Chapter 2: The Woman Who Knew My Mother
"Emily?"" Margaret asked the moment I answered.
"Are you somewhere safe?""
I glanced at Denise.
She stood beside the front door, breathing so quickly that her shoulders rose and fell beneath her silk blouse. Her eyes never left the phone.
"I'm not sure," I said.
Margaret went silent for half a second.
"Are you injured?""
"There's blood on my forehead. My stepmother threw a glass at me.""
"Good heavens. Have you received medical attention?""
"No. She just kicked me out.""
"Emily, listen carefully. Get away from her, and if you need immediate help, call emergency services. Don't let her take those documents.""
Denise rushed toward me.
"Give me the phone!""
I moved behind the sofa.
"Stay away from me!""
"Emily!"" Margaret's voice sharpened.
"Is she trying to take the journal?""
"Yes.""
"Then don't let her.""
Denise stopped abruptly.
The fact that a woman hundreds of miles away could tell what she was doing seemed to frighten her more than the blood on my face.
I lowered my voice.
"Margaret, what is happening? My mother wrote that I should never trust Denise. There's a trust in my name, and I found documents showing Denise knew my mother years before she married my father.""
A long silence followed.
Then Margaret exhaled.
"I was hoping Sarah had found a way to protect you without putting you through this.""
"Protect me from what?""
"From the people who were supposed to love you.""
My stomach tightened.
"Did my father steal my inheritance?""
"I can't answer that until I see the documents. But I can tell you this: Sarah did not die without making arrangements for you.""
I stared at the journal.
"Everyone told me she died in a car accident.""
"That's what the official report says.""
"You're talking like you don't believe it.""
"I'm saying your mother had concerns about the circumstances surrounding her death. She came to my office three weeks before she died and asked me to prepare several documents. She wanted to make certain that if anything happened to her, your future would remain protected.""
"Why didn't you tell me?""
"Because I was instructed to wait until your twenty-second birthday unless a specific condition was met.""
My twenty-second birthday had been six months earlier.
I gripped the phone harder.
"What condition?""
Margaret hesitated.
"The discovery of the journal.""
A cold shiver passed through me.
"How would you know when I found it?""
"Sarah arranged for me to receive a sealed notification if the trust's records were ever challenged or if someone attempted to transfer the property without your consent. Last week, I received a notice concerning your father's estate.""
I looked at Denise.
She had gone perfectly still.
"What notice?""
"A document was filed claiming that you had voluntarily surrendered your interest in the family property.""
I stared at the papers in my hand.
"I never signed anything.""
"I know. That's why I began investigating.""
Denise suddenly let out a brittle laugh.
"She's lying to you, Emily. Margaret has been obsessed with your mother for years. She wants money.""
I covered the phone's microphone.
"You just told me not to show these papers to Dad. Now you're saying Margaret wants money?""
"Because she does!""
"Then why are you scared?""
Her lips parted, but no words came out.
I returned to the call.
"Margaret, one of the documents has Denise's name on it. It's dated four years before she supposedly met my father. What does that mean?""
"Read me the heading.""
I unfolded the paper.
At the top was the name of a company I didn't recognize: Bellweather Holdings, LLC.
Beneath it were the signatures of two authorized representatives.
One was Denise's.
The other belonged to a man named Thomas Hale.
Margaret made a small, strangled sound.
"Emily, don't read any more of that document aloud where she can hear you.""
I turned toward the kitchen.
Denise was no longer standing by the door.
She was beside the telephone on the wall, her hand hovering over the receiver.
"Who is Thomas Hale?"" I whispered.
Margaret answered carefully.
"He was the financial adviser who managed your mother's investments. He disappeared shortly after Sarah died.""
"Disappeared?""
"The police questioned him about missing funds. Before they could bring formal charges, he left Georgia. We never found him.""
I looked down at the document again.
There was a date beside his signature.
Four years before Denise married my father.
My stepmother had known a man connected to my mother's finances long before she entered our family.
And now she was desperate to get the journal back.
"Margaret," I said, "I need you to tell me the truth. Was Denise involved in my mother's death?""
"I don't have proof that she was.""
The answer was careful. Too careful.
"But I believe Sarah discovered that someone had been moving money out of the trust," Margaret continued.
"She suspected that person was working with someone close to her.""
"Someone like my father?""
"I won't accuse him without evidence.""
I closed my eyes.
I remembered my father standing beside my mother's hospital bed after the accident, his face pale, his hand wrapped around mine. He'd told me she loved me more than anything in the world.
For years, I'd held on to that memory as proof that he was still the man my mother had trusted.
What if he had been lying to me ever since?
"Emily," Margaret said, "I need you to do something. Look at the final page of the journal. There should be a number written in red ink.""
I flipped through the pages.
There it was.
A sequence of twelve digits followed by two initials: S.R.
"Found it.""
"Good. That is the reference number for a sealed trust file. I can access it through my firm's archived records, but only if you bring me the original journal and the documents.""
"Where are you?""
"Downtown Atlanta. My office is on Peachtree Street. Can you get here safely?""
"I think so.""
"Don't tell Denise where you're going.""
A floorboard creaked behind me.
I turned.
Denise was standing in the hallway, holding a small kitchen knife.
Not raised.
Not yet.
Her voice trembled.
"Hang up, Emily.""
I stared at the blade.
"Denise, put it down.""
"Hang up the phone!""
Margaret shouted through the speaker.
"Emily, get out of that house now!""
I ran.
I grabbed my bag, shoved the journal beneath my jacket, and sprinted through the front door. Behind me, Denise screamed my name.
I heard the door slam against the wall.
Then her voice followed me down the front steps.
"If you take those papers to Margaret, you'll destroy your father!""
I reached the sidewalk and turned.
Denise stood in the doorway, the knife hanging at her side.
For the first time, I noticed something strange about her expression.
She wasn't afraid of losing the house.
She was afraid of what I might discover about the man who owned it.
And as I ran toward the street, my phone vibrated with a new message from Margaret.
Emily, I've accessed the preliminary trust records.
There's something you need to know before you come here.
A second message appeared.
May you like
Your father wasn't the original beneficiary of your mother's estate.
He was never supposed to receive a single dollar.
