PART 6: THE MONEY MY FATHER HID
I looked from Daniel to my mother.
“Protect it from whom?”
Neither of them answered.
“Mom?”
She kept her eyes on the table.
“Please tell me you didn’t know about this.”
Her lips trembled.
“I knew your father had given Daniel money.”
My heart sank.
“Why?”
“He was afraid someone would take it.”
“Who?”
She finally looked at me.
“Your husband.”
I stared at her.
“That doesn’t make sense. Dad trusted Dereck.”
“He did at first.”
“Then what changed?”
Mom folded her hands together.
“A few months before your father died, Dereck asked him for a loan.”
I felt a familiar knot tighten in my stomach.
“How much?”
“Fifty thousand dollars.”
“And Dad said no?”
“He asked Dereck what it was for. Dereck told him he had an investment opportunity.”
I thought about the money missing from my account.
“The same investment?”
“I don’t know,” Mom said. “But your father wanted to see the paperwork before he gave him anything.”
“What happened?”
“Dereck never showed it to him.”
Daniel opened his folder and took out another document.
“Your father asked me to look into the investment.”
I turned toward him.
“Why you?”
“I worked in finance for years. He knew I could help him check whether the business was legitimate.”
“Was it?”
“I couldn’t find enough information to say. The company had only recently been registered, and the person Dereck named wouldn’t answer my questions.”
“What did Dad do?”
“He refused to give Dereck the money.”
Mom reached for a tissue.
“Afterward, your father started looking at his own accounts more carefully. He noticed someone had attempted to access one of them.”
“Was it Dereck?”
“We don’t know,” she said. “But the attempt happened shortly after Dereck visited him.”
I shook my head.
“If Dad was worried about him, why didn’t he warn me?”
“He was going to,” Mom said. “Then he became very sick.”
The room fell silent.
I remembered the last weeks of Dad’s life.
The hospital visits.
The conversations we kept postponing because he was tired.
The way he had squeezed my hand and told me to look after what he was leaving me.
Had he been trying to warn me?
“Why give the money to Daniel?” I asked.
Daniel slid the transfer record toward me.
“Your father wanted it kept separate until he could speak with you. He was worried about leaving everything in accounts Dereck might be able to access.”
“Did you give it back?”
“Not yet.”
My eyes snapped to his.
“You still have it?”
“Yes.”
“Where?”
“In an account under my name.”
I stared at him.
“For how long?”
“Since your father transferred it.”
“You’ve had two hundred thousand dollars of his money all this time?”
“I know how that sounds.”
“Then you know why I’m asking.”
Daniel nodded.
“I should have found a way to tell you sooner.”
“Why didn’t you?”
He looked at Mom.
“She asked me to wait.”
My head turned toward her.
“Again?”
“I was afraid Dereck would find out,” she said. “I thought Daniel could hold it until we knew what was happening.”
“You could have told me.”
“I should have.”
“You keep saying that.”
Tears spilled down her cheeks.
“I know.”
I looked back at the bank transfer.
“Is the money still there?”
“Yes,” Daniel said. “I brought a current statement.”
He passed me another page.
I read the account balance, then the date at the top.
The statement had been printed that morning.
“I want the police to verify this,” I said.
“Of course.”
I handed the documents to the officer at the door.
For the first time, I felt a small measure of control return.
Not because I trusted Daniel.
Not because I understood everything.
But because I no longer had to take anyone’s word for it.
My phone vibrated.
Another message from Dereck.
Please call me. I can explain what Daniel isn’t telling you.
I showed it to the officer.
He stepped outside to update Officer Daniels.
Mom watched me.
“Are you going to answer him?”
“I don’t know.”
A second message arrived.
He’s not protecting your father’s money. He’s waiting until he can take the house too.
Daniel saw my expression.
“What did he say?”
I read the message aloud.
Daniel leaned back.
“Your husband has been trying to make us distrust one another from the beginning.”
“Then tell me something I can check,” I said. “Who bought Northbridge Holdings from you?”
“I sold it through an intermediary called Linden Business Services.”
“Do you have the paperwork?”
“Yes.”
“Does it name the buyer?”
“Not directly. I was told the buyer was another company.”
“Which company?”
“Westhaven Partners.”
The name meant nothing to me.
But Mom’s face changed.
I saw it immediately.
