Chapter 6
I stared at my father.
“What are you talking about?”
Dad looked toward Detective Alvarez.
Then Melissa.
As if he wanted one of them to rescue him from the conversation.
Nobody did.
“Dad.”
He looked at me.
“Ryan knew who you were before you met.”
My heart thudded.
“No.”
“You remember how you met him?”
“Of course.”
A charity fundraiser in Nashville.
I had spilled champagne near the silent auction table.
Ryan handed me napkins.
He made me laugh.
We talked for two hours.
He asked for my number.
For years, I told people it felt like fate.
Dad rubbed both hands over his face.
“I had seen Ryan before.”
“When?”
“About eight months earlier.”
“Where?”
“At your grandmother’s attorney’s office.”
The room went quiet.
“What?”
“I didn’t know his name then.”
“Why was he there?”
“I never found out.”
“Why were you there?”
Dad hesitated.
“I was trying to get information about your grandmother’s estate.”
My head started aching.
“You said you only learned about the trust recently.”
“I only learned the details recently.”
“That isn’t what I asked.”
His eyes dropped.
“No.”
Anger rose inside me.
“You knew there was something.”
“I suspected.”
“For how long?”
“Years.”
I stood.
Melissa said softly, “Claire—”
“No.”
I looked at Dad.
“You came into my house yesterday acting like Ryan was the only person who kept me in the dark.”
“I was trying to protect you.”
I laughed.
It sounded ugly.
“I am so tired of people using that sentence.”
Dad flinched.
Good.
He needed to.
“What did you know?”
He took a breath.
“Your grandmother and I fought before she died.”
I had known they weren’t close.
I didn’t know why.
“She didn’t trust me with money.”
“Why?”
Dad looked ashamed.
“Because I had a gambling problem when I was younger.”
I said nothing.
It wasn’t the worst secret I could imagine.
But I had never known.
“I lost a lot.”
“How much?”
“Enough.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“Almost one hundred thousand dollars.”
My eyebrows rose.
“Mom knew?”
“Yes.”
My mother.
The woman whose locket Ryan had used to lure me.
Dad continued.
“I stopped before you were ten. Your mother helped me. I paid everything back. But Margaret never forgot.”
“So she created the trust because she didn’t trust you?”
“Partly.”
“And you didn’t tell me?”
“She asked that I not be involved.”
My anger grew.
“That still doesn’t explain Ryan.”
Dad nodded.
“After Margaret died, I suspected she had left something separately to you. Her attorney wouldn’t discuss it because you were already an adult.”
“Why didn’t he discuss it with me?”
“I don’t know.”
Melissa interrupted.
“That’s one of the issues we’re investigating.”
Dad continued.
“One afternoon, I went to the firm. Ryan was coming out.”
“Before I met him.”
“Yes.”
“Did you speak?”
“No.”
“You remembered his face?”
“Not immediately.”
I stared at him.
“When did you recognize him?”
“Your wedding.”
I actually took a step back.
“You knew at my wedding?”
“I thought I recognized him.”
“You said nothing?”
“I wasn’t sure.”
Dad stood.
“You were happy.”
“That isn’t an excuse!”
“I know.”
“Do you?”
My voice cracked.
“Because everybody keeps making decisions for me based on what they think will keep me happy.”
Dad looked devastated.
I didn’t care.
Not then.
“I convinced myself it was coincidence,” he said.
“For seven years?”
“No.”
He looked away.
“After your second anniversary, I saw him again.”
“Where?”
“At that same law firm.”
My body turned cold.
“Why?”
“I followed him.”
“You followed my husband?”
“Yes.”
“What happened?”
“He met with a clerk who worked there.”
“Who?”
“I never knew her name.”
Melissa asked, “Can you describe her?”
Dad nodded.
Older woman.
Red hair.
Glasses.
Melissa wrote it down.
I felt like I was watching another person’s life.
“What did Ryan do?”
“He left carrying a file.”
“Did you confront him?”
“No.”
“Did you tell me?”
“No.”
I stared at Dad.
“Why?”
“He was your husband.”
“So?”
“I had no proof.”
“You could have warned me.”
“I was afraid you would think I was trying to destroy your marriage.”
“Maybe I would have.”
Tears burned my eyes.
“But at least I would have had the truth.”
Dad lowered his head.
“You’re right.”
The anger drained out of me almost as quickly as it came.
Not forgiveness.
Exhaustion.
Detective Alvarez cleared his throat.
“This may give us another avenue.”
I looked at him.
“What avenue?”
“If Ryan targeted Claire because of the trust, we need to determine how he knew it existed.”
Melissa nodded.
“And who gave him access to confidential estate documents.”
Dad described the woman again.
Melissa made two calls.
Within twenty minutes, she had a name.
Sandra Bell.
Former records administrator.
Retired four years ago.
Current address outside Murfreesboro.
Alvarez contacted local authorities.
Then my phone rang.
Not Ryan.
Jason.
His brother.
Alvarez nodded for me to answer on speaker.
“Hello?”
“Claire?”
Jason sounded panicked.
“Where is Ryan?”
I looked at Alvarez.
