Chapter 7
I didn’t scream.
I didn’t cry.
I held Lily tighter.
That was all.
Ethan stared at the phone like he had stopped understanding English.
Officer Bennett kept talking.
“Emily, listen carefully. No one is trading anyone.”
“I know.”
“If Marcus contacts you directly, do not agree to meet him.”
“I know.”
“Do not leave the house.”
“I know.”
But my mind was already moving.
If Marcus thought Samantha had documents, why take Samantha?
Because she had hidden them.
Or because he believed she could lead him to them.
And why mention Lily?
Because he knew exactly how to frighten us.
After the call ended, Ethan stood by the wall.
“I brought this to you.”
“No.”
“My family did.”
“That part is true.”
He winced.
I didn’t soften it.
Not anymore.
But I added, “Marcus made his choices. Patricia made hers.”
“And I made mine.”
“Yes.”
He nodded.
Rachel looked between us.
“This marriage discussion can happen later. Right now we find Samantha.”
Noah was searching public records again.
“Her house is owned by a trust.”
“What trust?”
He zoomed in.
“Brooks Family Trust.”
“Adoptive parents?”
“Probably.”
A second search showed Samantha’s adoptive father had died six years earlier.
Her adoptive mother, Helen Brooks, was alive.
Age sixty-eight.
Address in Frisco.
Ethan called Officer Bennett back and gave her the information.
Police were dispatched.
Twenty minutes later, Bennett called again.
Helen was safe.
And furious.
She refused to speak by phone.
But she agreed to come to the station.
Ethan wanted to go.
Bennett told him no.
“Marcus knows your face. He knows your vehicle. Stay where you are.”
So we waited.
I had never understood how exhausting fear could be.
Every sound became a threat.
A delivery truck stopping outside.
A dog barking.
Footsteps from the neighbor’s yard.
Lily sneezing.
By late afternoon, I had barely eaten.
Rachel put a sandwich in front of me.
“You need food.”
The words instantly reminded me of Patricia.
You need this.
You’re doing that wrong.
I pushed the plate away.
Rachel noticed.
Then she changed her approach.
“I’m leaving this here.”
She walked away.
I ate ten minutes later.
That small difference almost made me cry.
At four, Officer Bennett arrived with a detective named Warren.
He was broad-shouldered, quiet, and carried a paper folder.
“Helen Brooks gave us permission to share some information.”
Ethan sat forward.
“Is Samantha alive?”
“We believe so.”
“Why?”
“Because Marcus contacted Helen.”
“When?”
“Less than an hour ago.”
“What did he want?”
“The original trust documents.”
Ethan clenched his jaw.
“Does Helen have them?”
“No.”
“Who does?”
Detective Warren opened the folder.
“Samantha.”
Noah said, “Then Marcus already has her.”
“Yes.”
“Why hasn’t he taken the documents?”
“Because Samantha hid them.”
“Where?”
“Helen doesn’t know.”
Warren looked at Ethan.
“But she thinks Daniel gave Samantha something else.”
“What?”
“A safe-deposit key.”
Ethan frowned.
“When?”
“Samantha was less than a year old when Daniel arranged the trust protections. Helen said Daniel visited them shortly before his death.”
“Why was he involved with Samantha?”
Warren hesitated.
“Helen says Daniel knew Samantha was Patricia’s biological child.”
“And Marcus’s.”
“Yes.”
“Why would he help them?”
“According to Helen, Daniel considered Samantha innocent.”
Ethan looked down.
Of course he did.
Daniel had been betrayed by his wife.
Yet he protected the child created by that betrayal.
I suddenly understood why Ethan’s memories of him were so strong.
Daniel had been the one decent adult in the story.
Warren continued.
“Helen says Daniel suspected Marcus was stealing from his company and using Patricia to move money.”
“Did he have proof?”
“Possibly.”
“In the safe-deposit box?”
“Possibly.”
Rachel asked, “Then this isn’t just inheritance money.”
“No.”
Warren opened another file.
“Daniel had started collecting evidence.”
Bank transfers.
Invoices.
Shell companies.
Property purchases.
If the records still existed, they could prove fraud dating back decades.
