Chapter 11: The Attorney Who Disappeared
The photograph kept me awake until dawn.
At first, I studied my mother's face. She appeared composed, almost stern, with her hands folded in front of her. Dr. Bell sat across from her, leaning forward as though he were explaining something important.
Then I examined the third man.
Andrew Price wore a dark suit and a gold signet ring. His left hand rested beside a blue-sealed document.
I couldn't understand why Marcus had sent the photograph unless he believed it would frighten me.
Perhaps he was right.
But fear had stopped being a reason to obey him.
At eight the next morning, I met Detective Harris at the station and showed him the image.
He studied it carefully.
“Did Marcus tell you when this photograph was taken?””
“No. He only sent it with a message implying my mother had done something wrong.””
“Did you recognize the restaurant?””
I zoomed in on the background. A framed painting hung behind my mother, showing a red bridge over a river.
“I think it's somewhere near Buckhead. Mom used to meet clients there.””
Detective Harris made a note.
“We'll have the image examined. If it is authentic, the date and location may help establish what your mother was discussing with these men.””
“Have you spoken to Andrew Price?””
“Yes. He's agreed to cooperate, but his account has changed since our first conversation.””
My stomach tightened.
“How?””
“Initially, he said he had no personal knowledge of the medical affidavit. Yesterday, he admitted he had received a payment from Mitchell Strategic Holdings shortly before the document was prepared.””
I stared at him.
“So he was involved.””
“We have not determined the extent of his involvement. Receiving money is not proof that he knowingly participated in fraud.””
“Then why did he lie?””
“That's one of the questions we're asking.””
Detective Harris showed me a written statement Price had submitted.
According to the statement, Marcus had approached him with a proposal to establish a financial guardianship arrangement for me. Price claimed he believed the arrangement was legitimate because the supporting medical documentation appeared authentic.
But there was a troubling detail.
The statement said my mother had personally requested the arrangement before her death.
I shook my head.
“She would never have done that.””
“Do you have evidence contradicting the statement?””
“My mother's letter. The original estate documents. The recordings from the flash drive.””
“Those materials are being examined. We need to establish their authenticity and context.””
I understood. The truth might be obvious to me, but an investigation required evidence that could withstand scrutiny.
Before I left, Detective Harris asked me to describe my symptoms in detail.
I told him about the headaches, the dizziness, and the periods when I struggled to remember conversations. I explained that Marcus had supplied the pills and claimed they were prescribed by Dr. Bell.
“Have you taken any since the anniversary dinner?”” he asked.
“No.””
“Good. Please continue to avoid taking anything that hasn't been independently verified by your medical provider. We have also requested the relevant prescription records.””
I nodded.
Then I asked the question that had haunted me all night.
“Do you think Marcus intended to kill me?””
Detective Harris didn't answer immediately.
“I think the insurance application, the alleged medication misuse, and the property documents warrant serious investigation. But I won't speculate about intent until we have evidence that supports a conclusion.””
It wasn't the answer I wanted.
It was the answer I needed.
After leaving the station, I called Robert.
He had reviewed my mother's estate records and discovered that the first account she'd mentioned was a trust account established shortly before her death.
The account had held approximately $600,000.
“That money should have been transferred into the investment portfolio you inherited,” he explained.
“But the final statement shows a withdrawal of $450,000.””
“The transfer we found in the cabinet.””
“Yes. Except the recipient account was closed six weeks later.””
“Can the money be traced?””
“My financial investigator is working on it. The bank has preserved the transaction records.””
I pressed my hand against my forehead.
“Was Nathan involved?””
“We don't know. His identity appears to have been used to establish one of the accounts, but that does not prove he opened it or controlled it.””
I remembered my brother's face when he'd seen the transfer.
He had looked genuinely horrified.
But I had believed Marcus's reassuring smile for eight years. I would not let sympathy substitute for proof again.
That afternoon, Daniel called with an update.
“Vanessa has agreed to provide a formal statement,” he said.
“She's also given investigators access to some messages Marcus sent her.””
“Does she admit knowing about the insurance policy?””
“She says Marcus told her the policy was a business arrangement. She claims she didn't know you were the insured person until recently.””
