Chapter 10: Beneath the Floorboard
By the time I reached the cottage, three police cars were already parked outside.
Daniel met me at the door.
His face was tight.
“I didn't touch anything after I called them.””
“Show me.””
He led me into the bedroom.
The built-in shelves looked exactly as my mother had left them, except for one section pulled slightly forward.
Behind it was a narrow wooden compartment.
An officer stood nearby with gloves on.
“Ms. Miller,” he said, “we found this.””
He pointed to the floor.
One floorboard was loose.
My mother's handwriting was visible on the edge.
*THIRD BOARD FROM THE WINDOW.*
I knelt.
The officer stopped me.
“Let me do it.””
He lifted the board carefully.
Underneath was a metal box wrapped in an old towel.
My heart pounded.
“That's been there for years,” Daniel said.
The officer opened it.
Inside were bank records, photographs, a USB drive, and a sealed envelope.
The envelope had my name on it.
I opened it.
My mother's handwriting filled the page.
Claire,
If you've found this, Sarah has already tried to take control of the cottage.
I need you to understand why.
The cottage was never meant to be a simple inheritance.
Your father bought this property with money that belonged to someone else.
I stopped.
“Someone else?””
Daniel looked over my shoulder.
I continued.
Years ago, your father discovered that his business partner had been moving money through properties around Asheville. Your father refused to participate.
The partner threatened him.
Your father protected the evidence here.
The cottage became the place where he hid the records.
My hands went cold.
I looked at the USB drive.
My mother continued.
Sarah discovered pieces of this story.
She believed the records could be worth a fortune.
But she didn't know everything.
There is one person who does.
I looked at the next line.
*Your husband's business partner is still alive.*
My breath caught.
Then I saw the name.
*Richard Cole.*
Daniel's face changed.
“Do you know him?””
I shook my head.
“No.””
The officer picked up the photographs.
They showed my husband standing beside another man outside the cottage.
The man was older, silver-haired, wearing a dark suit.
On the back of one photograph, my mother's handwriting said:
*Richard Cole — 2018.*
I stared at it.
Then I recognized the face.
Not from my husband's life.
From Sarah's emails.
The private investigator.
The attorney.
The renovation paperwork.
Richard Cole's name appeared everywhere.
“Officer,” I said, “I think you need to see this.””
Before he could answer, my phone buzzed.
A text from an unknown number.
*You found the box.*
Another message appeared.
*Now you know why Sarah was afraid.*
Then:
*Ask her what happened the night your husband died.*
I looked at Sarah.
She was standing in the doorway.
Her face had gone completely white.
“Sarah?””
She shook her head.
“Mom, don't.””
“What happened the night Dad died?””
“I can't.””
“Tell me.””
“I can't.””
The officer stepped toward her.
“Ms. Miller, if you know something relevant to this investigation, now would be the time to say it.””
Sarah looked at him.
Then at me.
Finally, she whispered:
“Dad wasn't supposed to be driving that night.””
Silence filled the room.
I felt the blood drain from my face.
“What do you mean?””
Sarah swallowed.
“He was meeting Richard.””
I stared at her.
“Why?””
“To give him the documents.””
“What documents?””
“The originals.””
I looked at the metal box.
“Were they here?””
Sarah nodded.
“Dad hid them before he left.””
“Then why did he die?””
She looked toward the window.
“I don't know.””
Her voice broke.
“But Richard was the last person who saw him alive.””
The officer immediately reached for his radio.
Sarah suddenly grabbed my arm.
“Mom.””
I turned.
She whispered four words.
May you like
“Richard is here.””
A car door slammed outside.