Maybe more.
“Why would Marcus care now?” Noah asked. “Statutes of limitation?”
Warren nodded.
“For some offenses, yes. But if there was evidence connected to Daniel’s death, that changes things.”
Ethan stared at him.
“You think my father was murdered.”
“I think the original crash deserves another look.”
Silence.
Then Detective Warren said something I hadn’t expected.
“There’s one more person.”
I felt cold.
“Who?”
“Robert Keene.”
The lawyer.
Warren placed a photograph on the table.
It showed Marcus, Patricia, and Robert Keene leaving a restaurant.
The timestamp was four weeks old.
Ethan looked at it.
“So Mom was meeting Marcus willingly.”
“Yes.”
“She lied about him blackmailing her.”
“Maybe.”
Rachel shook her head.
“Why does everyone keep giving this woman the benefit of the doubt?”
Warren didn’t react.
“Because assumptions destroy cases.”
Fair enough.
Then he pointed to the photo.
“According to Helen Brooks, Keene helped prepare the original trust.”
Noah leaned forward.
“He was Daniel’s lawyer?”
“Junior associate at the firm.”
My stomach tightened.
The same man preparing papers to take Lily from me had helped create the trust decades earlier.
That wasn’t coincidence.
A phone rang.
Not mine.
Not Ethan’s.
Detective Warren checked his.
His face changed immediately.
“Yes?”
He listened.
Then stood.
“Where?”
Another pause.
“Don’t approach.”
He ended the call.
“What happened?” Ethan asked.
“Marcus was seen.”
“Where?”
“At Samantha’s preschool.”
I looked at the clock.
The school was closed.
Warren turned toward the door.
“Stay here.”
Ethan stood.
“That’s my sister.”
“And you walking into an armed suspect situation won’t help her.”
“Armed?”
Warren stopped.
“We don’t know that he is.”
Which meant police believed he might be.
The detective left.
Ethan paced.
Ten minutes.
Twenty.
Forty.
Nothing.
At 5:17, my phone rang.
Unknown number.
Everyone froze.
I answered on speaker.
“Hello?”
A woman whispered, “Emily?”
I looked at Ethan.
“Who is this?”
“Samantha.”
Ethan grabbed the edge of the table.
“Where are you?”
“Is Ethan there?”
“Yes.”
“Put him on.”
“You’re on speaker.”
Silence.
Then she whispered, “Hi.”
Ethan’s face crumpled.
“Samantha?”
“Yes.”
“Are you okay?”
“I don’t know.”
“Where are you?”
“I got away.”
“From Marcus?”
“He came to my house.”
“Did he hurt you?”
“I’m okay.”
“Tell us where you are.”
“I can’t.”
“Why?”
“Because I don’t know who to trust.”
Ethan looked devastated.
“You can trust the police.”
“I tried that years ago.”
“What happened?”
“My mother stopped it.”
Patricia.
Samantha continued.
“I found Daniel’s documents when my dad—my adoptive dad—died.”
“What was in them?”
“Proof.”
“Of what?”
“Everything.”
She started crying.
“Marcus stealing money. Patricia helping him. The night Daniel died.”
Ethan whispered, “You have proof of what happened to my father?”
“Yes.”
“What happened?”
Samantha inhaled shakily.
“Daniel recorded a conversation.”
“With who?”
“Patricia.”
The room went still.
“What did she say?”
Samantha’s voice broke.
“She told him Marcus had threatened to make sure his car never reached Fort Worth.”
Ethan gripped the table.
“And Daniel still drove that night?”
“He was going to meet a detective.”
My heart sank.
Samantha continued.
“He never made it.”
Ethan’s eyes filled.
“Where is the recording?”
“In the safe-deposit box.”
“Where’s the key?”
“With me.”
“Then go to police.”
“I can’t.”
“Why?”
“Because Marcus told me something.”
“What?”
“He said one of the detectives helping your family is working for him.”
Nobody moved.
I looked toward the door through which Detective Warren had just left.
Samantha whispered, “And he gave me a name.”
Ethan swallowed.
May you like
“What name?”
“Bennett.”