“Do you believe her?””
“I believe the messages may answer that question better than either of us can.””
He sent the relevant screenshots through his attorney.
Most were ordinary exchanges about meetings and money. Then I found one dated three weeks before the anniversary dinner.
Marcus had written:
*Once the paperwork is finalized, Lauren won't be able to interfere. The doctor has already handled the difficult part.*
Vanessa replied:
*And what happens if she remembers?*
Marcus answered:
*She won't remember anything important.*
I read the exchange until the words seemed to blur.
Daniel called back a few minutes later.
“There's another message. Vanessa asked Marcus about the beneficiary change.””
I opened the screenshot.
Vanessa had written:
*Why was Nathan listed first? You said this was supposed to be ours.*
Marcus replied:
*Nathan was useful until he started asking questions. You are the only one who will follow through.*
My stomach turned.
Vanessa hadn't been an innocent bystander. Whatever she knew about the medication or the insurance policy, she had clearly been aware of the plan to take control of my property.
But the messages also revealed that Nathan had apparently become a problem for Marcus.
That meant my brother might have been telling the truth about refusing to cooperate.
It didn't absolve him of his earlier silence, but it changed the shape of the mystery.
At five, Robert called again.
His investigator had traced part of the missing money to an account associated with a private investment office.
The office had closed three years earlier.
Its former registered agent was Andrew Price.
I sat down slowly.
“Price received the money from my mother's account?””
“Not directly. The transfer passed through two companies before reaching an account connected to his office. We need the underlying bank records to determine who controlled it.””
“Did my mother know?””
“Possibly. There's something else. Her trust documents contain a handwritten amendment that was never filed with the court.””
“What amendment?””
Robert hesitated.
“It appears to change the person who would receive the remaining trust funds if you died before the estate was fully settled.””
My heart began pounding.
“Who does it name?””
“That's the strange part. The amendment names no individual. It directs the remaining funds to a charitable foundation established by your mother.””
“Why would she do that?””
“I can't say yet. But the amendment was signed shortly before her death, and it references a separate agreement with Dr. Bell.””
I remembered the photograph: my mother, the doctor, Andrew Price, and the blue-sealed document.
The three of them had met before she died.
Perhaps Marcus hadn't been the only person hiding something.
That evening, I returned to Robert's office to review the newly recovered records. He placed a photocopy of the amendment on the table.
My mother's signature appeared at the bottom.
Beneath it was the signature of a witness.
I recognized the handwriting immediately.
It belonged to Marcus.
But the date was impossible.
The amendment was dated two days after my mother had died.
I looked up at Robert.
“Someone forged this.””
He nodded.
“That's what it appears to show.””
“Then why would Marcus send me that photograph?””
Robert folded his hands.
“Perhaps he wants you to believe your mother was involved in the scheme. Perhaps he wants to draw attention away from the documents he forged himself.””
I stared at the photograph again.
The blue seal on the document between my mother and the two men had a distinctive emblem: a circle surrounding a small tree.
Robert leaned closer.
“That symbol looks familiar.””
He searched his files and pulled out a document from the insurance company.
The same emblem appeared in the corner.
It belonged to a private trust administrator that had handled several of the company's high-value policies.
And the administrator's name was listed beneath the seal.
*Northbridge Fiduciary Services.*
I had never heard of the company.
Robert looked at me.
“Lauren, I think we need to find out why your mother was meeting with the people connected to your insurance policy.””
Before I could answer, Detective Harris called.
“Mrs. Mitchell, Andrew Price has changed his statement again. He now claims your mother paid him to prepare the documents.””
I gripped the edge of the table.
“That's impossible.””
“There's more. He says he has a signed agreement proving it.””
“Where is it?””
“He claims it's in a safe deposit box. We're seeking the necessary legal authorization to examine it.””
My phone vibrated as he spoke.
A new message from Marcus appeared.
*ASK PRICE WHAT YOUR MOTHER PROMISED HIM. THEN ASK WHY HE NEVER TOLD YOU ABOUT THE CHILD.*
I read it twice.
The child?
May you like
My mother had never told me about another child.
And if Marcus was using that secret to frighten me, I needed to know why.
