently intended to amend the trust.”
“To do what?”
“We don’t know.”
“But he died before signing?”
“That appears to be the case.”
My thoughts raced.
Dad had discovered something.
Dad was worried about Rachel.
Dad warned Mom about Victor.
Dad planned to change the trust.
Then Dad died.
And nine years later, Victor and Rachel were apparently connected through a company that wanted control of Emma’s money.
Laura spoke.
“We need law enforcement.”
I stood.
“Yes.”
Samuel said, “I agree.”
Emma grabbed my sleeve.
“Dad.”
I looked at her.
She whispered, “Somebody’s outside.”
I froze.
The living room curtains were open.
Across the street, a dark SUV sat under a tree.
Engine running.
Headlights off.
I had noticed it when we arrived.
I thought it belonged to a neighbor.
Now a man sat behind the wheel.
Watching the house.
I lowered the phone.
“Emma, upstairs.”
“No.”
“Now.”
She saw my face.
This time she obeyed.
Laura heard everything.
“What’s happening?”
“There’s a car outside.”
“Do you recognize it?”
“No.”
“Do not go outside.”
I almost said I wasn’t stupid.
Then I remembered every horror movie I had ever watched.
“I’m calling police.”
I dialed.
As soon as I did, the SUV pulled away.
Fast.
Too fast.
I ran to the window.
Couldn’t see the plate.
“Damn it.”
I gave the dispatcher the description anyway.
An officer arrived fifteen minutes later.
He took a statement.
He was polite.
But there wasn’t much he could do.
A vehicle parked on a public street wasn’t a crime.
After he left, I locked every door.
Then I checked them twice.
Emma came downstairs holding Charlie, the stuffed dog.
I blinked.
“You got Charlie?”
She looked confused.
“No.”
She held him up.
“He was in my backpack.”
My skin went cold.
“Did you pack him?”
“No.”
“Maybe earlier?”
She shook her head.
“Mom hates when I bring him places. She says I’m too old.”
I took the stuffed animal.
Something felt wrong.
Not about the dog.
About its weight.
Charlie had belonged to Emma since she was four.
One ear was torn.
The fur was flattened.
I had held that toy a thousand times.
Now the body felt heavier.
“Dad?”
I squeezed the stomach.
Something hard was inside.
Emma frowned.
“What?”
I found a seam on the back.
It had been cut.
Then crudely restitched.
I stared at it.
“Was this seam always here?”
Emma stepped closer.
“No.”
I got scissors from the kitchen.
“Dad, what are you doing?”
“Stay behind me.”
“It’s a stuffed animal.”
“Humor me.”
I cut three stitches.
Reached inside.
My fingers touched plastic.
I pulled out a small rectangular device.
Emma stared.
“What is that?”
I knew before I turned it over.
A tracker.
A tiny green light blinked.
Emma’s face drained of color.
“No.”
I grabbed my phone and called the officer who had just left.
Then Laura.
Then the court security line.
Emma started crying.
“Mom put that in there.”
“We don’t know.”
“Yes, we do!”
She backed away.
“She put Charlie in my backpack. She knew I’d take him.”
“Emma.”
“She knows where I am.”
I moved toward her.
She raised both hands.
“Don’t.”
I stopped.
“I just want everything to stop.”
“I know.”
“I want yesterday back.”
My throat burned.
“I know.”
She sank onto the couch.
I crouched several feet away.
The phone rang.
Rachel.
I stared at the screen.
Emma saw the name.
“Answer.”
“I don’t think—”
“Answer.”
I did.
“Rachel.”
Her voice sounded frantic.
“Is Emma with you?”
“Yes.”
“Put her on.”
“No.”
“David, put my daughter on the phone.”
“The police are here.”
Silence.
Then, “Why?”
I looked at the tracker in my hand.
“You tell me.”
Nothing.
“Rachel?”
“What are you talking about?”
“Charlie.”
Another silence.
Emma heard it.
Her face crumpled.
I said, “There was a tracker inside him.”
Rachel inhaled sharply.
“Oh my God.”
Not the reaction I expected.
“What?”
“David, listen to me.”
“Did you put it there?”
“No.”
“Did Victor?”
“I don’t know.”
“Who did?”
“I don’t know!”
Emma stood.
Rachel continued rapidly.
“You need to leave your house.”
I looked toward the window.
“Why?”
“Because Victor knows where she is.”
The room went silent.
I stared at the phone.
“You just said you didn’t know about the tracker.”
“I didn’t.”
“Then how do you know Victor knows?”
“Because he called me.”
“When?”
“Ten minutes ago.”
“What did he say?”
Rachel was crying now.
Real crying.
I could hear it.
“He said I ruined everything.”
Emma covered her mouth.
Rachel continued.
“He said the court order changed the timetable.”
“What timetable?”
“I don’t know.”
“Stop lying!”
“I’m not lying now!”
“Now?”
The word hung there.
Rachel sobbed.
“I made mistakes.”
“What mistakes?”
“I thought I could control him.”
My blood ran cold.
“Control Victor?”
“Yes.”
“For what?”
“The trust.”
Emma shut her eyes.
I whispered, “So it’s true.”
“I never wanted to steal from Emma.”
“You created Northstar.”
Silence.
That was enough.
“You created it.”
“With Victor.”
“Why?”
“Because your father hated me.”
“So you decided to take control of his trust?”
“I thought the trust should be managed by Emma’s parent.”
“By you.”
“Yes!”
Her voice broke.
“I raised her!”
“That money is hers.”
“I know that.”
“Then why were you hiding it?”
“Because Victor told me if you learned about the trust, you would try to take custody.”
I nearly laughed at the insanity.
“And you believed him?”
“You hated me.”
“I didn’t even know Victor.”
“He knew you.”
That stopped me.
“What?”
Rachel went silent.
“What does that mean?”
“David…”
“What does that mean?”
“Victor knew you before I did.”
I felt the air disappear from the room.
“How?”
Rachel whispered, “Ask your father.”
“He’s dead.”
“I know.”
“Then tell me.”
Before she answered, glass shattered in the kitchen.
Emma screamed.
I dropped the phone.
A rock rolled across the floor.
Wrapped around it was a piece of paper.
I moved Emma behind the wall.
The officer drew his weapon.
He ordered us away from the windows.
Then he picked up the note.
May you like
Five words were written across it.
GIVE BACK WHAT EDWARD STOLE.
