Chapter 11: The Blackmail Letter
Dad read the sentence twice.
Then looked at Daniel.
"Someone was blackmailing Vanessa over money you stole?""
Daniel nodded.
"That's what she told me.""
Mia stared at him.
"Why would Mom care whether Dad knew you acted alone?""
Daniel's silence answered before his mouth did.
Dad stood.
"Daniel.""
"I don't know everything.""
"What do you know?""
Daniel rubbed his forehead.
"Laura suspected someone else had access to the account.""
My pulse jumped.
"Who?""
"She never named anyone.""
Dad's voice sharpened.
"But you have a theory.""
Daniel looked at him.
"I did.""
"Vanessa?""
"No.""
Dad frowned.
"You didn't even know Vanessa then.""
"Exactly.""
That stopped us.
Eleven years ago, Dad hadn't met Vanessa.
Mia whispered, "Then how could Mom be involved?""
Daniel shook his head.
"I don't think she was.""
Dad pointed at the blackmail note.
"Then why send this to her?""
"Because whoever sent it believed Vanessa would pay to keep old secrets buried.""
"Why?""
Daniel looked toward me.
"Maybe because she had something of her own to hide.""
The room went quiet.
I remembered the debt.
The forged signature.
The attempted withdrawal.
Vanessa was desperate for money.
But perhaps not only because of a failed investment.
"When did she get this?"" I asked.
"Six months ago.""
"Before she contacted you?""
"Two days before.""
Mia sat down.
"Mom told me six months ago we had to start cutting expenses.""
Dad looked at her.
"She never told me that.""
"She said your company was struggling.""
"My company wasn't struggling.""
Mia laughed bitterly.
"Another lie.""
Daniel pushed the letters toward Dad.
"Vanessa came to me terrified. She thought whoever sent this knew about her financial problems.""
"Did she pay?""
"I told her not to.""
"That's not what I asked.""
Daniel hesitated.
"I think so.""
"How much?""
"Ten thousand.""
Dad stared at him.
"From where?""
"I don't know.""
Mia whispered, "The savings.""
Dad closed his eyes.
Twenty thousand supposedly invested.
Ten thousand potentially paid to a blackmailer.
Nothing matched anymore.
I looked at Daniel.
"Did you ever meet the person?""
"No.""
"Did Vanessa?""
"She claimed she didn't.""
"How did she pay?""
"Cash.""
Of course.
Dad gathered the papers.
"We're giving this to Karen.""
Daniel nodded.
"And the police if she recommends it.""
Another nod.
Then Daniel looked at me.
"Ava.""
I stopped.
"I'm sorry.""
I wanted to hate him.
Maybe part of me did.
But Mom's letter was still in my hand.
Judge people by what they do after the truth finds them.
"You had eleven years," I said.
His eyes dropped.
"I know.""
"Returning some money doesn't erase what you did.""
"I know.""
"But telling us now matters.""
He looked up.
"Not enough.""
"No.""
I folded Mom's letter carefully.
"Not enough.""
We left.
Outside, Mia walked beside me.
"Your mom sounds incredible.""
"She was.""
"I wish I'd known her.""
The words surprised me.
"So do I.""
Back home, Karen arrived again.
Dad spread everything across the dining table.
For nearly an hour, she reviewed the documents.
Finally she removed her glasses.
"This has become much larger than a disputed trust withdrawal.""
Dad leaned forward.
"What do we do?""
"We preserve everything and stop confronting people ourselves.""
She looked directly at him.
"Especially Vanessa.""
Dad nodded reluctantly.
Karen examined the blackmail notes.
"Do you still have the envelopes they arrived in?""
"Daniel has his. Vanessa may have hers.""
Mia suddenly sat upright.
"Wait.""
We looked at her.
"Mom kept weird things.""
"What kind of things?"" I asked.
"Receipts. Envelopes. Cards. Everything.""
She stood.
"She has a box in the garage.""
Dad frowned.
"I've never seen it.""
"Because it's behind my old dance trophies.""
We went to the garage.
Mia dragged down a blue plastic container.
Inside were years of birthday cards, receipts, warranties, photographs.
Then she found a cream envelope.
"No return address.""
Dad pulled on gloves Karen had brought.
Inside was the blackmail letter.
And something else.
A receipt.
Vanessa must have shoved it into the envelope accidentally.
Karen examined it.
"Storage facility.""
The receipt was dated four months earlier.
Mia frowned.
"Mom has a storage unit?""
Dad shook his head.
"Not that I know of.""
The receipt listed a unit number.
214.
Karen photographed it.
"We don't go there.""
Dad looked disappointed.
"We let this be handled properly.""
That evening, Mia and I sat on the back steps.
Neither of us mentioned dresses.
Or graduation.
For the first time, we just talked.
Then Mia's phone buzzed.
She looked at the screen.
Her face changed.
"What?""
She turned the phone toward me.
A message from Vanessa.
I NEED YOU. PLEASE COME ALONE.
Below it was an address.
Mia whispered, "That's the storage facility.""
Before I could respond, another message appeared.
AND DON'T TELL RICHARD OR AVA.
Then a photograph loaded.
It showed unit 214.
The door was open.
Inside were dozens of boxes.
And sitting on top of one was a framed photograph.
May you like
My mother.
Standing beside Vanessa.
