Chapter 7
The bank account became the least important thing in my life.
Eight million dollars.
Six million dollars.
None of it mattered when someone had paperwork discussing what happened if I died.
Police placed me under protection.
I hated it.
An unmarked car sat outside Helen’s house.
An officer drove me anywhere I needed to go.
For the first time in weeks, I was technically safer than I had ever been.
I had never felt more trapped.
Detective Lewis explained the burned document.
“It appears to be part of a draft assignment.”
“What’s that?”
Helen answered.
“A legal document transferring financial rights.”
“To who?”
“We don’t know. Most of the page was destroyed.”
“Could Denise inherit my trust if I died?”
“No.”
That surprised me.
“Then who does?”
Helen looked uncomfortable.
“According to your grandfather’s final amendment, if you die before age twenty-five without children, the remaining trust assets go to a charitable foundation.”
“So Denise gets nothing.”
“Correct.”
“Then why prepare a death transfer?”
“That’s what we’re trying to understand.”
Priya from the bank called that afternoon.
The attempted six-million-dollar transfer had a destination account.
Not directly to Hayes Family Development.
It would have passed through three entities first.
One was registered in Delaware.
One in Nevada.
One in the Cayman Islands.
The final beneficiary name was hidden.
But there was a contact email.
Tyler’s.
Police obtained another warrant.
By evening, they knew Hayes Family Development was almost bankrupt.
They owed contractors.
Banks.
Private lenders.
More than nine million dollars total.
A foreclosure hearing was scheduled in two weeks.
Denise hadn’t tried to steal my money because she wanted another vacation.
She was drowning.
And she had decided I was her life raft.
I sat in Helen’s kitchen staring at Grandpa’s letter.
Money makes people reveal themselves.
He had been right.
But he had also lied.
That was the part I couldn’t forgive.
The doorbell rang.
An officer checked first.
Then came into the kitchen.
“Michael Hayes is outside.”
I stood so fast the chair scraped the floor.
Helen looked at me.
“You don’t have to see him.”
“I know.”
“Do you want me here?”
“No.”
She left the room.
Michael entered slowly.
He looked exactly like he had through the glass at the police station.
Except smaller somehow.
Not physically.
Just less important than the monster I had imagined for nine years.
He held a paper bag.
“What’s that?”
“Food.”
“I’m not hungry.”
“Okay.”
He put it down.
Neither of us sat.
“You look like your mom,” he said.
“Don’t.”
He nodded.
“Okay.”
“Why are you here?”
“To apologize.”
“That’s useless.”
“I know.”
“Everyone keeps apologizing.”
“I’m not asking you to forgive me.”
“Good.”
He looked at the floor.
I hated how sad he looked.
I wanted him arrogant.
I wanted him cruel.
It would have been easier.
“Why didn’t you fight for me?”
He closed his eyes.
“I tried at first.”
“Letters aren’t fighting.”
“No.”
“You could have come to the house.”
“Your grandfather got a restraining order after I showed up drunk.”
That stopped me.
“When?”
“Three months after Laura died.”
“You came?”
“Yes.”
“I don’t remember.”
“You were asleep.”
“What happened?”
“I shouted. Walter called the police. I got arrested for violating the property line after they told me to leave.”
I laughed bitterly.
“So Grandpa was right about you.”
“That night? Yes.”
“Then what?”
“I went back to treatment.”
“And forgot me.”
“No.”
“Same result.”
He accepted that.
“Yes.”
I looked out the window.
“Did Grandpa keep you away, or did you stay away?”
“Both.”
Finally.
An answer that sounded true.
Michael reached into his jacket.
The officer at the door moved immediately.
Michael froze.
“It’s just an envelope.”
He placed it on the table.
My name was on it.
“I wrote that on your tenth birthday.”
“Grandpa already kept your letters.”
“This one never went through him.”
I opened it.
Inside was a birthday card.
And a receipt.
A savings account deposit.
Five hundred dollars.
Another paper showed yearly deposits after that.
“What is this?”
“The only thing I knew how to do without Walter blocking it.”
I stared at him.
“You opened an account for me?”
“Yes.”
“How much?”
“About twelve thousand now.”
Compared with eight million, it was nothing.
Compared with twenty-three dollars in my pocket three weeks ago, it was everything.
“You had money to put away for me but not enough courage to call?”
His face broke.
“Yes.”
I wanted to hate him.
I still did.
But hate had become complicated.
The doorbell rang again.
This time Detective Lewis entered.
“We found Tyler.”
My stomach dropped.
“Where?”
“Indiana.”
“Is he alive?”
“Yes.”