“You recognize it.”
She shook her head too quickly.
“Mom.”
“I’ve heard the name.”
“Where?”
She looked down.
“From your father.”
Daniel leaned forward.
“What did he say about it?”
“He received a letter from Westhaven a few weeks before he went into the hospital.”
“What kind of letter?”
“I didn’t read it.”
“Where is it?”
“I don’t know.”
“Did Dad tell you what it was about?”
“He said someone was asking about the house.”
A chill ran through me.
“Who?”
“He wouldn’t say.”
My phone began to ring.
Dereck again.
The officer returned and nodded toward it.
“You can answer if you want to. Put it on speaker.”
I accepted the call.
“Where are you?” I asked.
“Somewhere safe.”
“Safe from whom?”
“Daniel.”
Daniel’s jaw tightened.
“You’ve said that already,” I replied. “Give me a reason to believe you.”
“Ask him about Westhaven.”
My grip tightened around the phone.
“What about it?”
“I found the company records. Daniel sold Northbridge to Westhaven, but he knows who owns it.”
Daniel shook his head.
“That’s not true.”
Dereck heard him.
“He’s with you?”
“Yes.”
“Then ask him why his name is on the original Westhaven documents.”
Daniel reached for the folder.
“I’ve never owned Westhaven.”
“Check the records,” Dereck said. “Don’t take my word for it.”
Officer Daniels stepped into the room.
I hadn’t noticed the door open.
“We’re checking both companies,” he said.
There was a pause on the phone.
Then Dereck spoke again.
“Listen to me. The loan against the house wasn’t the only document.”
“What other document?”
“A sale agreement.”
“We found that.”
“No. I’m talking about an older one.”
Daniel frowned.
“What older one?”
“The agreement your father signed before he died.”
I looked at Mom.
She had gone completely still.
“What agreement?” I asked.
Dereck lowered his voice.
“He agreed to sell the house to Westhaven.”
“No,” I said. “Dad would never have done that.”
“I found the papers.”
“Where?”
“In his desk.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because I thought someone had forged them.”
“Did someone?”
“I don’t know.”
Officer Daniels stepped closer.
“Dereck, where are those papers now?”
Another pause.
Then Dereck said, “I have them.”
“Bring them to the station.”
“I can’t.”
“Why not?”
“Because someone followed me from the airport.”
I looked at Daniel.
He looked just as confused as I felt.
“Who followed you?” I asked.
“I didn’t get a good look.”
“Where are you?”
“I told you, I’m safe.”
A noise came through the phone.
A door opening.
Dereck stopped speaking.
“Who’s there?” he called.
I heard a muffled voice.
Then a crash.
“Dereck?”
The line went dead.
I stared at my phone.
“Call him back,” Mom said.
I did.
It rang once.
Then went to voicemail.
Officer Daniels was already speaking to another officer.
I called again.
Nothing.
Part of me was still furious with Dereck.
He had admitted stealing my money and forging my signature.
But I had just heard something happen to him.
I couldn’t pretend I hadn’t.
“He mentioned a diner,” I said. “He wanted me to meet him there.”
Officer Daniels asked me for the address.
I showed him the message.
He sent officers to check it.
Then he turned to Daniel.
“I need to ask you some more questions about Northbridge and Westhaven.”
Daniel nodded.
“I’ll answer whatever I can.”
Mom and I were taken to another room.
For several minutes, neither of us spoke.
Then I asked, “Did Dad sign an agreement to sell the house?”
She stared at the wall.
“I don’t know.”
“Did you ever see papers from Westhaven?”
“Yes.”
“You said you didn’t read the letter.”
“I didn’t. But I saw the name again later.”
“When?”
“After your father died.”
“Where?”
“In the study.”
“What did you see?”
“A folder with Westhaven written on it. Dereck was holding it.”
My stomach tightened.
“What did he say it was?”
“He told me he was organizing your father’s paperwork.”
“And you believed him?”
“Yes.”
“Did you see the folder again?”
“No.”
I rubbed my forehead.
Everything seemed to lead back to the study.
The ownership papers.
The letter.
The birth certificate.
The sale agreement.
“Did Dad keep copies of his documents anywhere else?”
Mom looked at me.
“Sometimes.”
“Where?”
“He had a safe at the bank.”
My heart skipped.