“I don’t know.”
“You need to tell the police to stop looking for him.”
“Why?”
“Because he’s scared.”
“So am I.”
“He isn’t going to hurt you.”
My throat tightened.
“How do you know what I’m afraid of?”
Silence.
“Jason?”
He exhaled.
“I know about the insurance.”
Dad stood.
I stared at the phone.
“How?”
“Ryan told me.”
“When?”
“Months ago.”
“And you never thought I should know?”
“He said you knew.”
I laughed bitterly.
“Everybody thought I knew everything.”
Jason’s voice cracked.
“Claire, I’m sorry.”
“Were you at my hotel last night?”
“No.”
“Don’t lie to me.”
“I wasn’t.”
“Dad thinks he recognized you.”
“Your dad has met me four times.”
Alvarez wrote something on a pad.
Where are you?
I asked.
“Where are you right now?”
Jason hesitated.
“At home.”
“Can police confirm that?”
“What?”
“Can they?”
Another pause.
“Yes.”
Alvarez stepped away to check.
I continued.
“Why did Ryan tell you about the insurance?”
“He asked me something.”
“What?”
Jason was silent long enough that my heartbeat sped up.
“He asked if I would take care of Mom if something happened.”
“What kind of something?”
“He didn’t say.”
“Jason.”
“He was losing money.”
“What money?”
“Investments.”
“What investments?”
“I don’t know. Crypto. Property. Some private company.”
Dad muttered, “That’s where the rest went.”
Jason heard him.
“Is your father there?”
“Yes.”
“Ask him about Silver Oaks.”
Dad froze.
I turned.
“What is Silver Oaks?”
He shook his head.
“I don’t know.”
Jason laughed nervously.
“Sure he doesn’t.”
Dad grabbed the phone.
“What are you talking about?”
“Ask Margaret’s old records clerk.”
The line disconnected.
I looked at Dad.
“You really don’t know?”
“No.”
For once, I believed him.
Alvarez returned.
“Jason appears to be at his home. Local officers just confirmed.”
“So he wasn’t at the hotel.”
“Probably not.”
My stomach tightened.
Then who was?
Melissa searched the name Silver Oaks.
Nothing obvious.
A corporation.
A road.
A retirement community.
Then Dad remembered something.
“My father used to say Silver Oaks.”
I stared at him.
“My grandfather?”
“Yes.”
“What was it?”
“I thought it was a horse farm.”
Melissa searched property records.
Her expression changed.
“There was a Silver Oaks Farm outside Franklin.”
“Was?”
“Sold fourteen years ago.”
“To who?”
She stared at the screen.
“Margaret Whitmore.”
My grandmother.
I whispered, “Another property?”
“Maybe.”
Melissa clicked through several records.
Then frowned.
“No. She sold it again nine months later.”
“To who?”
“Thomas and Elaine Bennett.”
My heart stopped.
“Bennett?”
Ryan’s parents were Thomas and Diane.
Not Elaine.
But Thomas was Ryan’s father’s name.
I looked at Melissa.
“Who is Elaine?”
She searched.
Then slowly raised her eyes.
“Elaine Bennett was married to Thomas Bennett before Diane.”
Dad stared at her.
“Ryan’s father?”
“Yes.”
My chest tightened.
“What does my grandmother have to do with Ryan’s family?”
Nobody answered.
Melissa kept searching.
Then she found an obituary.
Elaine Bennett.
Died twenty-three years ago.
Survived by husband Thomas.
Son Ryan.
Son Jason.
My pulse hammered.
Ryan had been a child.
Dad leaned closer.
“What did she die from?”
Melissa read silently.
Then looked at us.
“Car accident.”
The room became very still.
“Why does that matter?” I asked.
Dad looked pale.
“Because your grandmother had an accident that same year.”
I turned to him.
“What?”
“She survived.”
“When?”
“Three weeks before Elaine Bennett died.”
Melissa searched archived articles.
She found one.
Two-car collision on Highway 96.
Margaret Whitmore suffered minor injuries.
The other driver was Thomas Bennett.
Ryan’s father.
I stopped breathing.
Dad whispered, “Oh my God.”
Melissa clicked another article.
Three weeks later.
Elaine Bennett died when her car left the road during heavy rain.
No other vehicle involved.
I looked at the note Ryan left.
If you wanted the truth, you should have asked your father what he did before we ever met.
Maybe Ryan had been wrong.
Maybe the secret wasn’t Dad’s.
Maybe it started with Grandma.
Then Alvarez’s phone rang.
He answered.
His expression changed almost immediately.
“Where?”
He listened.
“We’re coming.”
“What happened?” I asked.
He looked at me.
“They found Ryan’s car.”
“Where?”
“At Silver Oaks Farm.”
I froze.
“I thought it was sold.”
“It was.”
“To Ryan’s father.”
Alvarez grabbed his jacket.
“And according to county records, the Bennett family still owns it.”
Dad looked at him.
“Is Ryan there?”
“We don’t know.”
“What did they find?”
Alvarez hesitated.
May you like
Then answered.
“Blood on the driver’s seat.”
