Chapter 4: The Secret My Mother Took to Her Grave
My phone vibrated again, but I didn't look at it.
I couldn't take my eyes off my father.
“What did Mom discover?”” I asked.
Dad's face had gone gray. Vanessa stood beside the storage room door, her hands clenched at her sides, staring at the blue envelope as though it were a lit match near a leaking gas line.
“Emily, this has gone far enough,” Dad said.
“Give me the documents. I'll explain everything upstairs.””
“You've had seven years to explain everything.””
“Please.””
“Why did you tell me Mom left me nothing?””
He looked toward Vanessa.
That tiny movement answered a question he hadn't spoken aloud.
Vanessa stepped forward.
“Your father was trying to protect you from financial matters you weren't old enough to understand.””
“I'm nineteen.””
“And you clearly don't understand what you're holding.””
“Then tell me.””
She extended her hand again.
“Give me the envelope.””
I backed toward the garage entrance.
“No.””
Vanessa's lips tightened.
“You have no idea how much trouble you're creating.””
“I didn't create anything. I found a letter my mother left for me.””
“And you think a letter makes you an expert in estate law?””
“No. I think stealing from me makes you a criminal.””
Her hand shot toward the envelope.
I twisted away, and the papers slipped from my fingers. They scattered across the concrete floor.
Dad dropped to his knees to collect them.
I bent to grab the letter first, but Vanessa stepped on one of the pages.
“Move your foot,” I demanded.
“Don't speak to me that way.””
“Move it!””
Dad stood abruptly.
“Vanessa, get your foot off that document.””
She stared at him.
For the first time that evening, he wasn't asking her to calm down. He was ordering her to stop.
She lifted her foot.
I snatched the page away.
Dad gathered the remaining papers and handed them to me without looking at the writing.
“Emily, I know how this looks,” he said.
“But there are things about your mother's estate you don't understand.””
“Then start explaining.””
He swallowed.
“Your mother established the trust before she became seriously ill. She wanted to make sure you had money for college and a place to live. I agreed to manage the assets until you were old enough to take control.””
“Then why didn't you tell me?””
“Because the situation changed.””
“How?””
He rubbed his face.
“There were debts. Business expenses. Legal complications.””
“Did you spend the money?””
His silence was immediate and terrible.
Vanessa stepped between us.
“Michael, don't let her interrogate you like this.””
I stared at her.
“Why are you so afraid of this envelope?””
“I'm not afraid of anything.””
“Then you won't mind if I call the attorney Mom listed.””
Her eyes widened.
Dad noticed.
“Which attorney?”” he asked.
I showed him the name on the letter.
“Margaret Ellis.””
His expression changed so dramatically that I almost dropped the envelope.
He knew her.
“Where did you get that name?”” he whispered.
“From Mom's letter.””
He sat down on an old storage crate.
“Margaret handled your mother's estate,” he said.
“She was supposed to contact you when you turned eighteen.””
“Did she?””
“No.””
“Why not?””
Dad looked toward Vanessa again.
She shook her head slightly.
It was a small movement, but I saw it.
“Dad,” I said, “did you stop her?””
He didn't answer.
My phone vibrated a third time.
I stepped away from them and read the message.
*The man in the bank photograph is Daniel Price. He worked in your mother's financial office. He has records showing where the trust money went.*
Another message followed.
*Your mother found out that money was being moved before she died. She made copies of the records because she suspected someone close to her.*
I looked up at Vanessa.
She was watching my phone.
“Who are you texting?”” she demanded.
“Someone who seems to know more about my mother's estate than you want me to know.””
“Give me your phone.””
I almost laughed.
“You hit me, accused me of stealing, and now you want my phone?””
“Emily!”” Dad shouted.
I flinched.
He immediately looked ashamed, but the damage was done.
“I'm sorry,” he said.
“I just need everyone to stop.””
“Then make her stop.””
Vanessa grabbed her purse.
“I'm not staying here to be treated like a criminal.””
She marched toward the door, but before leaving, she turned to Dad.
“You said the documents were gone.””
Dad's face drained of color.
She seemed to realize what she'd said.
Then she hurried outside.
The garage door slammed.
I stared at my father.
“What documents?””
He stood slowly.
“Emily, listen to me. Your mother was sick, and she was frightened. She sometimes believed people were trying to take advantage of her.””
“Was she wrong?””
He looked at the blue envelope.
“I don't know anymore.””
“That's not good enough.””
“I know.””
For a moment, I saw the father who had held my hand at Mom's funeral, who had made pancakes for me on Sunday mornings and promised that we'd always have each other.
Then I remembered the seven years of missing photographs, unanswered questions, and an inheritance he had never mentioned.
“I'm calling Margaret Ellis,” I told him.
Dad nodded weakly.
“That's probably best.””
I expected him to stop me.
Instead, he walked past me toward the house, his shoulders slumped.
I watched him disappear through the doorway before looking at my phone again.
The unknown sender had sent a final message.
*Call Margaret tonight. But don't tell her you're alone. Someone has been watching the house, and Vanessa knows the trust records still exist.*
I looked toward the driveway.
Vanessa's car was gone.
But beneath the security light near the street, a dark sedan sat with its engine running.
May you like
And through the windshield, I could see someone holding up a phone.
Pointed directly at me.