“Did you ever open it?”
“No. Your father said it was for you.”
“For me?”
“He planned to give you the key when you turned thirty.”
“I turned thirty last year.”
“I know.”
“Where’s the key?”
Mom opened her handbag.
For a moment, I thought she was about to produce another secret she had been carrying for years.
But she shook her head.
“I don’t have it.”
“Who does?”
“I thought you did.”
“No.”
“Your father kept it on a small silver chain. He wore it beneath his shirt.”
I remembered the chain.
I had seen it around his neck countless times.
After he died, the hospital had returned his belongings in a clear plastic bag.
His watch.
His wedding ring.
His wallet.
And the silver chain.
“I put it in my jewelry box,” I said.
Mom looked relieved.
“Then it’s at your house.”
My stomach dropped.
Dereck had been in our bedroom that morning.
The same bedroom where Mom found the forged papers.
I took out my phone.
There was an old photograph I had taken of Dad’s things after the funeral.
I found it and zoomed in.
The chain was there.
But I couldn’t see a key.
“Maybe it was underneath,” Mom said.
“Maybe.”
But another memory surfaced.
Two months after Dad died, Dereck had offered to have the chain cleaned for me.
He had returned it in a small blue box.
I had thanked him and put it away.
I had never checked whether anything was missing.
The door opened.
Officer Daniels stepped inside.
“They found Dereck’s car,” he said.
I stood.
“I thought you found it at the airport.”
“We did. This was a different car, registered to a rental company.”
“Was he there?”
“No.”
My chest tightened.
“What did you find?”
“The car was parked behind the diner. The door was open.”
Mom gripped my arm.
“Was there blood?” I asked.
“No. But there were signs of a struggle nearby.”
I thought of the crash I had heard through the phone.
“Did they find the papers?”
“No.”
“His phone?”
“No.”
Officer Daniels paused.
“But they found something on the passenger seat.”
He held up a clear evidence bag.
Inside was a small silver key on a broken chain.
My breath caught.
“That was Dad’s.”
“We believe it may belong to a safe deposit box,” he said.
Mom and I looked at each other.
“Can we open it?” I asked.
“We’ll speak with the bank and establish who has access.”
I pointed to the chain.
“Dereck took that from my jewelry box.”
“Is there anything distinctive about it?”
“There’s a tiny scratch near the clasp. Dad caught it on a gate when I was a kid.”
Officer Daniels examined it through the bag.
“There is a scratch.”
My eyes filled with tears.
Dad had worn that chain for years.
And Dereck had taken it from me.
The officer’s phone rang.
He listened, then looked up.
“Daniel Mercer has asked to speak with you again.”
“Why?”
“He says he remembered something about your father’s letter.”
I followed him back to the interview room.
Daniel was standing by the table.
When he saw me, he held out a photograph.
It was the envelope in Dad’s handwriting.
“I noticed something after you left,” he said.
I took the photograph.
“What?”
“The corner.”
A small corner of the envelope had been folded back.
Written beneath it were two words.
I brought the photograph closer.
Bank box.
Daniel pointed to the edge.
“Your father used to mark important papers that way. It meant there was something connected to them in the safe deposit box.”
“Did Dereck know that?”
“I don’t know.”
I looked at the key in Officer Daniels’ hand.
Dereck had taken it.
He had driven away from the airport with it.
And now he was missing.
My phone vibrated again.
An unknown number.
A photograph appeared on the screen.
It showed Dereck sitting in a chair.
His hands were behind his back.
A strip of cloth covered his mouth.
My heart slammed against my ribs.
Beneath the photograph was a message.
Bring the key to the bank tomorrow at nine. Come alone.
A second message arrived.
If the police come with you, your husband disappears.
I showed Officer Daniels.
He took my phone and read both messages.
“Do you know that number?” he asked.
“No.”
“Don’t reply.”
Mom stood in the doorway, staring at the photograph.
“Oh, my God.”
Another message appeared before the officer could put the phone down.
This one was shorter.
And don’t trust your mother. She knows what’s inside the box.
I looked at her.
She didn’t look surprised.
She looked terrified.
“Mom,” I said slowly, “what’s in the box?”
Her eyes moved to the photograph of Dereck.
Then to the key.
And finally, she whispered:
“Your father’s original will.”
I frowned.
