Chapter 10: The Accident My Father Never Discussed
“Dad?””
My father didn't answer.
He was staring at the envelope in Michael's hand as if it contained something far more dangerous than a threat.
I stepped closer.
“What's wrong?””
Dad slowly sat down.
“Your mother died in a car accident,” he whispered.
“I know that.””
“No, son. You know what the police told us.””
I felt my stomach tighten.
“What are you saying?””
Dad rubbed his hands together.
For years, I had watched him repair engines, lift heavy equipment, and work through injuries without complaining. But now his fingers were shaking.
“Your mother was driving home from Naples that night. She had been meeting Edward Hayes about the property.””
I frowned.
“Why?””
“Edward had discovered that someone was trying to obtain ownership records using forged documents. He believed it was connected to a group of investors who wanted our land.””
“Why didn't you tell me?””
“You were nine years old. You had just lost your mother. I couldn't put another burden on your shoulders.””
I looked toward Michael.
He had opened the envelope.
Inside was a single photograph.
It showed my mother's blue sedan beside a highway guardrail. The front of the vehicle was badly damaged.
On the back, someone had written:
She wasn't supposed to die that night.
My knees weakened.
“Who sent this?””
Michael examined the envelope.
“There's no return address. But the handwriting appears recent.””
Dad closed his eyes.
“Your mother was driving carefully. She never sped. She always called me when she was leaving Naples.””
I remembered that night.
I had been asleep when the phone rang.
I remembered Dad answering it.
I remembered the sound of something falling to the floor.
And I remembered him sitting beside my bed until morning, holding my hand while I cried.
“Dad,” I whispered, “are you saying the accident wasn't an accident?””
He looked at me.
“I don't know.””
Michael placed the photograph inside a protective sleeve.
“We shouldn't jump to conclusions. But this message, combined with the forged property documents, deserves serious investigation.””
I nodded.
Then I looked at the envelope again.
“Whoever sent this knows something.””
Dad swallowed.
“There's another thing.””
He reached into his jacket and removed a small folded paper.
It was an old receipt from a roadside service station.
The date matched the night my mother died.
At the bottom was a handwritten telephone number.
“Your mother called this number shortly before the accident,” Dad said.
I looked at it.
“Whose number?””
“Edward's.””
Michael examined the receipt.
“Did you ever contact him about this?””
Dad shook his head.
“Edward told me he never received the call.””
“Then why keep the receipt?””
“Because your mother wrote something on the back.””
Dad turned it over.
Three words were written in my mother's handwriting.
Don't trust Richard.
I felt the room tilt.
“Richard Mitchell?””
Dad nodded.
“I didn't know him personally back then. But Edward had mentioned his name several times.””
Michael immediately opened his laptop.
“Richard was involved in property acquisitions in Florida decades ago. I'll check his business history.””
Vanessa had been standing silently near the ballroom entrance.
Now she stepped forward.
“My father knew your mother?””
I turned toward her.
“You tell me.””
She shook her head.
“I've never heard him mention her.””
Dad looked at her.
“Did your father ever discuss Edward Hayes?””
Vanessa hesitated.
“He mentioned the name once. When I was younger. He said Edward had ruined a business opportunity.””
Michael looked up.
“What opportunity?””
“I don't remember. I was probably fifteen or sixteen.””
Dad slowly stood.
“Your father and Edward knew each other?””
Vanessa nodded.
“Apparently.””
I looked at her.
“Why didn't you tell me?””
“Because I didn't know it was important!””
Michael's phone rang.
He answered, listened, then looked at Dad.
“Robert, I found something.””
“What?””
“Richard Mitchell and Edward Hayes were both listed in a corporate filing from twenty-five years ago.””
Dad's face tightened.
“What company?””
“Atlantic Coastal Holdings.””
Dad lowered himself into the chair again.
“That was the company that tried to buy our land.””
Michael nodded.
“According to the records, Richard was a financial director. Edward was an external property consultant.””
I stared at the screen.
“So they knew each other.””
“Yes.””
“And now Richard's daughter is married to me.””
Nobody answered.
Then Michael opened another record.
“There's something more recent. Six months before Edward died, he filed a complaint concerning an attempted transfer of ownership involving a property trust.””
Dad's eyes widened.
“Why didn't he tell me?””
“Perhaps he intended to. The complaint was withdrawn before it was processed.””
I leaned closer.
“Who withdrew it?””
Michael checked the filing.
The answer appeared on the screen.
*Patricia Mitchell.*
Vanessa gasped.
“My mother?””
Michael nodded.
Dad looked toward the ballroom doors.
“I need to speak to Patricia.””
Vanessa immediately reached for her phone.
But before she could dial, another message appeared on my screen.
Unknown number.
Your father is hiding the most important part of the accident. Ask him what he found in your mother's car.
I slowly turned toward Dad.
He read the message over my shoulder.
His face drained of color.
“Dad?””
He didn't speak.
“WHAT did you find in Mom's car?””
He finally looked at me.
Then he whispered:
“A second set of keys.””
I frowned.
“Keys to what?””
Dad looked at Michael.
“The safe.””
And suddenly, I understood why someone had gone to such lengths to get inside the Naples estate.
May you like
They weren't just after the house.
They were after whatever my mother had hidden inside it.
