Chapter 8 - The House Dad Never Sold
I didn't go alone.
I went with Daniel, Natalie, Mr. Bennett, and two officers who had agreed to stay nearby after we explained the threat.
The blue house was exactly where I remembered it.
White trim.
Long porch.
Two dead maple trees.
The front door was unlocked.
Inside, the house smelled like dust and old wood.
My mother stood in the kitchen.
She looked exhausted.
There was blood on her sleeve.
Natalie gasped.
“What happened?”
Mom looked at me.
“I'm sorry.”
I hadn't expected that.
She took a step forward.
“I should have told you years ago.”
“What did you do?”
“I lied about the house.”
We already knew that.
She looked toward the hallway.
“Your father bought it for me.”
“Why?”
“To leave.”
I stared.
“What?”
“He found out someone was taking money from the company.”
“Gerald?”
“I don't know.”
“Then why hide this?”
“Because Arthur believed our lives were in danger.”
She sat down.
“After he died, I couldn't let you know how afraid I was.”
“You could have trusted us.”
“I didn't know who to trust.”
Daniel asked, “Then why use Claire's money?”
Mom looked ashamed.
“Because the investigation cost money.”
“That doesn't justify stealing.”
“I know.”
She reached into her purse.
“Here.”
A flash drive.
I didn't touch it.
“What is it?”
“Everything I found.”
“About Gerald?”
“About the money.”
Daniel took the drive.
Mom stopped him.
“There is a password.”
“What is it?”
She looked at me.
“Your birthday.”
I almost laughed.
“You spent years hiding this and used my birthday as the password?”
“It was the only thing I could remember that he couldn't.”
Daniel connected the drive to his laptop.
Hundreds of files.
Bank records.
Emails.
Property documents.
Photographs.
And one folder.
LAST NIGHT.
We opened it.
There was a scanned handwritten note.
Dad's handwriting.
Margaret,
Do not tell Claire about the account.
Do not move the house.
Do not contact Gerald again.
If anything happens to me, take the girls and leave.
I read it twice.
Then a second document appeared.
An email.
From Dad.
Sent at 11:48 p.m.
To Mr. Bennett.
I was wrong about Gerald.
He isn't working alone.
My mother whispered, “That's the message I told you about.”
“Who was he working with?”
“I never found out.”
I opened the next file.
A bank transaction.
$24,500.
Recipient:
M. WILLIAMS FAMILY TRUST.
Sender:
G. PIKE HOLDINGS.
I looked at Mom.
She began to cry.
“You took Gerald's money?”
“No.”
“Then how did it get there?”
“I don't know.”
Daniel looked at the metadata.
“Wait.”
“What?”
“This transfer was made after your father died.”
“How long after?”
“Four days.”
Mom whispered, “That's impossible.”
“Why?”
“Gerald was already claiming he was nowhere near Ohio.”
We looked at each other.
Then the police officer entered.
“We need to talk.”
He had something in his hand.
A wallet.
“Found this behind the house.”
He opened it.
Inside was an old driver's license.
Name:
Thomas Vale.
I felt my blood turn cold.
“Thomas is dead.”
The officer nodded.
“According to the records.”
“Then why is his wallet here?”
He didn't answer.
The officer pulled out another item.
A hotel key card.
Dated two days earlier.
I looked at Daniel.
“Someone is using Thomas's identity.”
My mother covered her face.
Then the front window shattered.
Glass exploded across the kitchen.
Natalie screamed.
Daniel pulled me down.
The officers drew their weapons.
A car accelerated away outside.
Someone shouted for everyone to stay down.
My heart hammered as I crawled toward Natalie.
“Are you hurt?”
“No.”
Mom was bleeding from her forehead.
The officer checked her.
“Just glass.”
Daniel looked at the shattered window.
Something lay on the kitchen floor.
A small black object.
He picked it up.
A recorder.
Old-fashioned.
Digital.
We played it.
Static.
Then my father's voice.
Weak.
Breathing hard.
“If you're hearing this, they found us.”
Mom began shaking.
Dad continued.
“Margaret, do not trust Gerald.”
Static.
Then another voice.
A man's voice.
Close.
Calm.
“Arthur, you're making this harder than it has to be.”
The recording cut off.
Natalie whispered, “Who was that?”
Nobody knew.
Then the police found something else.
Footprints outside.
Two sets.
One leading toward the back road.
One leading directly to the front porch.
The second trail had fresh mud.
The officer looked toward us.
“Whoever was here stayed long enough to listen.”
I stared at the recorder.
Someone had found Dad's hidden recording.
May you like
Someone had come looking for the same answers we were.
And they knew exactly where we were.
