Chapter 10: The Woman Waiting in My Bedroom
The photograph of our open front door was still glowing on my phone when Detective Sullivan ordered everyone away from the windows.
"Nobody leaves this building until I know who's sending these messages," he said.
My father barely seemed to hear him.
"Denise is inside my house," Richard whispered.
"She's been inside that house all night.""
Daniel stood against the wall, his hands cuffed behind him.
"You don't understand. She won't stop now. She knows the original file is the only thing connecting her to what happened seven years ago.""
Sullivan tightened his grip on Daniel's arm.
"Then tell me where she took it.""
"I don't know.""
"You expect me to believe that?""
"I expect you to understand that Denise doesn't trust anyone, including me.""
My father stepped closer.
"You've been my attorney for fifteen years. You watched my daughter grow up. You sat beside me at my wife's funeral. And now you expect me to believe you knew nothing about this?""
Daniel lowered his head.
"I knew about the trust transfers. I didn't know Denise intended to hurt your wife.""
"That's not an answer.""
"It's the only one I have.""
I looked at Daniel's briefcase, which lay open on the floor. Several documents had spilled onto the carpet, including a copy of the trust amendment and a photograph of my mother standing outside a bank.
Something about that photograph bothered me.
"Daniel," I said, "why did Mom go to that bank?""
He looked up.
"She opened a private account there before she married your father.""
"Did she leave money?""
"No. She deposited documents.""
"What documents?""
Daniel hesitated.
"Evidence of financial fraud. She believed someone had been using your father's signature to transfer money out of the trust.""
"Did she tell you who?""
"No.""
I studied his face.
"You're lying.""
He flinched.
"Olivia—"
"You've lied to my father for years. You helped someone forge his signature. You knew about the hospital. And now you're telling me you have no idea what my mother discovered?""
Daniel's expression crumpled.
"Your mother discovered that the trust had a hidden beneficiary.""
My father froze.
"What?""
Daniel continued, his voice barely audible.
"Someone had altered the original agreement to create a second claim against the family estate. If the amendment became legally binding, the hidden beneficiary would eventually gain control of the trust.""
"Who was the beneficiary?"" I asked.
Daniel stared at the floor.
"I never saw the final page.""
"Who?""
He finally looked at me.
"Michael Reeves.""
The name landed like a blow.
"The accountant?"" my father demanded.
Daniel nodded.
"Your wife discovered that Michael had been receiving payments through companies connected to Denise. She believed they were preparing to take control of the estate.""
Sullivan stepped forward.
"Why didn't you report it?""
"Because Denise had evidence that could destroy my career. She knew I'd signed documents without properly verifying the authorization. I thought I could correct the problem quietly.""
"And when your client died?""
Daniel's eyes filled with tears.
"I panicked.""
My father looked as though he might strike him.
"You let me bury my wife believing she'd died in an accident.""
"I know.""
"You watched me raise my daughter while the people responsible stayed in my house.""
"I know!""
Daniel's voice broke.
For a moment, nobody spoke.
Then Sullivan's radio crackled.
An officer had located the abandoned vehicle Denise used to leave the warehouse. It was parked near the entrance to a residential street less than two miles from our home.
The vehicle was empty.
On the passenger seat lay a fresh white rose.
My father grabbed his coat.
"We're going home.""
Sullivan shook his head.
"We'll go with a tactical team. Nobody approaches the house alone.""
I looked at my phone again.
The message had been sent from an unknown number, but the photograph contained a detail I'd recognized: the brass knocker on our front door, shaped like a lion's head.
The camera angle came from inside the house.
Whoever took it was already there.
"She's waiting for me," I said.
My father turned sharply.
"Absolutely not.""
"Look at the message. She sent it to my phone, not yours.""
"That doesn't mean you have to walk into a trap.""
"She wants the key. She wants whatever Mom left me. If we don't bring it to her, she'll keep hurting people until she gets it.""
Sullivan studied me.
"She's right about one thing. Denise wants something Olivia has.""
My father shook his head.
"She's my daughter. I'm not using her as bait.""
"You won't," I said.
"But I won't let you pretend that keeping me away from the truth will make me safer.""
He stared at me for several seconds.
Finally, he took my hands.
"Promise me you'll stay behind the officers.""
"I promise.""
It was the first promise I'd made all night that I wasn't certain I could keep.
We reached the Carter residence shortly before one in the morning.
Police vehicles surrounded the property, their headlights illuminating the stone driveway. Officers moved through the garden, checking the windows and the rear entrance.
The front door stood open.
Inside, the chandelier was lit.
Everything appeared untouched.
Except for the dining table.
The broken glass from dinner had been swept away. The chairs were arranged neatly, and the white tablecloth had been replaced.
In the center of the table sat my mother's wooden jewelry box.
Beside it lay the original photograph of me sleeping in my bedroom.
My father stopped breathing for a moment.
"She's been here," he whispered.
Sullivan signaled the officers to clear the ground floor.
They searched the kitchen, the study, and the library.
No one.
Then James appeared at the top of the staircase.
His face was bloodless.
"Mr. Carter," he called.
"You need to come upstairs.""
My father ran toward him.
I followed.
James stood outside my bedroom, holding a small envelope.
"The room was locked from the inside," he said.
"I heard someone moving around, but when I opened the door, nobody was there.""
Sullivan inspected the lock.
"Was anything disturbed?""
James looked at me.
"Only one thing, Miss Olivia.""
He handed me the envelope.
Inside was a photograph of my mother holding me as a baby.
On the back, she'd written:
The truth isn't hidden where you look. It's hidden where you refuse to look.
I turned toward the framed photograph above my bed.
The same picture.
My mother had left me a message years before I understood what it meant.
I lifted the frame from the wall.
Behind it was a narrow compartment cut into the plaster.
It was empty.
My father swore under his breath.
Then I noticed a fresh scratch along the wooden edge.
Someone had removed something recently.
Sullivan crouched beside the wall.
"Whatever was hidden here, Denise took it.""
A voice came from the hallway.
"Not everything.""
We turned.
Denise stood at the far end of the corridor, wearing the same emerald dress she'd worn to dinner. Her hair was perfectly arranged, but a dark smear marked one sleeve.
In her hand was a small black pistol.
She pointed it directly at me.
"Hello, Olivia," she said.
My father stepped in front of me.
"Put the gun down, Denise.""
She smiled.
"Not until she gives me the key.""
And behind her, emerging from the shadows, was Michael Reeves.
May you like
He was holding a folder.
"Richard," he said, "I think it's time your daughter learned what her mother was really planning.""
