Chapter 7: The Grandfather Who Was Supposed to Be Dead
For thirteen years, I had believed my maternal grandfather was buried in a cemetery outside Savannah.
My mother had cried when she told me he was gone. My father had held her through the funeral arrangements, and I remembered standing beside her while she placed a white rose on an empty-looking casket.
Now Thomas Hale was showing me a photograph of that same grandfather standing beside my mother on the night she died.
I snatched the photograph from his hand.
"Where did you get this?""
Thomas adjusted his coat as if we were discussing the weather.
"Your grandfather gave it to me.""
"He's dead.""
"Is he?""
Margaret stepped between us.
"Thomas, if you intend to make accusations, you should be prepared to substantiate them.""
He chuckled.
"Still playing attorney, Margaret? Some habits die harder than people.""
Daniel moved closer to me.
"Why did you tell me to leave town?""
Thomas's smile disappeared.
"Because I was trying to protect you.""
"From what? The mother you told me abandoned me?""
Thomas looked at him with theatrical disappointment.
"Your mother was a troubled woman. Sarah made reckless decisions, and your grandfather spent years cleaning up her messes.""
"Then why did you hide the adoption records?""
"Because you weren't ready to understand them.""
Daniel clenched his fists.
"I'm twenty-six years old.""
"And yet you still believe every stranger who tells you what you want to hear.""
Thomas opened his briefcase again and produced a second photograph.
This one showed a man entering a private clinic, his face partially obscured by a baseball cap.
I recognized the profile immediately.
My grandfather, Richard Bennett.
Thomas tapped the photograph.
"Your grandfather didn't die when your family was told he did. He arranged a false death certificate and disappeared after your mother's accident.""
I stared at him.
"Why would he do that?""
"Because Sarah had discovered what he had done with her inheritance.""
The words hit me harder than I expected.
"You're saying my grandfather stole from my mother?""
"I'm saying the Bennetts built their fortune on secrets. Your mother eventually decided she wanted to expose them.""
Margaret shook her head.
"Richard was reported dead after a private medical emergency. If you're claiming that was fabricated, you'll need more than a photograph.""
Thomas handed her a document.
"Then perhaps you'll find this interesting.""
It was a copy of a death certificate.
Richard Bennett's name appeared at the top, followed by a date thirteen years earlier. But beneath the physician's signature was a registration number that didn't match the format used by the county listed on the document.
Margaret studied it.
"This could be forged.""
"Of course it could," Thomas replied.
"Everything can be forged, Margaret. That's why people like me keep the originals.""
He returned the document to his briefcase.
I stepped toward him.
"Why are you telling us this?""
"Because you're about to make a very expensive mistake. Your mother's trust contains assets that were never meant to belong to you or Daniel. Sarah manipulated the paperwork to keep control of money that belonged to the family.""
"Then why does the trust agreement name us as beneficiaries?"" Daniel demanded.
Thomas's expression hardened.
"Because your mother wanted to punish everyone who disappointed her.""
He turned toward me.
"Give me the journal. I'll arrange a settlement. Enough money for you to buy a house, finish your education, and live comfortably for the rest of your life.""
I stared at him in disbelief.
"You think you can buy me off?""
"I think you're twenty-two, frightened, and suddenly convinced that your entire childhood was a conspiracy. I'm offering you a way out.""
"And if I refuse?""
Thomas closed the briefcase.
"Then you will discover that your mother was not the innocent woman you've imagined.""
He opened the driver's door of his SUV.
Before getting in, he glanced at Daniel.
"Come home. We'll talk about this privately.""
Daniel didn't move.
Thomas's face tightened.
"Don't make me regret raising you.""
Daniel's voice shook with anger.
"You didn't raise me. You raised a lie.""
For the first time, Thomas looked genuinely furious.
He slammed the door and drove away, leaving a cloud of dust behind him.
Nobody spoke until the SUV disappeared around the bend.
Margaret took the photograph from my hand.
"We need to preserve this and report what happened.""
Daniel shook his head.
"There's something else.""
He reached into his pocket and removed a small brass key.
"Thomas kept a safe deposit box at a private bank. I found the key in his desk when I was eighteen. He caught me looking through his papers, and that was the first time he hit me.""
My heart tightened.
"Why didn't you tell anyone?""
"Because he told me nobody would believe me. He said he'd make sure I went to prison if I ever tried to expose him.""
Daniel turned the key over in his palm.
"I kept it because I thought someday I'd understand what he was hiding.""
Margaret examined it.
"Do you know which bank?""
"Peachtree National. The key has a number stamped on it.""
She wrote the number down.
"Tomorrow morning, we'll find out whether the box still exists.""
I looked at the photograph of my grandfather.
"How can we find him?""
Margaret's expression grew serious.
"If he's alive, someone has been protecting him for thirteen years. That means he either has powerful allies or possesses information someone is willing to kill to keep hidden.""
My phone vibrated.
A message from an unknown number.
Stop looking for Richard Bennett.
Another message followed.
He knows what happened to Sarah.
Then a third.
And he knows who was driving the second car.
I showed Margaret.
She immediately called the police.
While she spoke to the dispatcher, Daniel studied the messages over my shoulder.
"Someone is watching us," he whispered.
I looked across the deserted road.
A dark sedan sat beneath a streetlight at the far end of the lot.
Its headlights were off.
Its engine was running.
As we watched, the driver's window lowered.
A pale hand emerged, holding something rectangular.
A photograph.
The driver raised it toward us.
Even from a distance, I could see my mother's face.
Then the car pulled away.
Daniel grabbed my wrist.
"Emily, we need to go.""
"Why?""
He stared at the disappearing taillights.
"Because that photograph wasn't of your mother.""
May you like
He swallowed hard.
"It was of the woman who was supposed to be buried with her.""
