Chapter 8
Frank laughed softly.
“That’s right.”
Michael put the phone on speaker.
Detective Alvarez raised a finger, signaling everyone to stay quiet.
Michael stared at the screen.
“Where is my mother?”
“With me.”
Diane’s voice suddenly came through.
“Michael, don’t—”
The line muffled.
Then Frank returned.
“She’s emotional.”
“What did you do to her?”
“Nothing.”
“Let me speak to her.”
“You already did.”
“Frank.”
The detective quietly began tracing the call.
Frank’s tone remained almost friendly.
“You sound like Robert.”
Michael’s face changed.
“Don’t say his name.”
“Why?”
“Because you betrayed him.”
Frank sighed.
“We all betrayed each other.”
“Did you poison him?”
Silence.
Not long.
Maybe two seconds.
But enough.
Frank laughed again.
“Straight to the point.”
“Yes.”
“No.”
“Did Diane?”
“No.”
Michael looked at Alvarez.
“Then who did?”
“Robert was dying.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“He had cancer.”
“And arsenic in his blood.”
Frank became quiet.
“How do you know that?”
Michael looked at me.
There it was.
Fear.
“Dad left evidence.”
“That evidence is incomplete.”
“So you’ve seen it.”
Frank cursed softly.
Michael continued.
“Aaron has it.”
Another silence.
Then Frank said, “Aaron doesn’t understand what he has.”
“He understands enough.”
“No.”
Frank’s voice hardened.
“He’s an angry boy who thinks documents explain people.”
“He’s thirty-six.”
“He’ll always be a boy to me.”
Michael laughed bitterly.
“You sound like Mom.”
Frank did not appreciate that.
“Listen carefully.”
“No. You listen.”
Michael’s voice became steady.
“For twenty years, I thought my father died from cancer while my mother struggled to keep us alive.”
Frank said nothing.
“I learned yesterday she lied about his money.”
Silence.
“She hid another son.”
Silence.
“She stole from my children.”
Silence.
“And now I learn my father suspected someone poisoned him.”
Frank sighed.
“What do you want?”
“The truth.”
“Truth is expensive.”
Michael looked at the phone.
“Is that why you came back? Twelve million dollars?”
Frank became silent again.
Michael smiled without humor.
“So Aaron was right.”
“Aaron talks too much.”
“Where is my mother?”
“Safe.”
“Put her on.”
“No.”
Detective Alvarez whispered, “Keep him talking.”
Michael continued.
“Did you kill my father?”
Frank’s voice dropped.
“No.”
“Did you help my mother steal his estate?”
“Yes.”
No hesitation.
Michael froze.
Frank continued.
“I’m tired of pretending.”
“Why?”
“Because some of it was mine.”
“The land?”
“Yes.”
“My father put it in his trust.”
“Your father stole the land from our company.”
“That’s your claim.”
“That’s the truth.”
“So you forged documents?”
“No.”
“Mom did?”
Frank laughed.
“Diane was always better with signatures.”
Michael shut his eyes.
“Did you know she took our insurance money?”
“Yes.”
“How much did you get?”
“Most.”
Jason, standing behind us, clenched his fists.
Michael asked, “Why?”
“Because Robert owed me.”
“For sleeping with his wife?”
Frank’s tone sharpened.
“Careful.”
“No.”
Michael stepped closer to the phone as though Frank stood in front of him.
“You slept with your best friend’s wife for seven years.”
“Your father wasn’t innocent.”
“What did he do?”
“He controlled everything.”
“Money?”
“Business. Property. Decisions.”
“That doesn’t explain Mom.”
“No.”
Frank’s voice softened.
“Diane and I loved each other.”
Michael looked sick.
“You loved her enough to let her remain married to him?”
“We had complications.”
“You mean money.”
Frank laughed.
“Maybe you really are Robert’s son.”
The detective motioned.
Thirty seconds.
Michael asked, “Why was Aaron hidden?”
That changed Frank.
“Diane’s choice.”
“She says her parents forced her to give him away.”
Frank laughed bitterly.
“She told you that?”
“Yes.”
“Diane never gave Aaron away.”
Michael frowned.
“What?”
“She visited him.”
“When?”
“Constantly.”
Aaron had said she wrote letters.
Frank now claimed more.
“She spent weekends with him.”
Michael stared.
“While we were children?”
“Yes.”
Jason whispered, “No.”
Frank heard.
“Jason there too?”
Michael ignored the question.
“Where did she tell Dad she was going?”
“To see her sister. Conferences. Church retreats.”
Memories were shifting again.
Every absence.
Every unexplained weekend.
Diane had another family.
Michael’s voice dropped.
“Did she love Aaron more than us?”
Frank laughed.
“That’s the question of a child.”
“Answer it.”
“Diane loves possession.”
The words landed hard.
“She loves whoever makes her feel necessary.”
Michael looked away.
Frank continued.
“When Aaron was young, he needed her.”
“When I was young, I needed her.”
“Yes.”
“And when we stopped?”
“She found ways to make you need her again.”
The college money.
The false poverty.
The emotional promises.
The constant crises.
Michael understood.
So did I.
The detective pointed toward his phone.
Trace complete.
Frank said, “You should leave the land alone.”
“No.”
“It isn’t yours.”