“Did he confess?”
“No.”
Michael stepped closer.
Lewis looked at him.
“Actually, he’s blaming Denise.”
Of course he was.
“Tyler says the fire was her idea.”
Helen returned to the kitchen.
Lewis continued.
“He admits he entered Walter’s house looking for a file. He claims Denise told him the file contained documents Walter intended to use to destroy their business.”
“And the fire?”
“He says it started accidentally.”
I laughed.
“He called me while the house was burning.”
“We know.”
“So he accidentally started a fire, then called to brag?”
Lewis almost smiled.
“That’s one of several problems with his story.”
“What about the paper in his SUV?”
“He says Denise gave it to him.”
“And the transfer?”
“He claims Denise designed the entire plan.”
“Do you believe him?”
“I believe he’s trying to save himself.”
That sounded right.
Then Lewis said, “He also made an accusation.”
Nobody spoke.
“Against Michael.”
I looked at my father.
His face hardened.
“What accusation?”
Lewis watched him.
“Tyler says Michael contacted Denise three months ago asking about Evan’s trust.”
The room went dead.
I turned slowly.
“Did you?”
Michael didn’t answer.
That was enough.
“Did you?”
“Yes.”
The word destroyed whatever tiny bridge had started forming.
I stepped back.
“You came here acting sorry.”
“I am sorry.”
“You asked Denise about my money?”
“I didn’t know the amount.”
“That matters?”
“No.”
“Why?”
He rubbed his face.
“I had debt.”
I laughed.
Of course.
Everybody had debt.
Everybody needed me.
“I didn’t ask to take your money.”
“What did you ask?”
“I asked whether Walter had left anything that could help pay for college.”
“My college?”
He hesitated.
I felt sick.
“Whose college?”
“My daughter’s.”
I stared at him.
“You have another kid.”
He closed his eyes.
“Yes.”
The room started spinning.
“How old?”
“Eleven.”
Eleven.
He had another daughter.
For eleven years.
While I waited for birthday calls that never came.
“What’s her name?”
“Emma.”
“Does she know about me?”
“Yes.”
“Does she know you abandoned me?”
Michael flinched.
“I told her I have a son I failed.”
“How noble.”
“Evan—”
“You saved five hundred dollars a year for me while raising another kid?”
“I deserve that.”
“You deserve worse.”
Helen stepped closer.
I raised my hand.
“No.”
I looked at Michael.
“Get out.”
He nodded.
Then Lewis said, “There’s more.”
I nearly screamed.
Of course there was more.
There was always more.
“What?”
“Tyler claims Michael offered Denise information about the trust in exchange for fifty thousand dollars.”
Michael exploded.
“That’s a lie.”
Lewis watched him.
“Did you ask Denise for money?”
“No.”
“Did she offer?”
“Yes.”
I stared at him.
He swallowed.
“She said she could help Emma’s tuition if I signed something.”
“What?”
“A statement saying Walter had manipulated Laura and kept me from Evan.”
“Did you sign it?”
“No.”
Lewis asked, “Why didn’t you tell us this?”
“Because it made me look exactly like I look right now.”
Guilty.
Greedy.
Pathetic.
Michael looked at me.
“I asked Denise about the trust because I wanted to know whether Walter had provided for your education. She twisted it. When she offered money, I walked away.”
“Can you prove that?”
He pulled out his phone.
“I saved her messages.”
Lewis took it.
There they were.
Denise: You want to make things right with your new daughter? Help me fix what Dad did.
Michael: I won’t lie about Laura.
Denise: It isn’t a lie.
Michael: Leave Evan out of this.
Denise: Evan is the reason there is money to fix anything.
My blood went cold.
The date was three months ago.
Before Grandpa died.
Denise already knew.
She had been planning this before the funeral.
Then another message appeared.
Denise: When Dad is gone, the boy won’t know what hit him.
Michael had replied:
What does that mean?
She never answered.
Detective Lewis stared at the screen.
“This changes things.”
“For Denise?”
“Yes.”
“For Grandpa’s death too.”
I looked at him.
“What?”
“Walter died suddenly.”
“A stroke.”
“That’s what the death certificate says.”
“You think Denise—”
“I’m not saying anything yet.”
Michael went pale.
Lewis continued.
“But given what we now know, the medical examiner has agreed to review Walter’s records.”
My phone buzzed.
Unknown number.
I almost ignored it.
Then I saw the photo attachment.
Grandpa.
In a hospital bed.
Eyes closed.
A woman’s hand beside his IV.
May you like
The message underneath said:
ASK WHO WAS WITH HIM WHEN HE DIED.