“It belongs to the trust.”
“Legally, maybe.”
“So you admit that too.”
“You think law equals justice?”
“No.”
“Good.”
Frank’s voice hardened.
“Then understand this: I spent thirty years building that company with Robert.”
“And sleeping with his wife.”
“Enough.”
“You called me.”
“I called to give you a warning.”
“Which is?”
“Walk away from the land.”
“Or?”
Frank paused.
Michael repeated, “Or what?”
“You have children.”
My skin went cold.
Michael’s face changed instantly.
The detective stepped closer.
Michael’s voice became dangerous.
“Never mention my children.”
“Then protect them.”
“If you go near them—”
“Michael.”
Diane’s voice suddenly broke through.
“Please listen to him.”
Michael froze.
“Mom?”
“Take Sarah and the kids away.”
“Where are you?”
“Don’t look for me.”
“Are you there willingly?”
Diane started crying.
“Just let this go.”
“Did Frank poison Dad?”
Silence.
“Mom.”
She whispered, “I don’t know.”
“Did you?”
“No.”
“Did you know Dad was being poisoned?”
Diane sobbed.
“I knew he thought he was.”
“That isn’t what I asked.”
“I knew something was wrong.”
“When?”
“Near the end.”
“Why didn’t you help him?”
Diane cried harder.
“I was afraid.”
“Of Dad?”
“No.”
“Of Frank?”
Silence.
Michael stared at the phone.
“Mom?”
Frank’s voice returned.
“That’s enough.”
The call ended.
Detective Alvarez immediately spoke into his radio.
“We have a location.”
Within minutes, police vehicles moved.
Frank’s call had originated from a motel forty miles north.
We were ordered not to follow.
This time I listened.
Michael didn’t.
He demanded to go.
Alvarez refused.
“If Frank threatened your children, you go home and secure them.”
That argument worked.
We collected Ethan and Lily from Rachel.
Michael told them Grandma had made serious mistakes and we would not see her for a while.
Ethan asked, “Is she going to jail?”
Michael hesitated.
“I don’t know.”
Lily whispered, “Will she pull my hair again?”
Michael’s face broke.
“No.”
He knelt in front of her.
“Never.”
“How do you know?”
“Because I won’t let her.”
That night, two patrol cars drove through our neighborhood repeatedly.
We moved the children into our bedroom.
No one slept.
At 2:13 a.m., Detective Alvarez called.
Michael answered immediately.
“Did you find them?”
“The motel room was empty.”
“Any sign of my mother?”
“Yes.”
My stomach tightened.
“What kind?”
“Her purse was there.”
Michael stood.
“Blood?”
“No blood.”
“Phone?”
“Found smashed in the bathroom.”
“What else?”
“A note.”
“What does it say?”
Alvarez hesitated.
“Michael, we need you to come identify the handwriting.”
He didn’t have to.
Diane had written hundreds of birthday cards.
Holiday notes.
Passive-aggressive letters.
We knew her handwriting.
Alvarez sent a photograph.
Michael opened it.
The note read:
MICHAEL,
I LIED TO YOU ABOUT MANY THINGS.
BUT I DID NOT KILL YOUR FATHER.
FRANK KNOWS WHO DID.
DO NOT TRUST AARON.
HE WANTS YOU TO BELIEVE HE IS A VICTIM.
HE ISN’T.
ASK HIM WHAT HAPPENED TO MRS. DAWSON.
ASK HIM WHY SHE REALLY DIED.
I AM SORRY ABOUT LILY.
I KNOW SORRY IS NOT ENOUGH.
MOM
Michael read it twice.
Then he called Aaron.
No answer.
Again.
No answer.
At 2:29 a.m., Aaron finally texted.
STOP CALLING.
Michael replied.
WHO IS MRS. DAWSON?
Three dots appeared.
Disappeared.
Appeared again.
Finally:
MY GUARDIAN.
Michael typed:
HOW DID SHE DIE?
No answer.
Michael called.
Aaron rejected it.
Then another text appeared.
SHE FELL DOWN THE STAIRS.
Michael stared.
WHEN?
SIX YEARS AGO.
The same year Aaron found Robert’s box.
The same year he contacted Diane.
The same year the blackmail began.
I felt cold.
Michael typed one more question.
DID YOU PUSH HER?
Nothing.
Then Aaron responded.
SHE WAS GOING TO DESTROY THE BOX.
Michael looked at me.
I whispered, “That isn’t a no.”
Before he could reply, someone knocked on our front door.
Three hard knocks.
Michael froze.
It was nearly three in the morning.
He checked the security camera.
A man stood on the porch.
Older.
Gray hair.
Blood on his shirt.
Michael stared at the screen.
I knew before he spoke.
“Frank.”
We called police.
Then Frank looked directly into the camera.
And held up both hands.
One was covered in blood.
The other held a small metal box.
He said something we couldn’t hear.
Michael activated the speaker.
“What do you want?”
Frank looked over his shoulder.
Then back at the camera.
“Let me in.”
“No.”
“Aaron is coming.”
Michael gripped the phone.
“Where is my mother?”
Frank’s face changed.
“He took her.”
“Who?”
“Aaron.”
My stomach dropped.
May you like
Frank lifted the metal box.
“And he’ll kill her to get what’s inside this.”