“We already saw Dad’s will.”
“I know.”
“Then why would someone want the original?”
Mom’s voice broke.
“Because the one we read after he died wasn’t the one he signed.”
PART 7: THE WILL THEY DIDN’T WANT ME TO SEE
I stared at my mother.
“The will we read wasn’t real?”
She wiped her cheeks.
“I don’t know whether it was forged. I only know it was different from the one your father showed me.”
“What was different?”
“He showed me a draft a few weeks before he died. It said the house and his savings would go to you.”
“That’s what the will we read said.”
“There was another provision.”
My stomach tightened.
“What provision?”
“He wanted you to receive a letter explaining where you came from.”
I looked at Daniel.
He was standing beside the table, watching my mother carefully.
“Did Dad write that letter?” I asked.
“Yes,” Mom said. “He told me he had.”
“Was it the letter Dereck photographed?”
“I don’t know. That envelope was addressed to Daniel Junior. Your father said he had written a separate one for you.”
“And that wasn’t mentioned in the will we read?”
“No.”
“Why didn’t you say something?”
Mom’s shoulders sank.
“Because I didn’t want you to find it.”
The honesty hurt more than another excuse would have.
“You knew Dad wanted me to know the truth.”
“Yes.”
“And you let me believe he had never tried to tell me.”
“I was afraid you’d think we had lied because we didn’t love you enough.”
“I never questioned whether you loved me.”
“I know that now.”
I turned toward Officer Daniels.
“Can the bank tell us what’s in the box?”
“We’ll contact them,” he said. “First, I need to know everyone who knew about it.”
Mom thought for a moment.
“Your father, his lawyer, and me.”
“Dereck knew,” I said. “He had the key.”
Daniel raised his hand slightly.
“Your father mentioned the box to me once. He didn’t tell me what was inside.”
Officer Daniels wrote down their names.
I looked again at the photograph on my phone.
Dereck sat in a chair, his wrists hidden behind him.
His face was bruised near his left eye.
Despite everything he had done, I felt sick imagining him alone with whoever had sent the message.
“Can you find out where this was taken?” I asked.
“We’re working on it,” Officer Daniels said. “Have you seen that room before?”
I enlarged the image.
Behind Dereck was a pale wall and a narrow window.
A red fire extinguisher hung near the door.
Nothing looked familiar.
Then I noticed a small blue sticker on the window.
It showed a white anchor.
“I’ve seen that,” I whispered.
“Where?”
I thought back.
My father used to take me to a marina on Saturday mornings.
There had been a repair shop near the water.
Its windows carried the same sticker.
“Harbor Point Marina.”
Officer Daniels made a call immediately.
While he spoke, another message appeared on my phone.
Nine o’clock. The key. No police.
I wanted to reply.
I wanted to ask who had Dereck and what they wanted from Dad’s will.
Instead, I handed the phone back to Officer Daniels.
“Do you think they’ll hurt him?”
“We’re doing everything we can to find him.”
Daniel stepped closer.
“I know someone who worked at the marina. I can ask whether the repair shop is still open.”
Officer Daniels shook his head.
“Let us handle that. We don’t want the person who sent this message to know we’re looking there.”
Daniel nodded.
Mom sat down heavily.
“I should have told you about the will.”
I looked at her.
“Yes.”
“I thought if the house and money were still going to you, the rest didn’t matter.”
“The rest was my life, Mom.”
Her eyes filled again.
“I know.”
The door opened.
A woman in a dark suit entered and introduced herself as Detective Hall.
She asked me to walk her through everything that had happened since we arrived at the airport.
By the time I finished, my throat hurt.
She listened without interrupting.
Then she placed a printed photograph on the table.
It showed a man standing outside the diner.
He wore a cap pulled low over his face.
“Do you recognize him?” she asked.
I leaned closer.
“No.”
Daniel picked up the photograph.
His expression changed.
“What?” I asked.
“I think I know the jacket.”
He pointed to a small embroidered logo on the sleeve.
A white anchor.
“The marina repair shop used to give those to its employees.”
“Do you know who owns it now?” Detective Hall asked.
“It was owned by a man named Martin Richards.”
I looked up sharply.
“Richards?”
Detective Hall turned to me.
“The notary on the power of attorney was M. Richards.”
She took the photograph back.
“We’re checking that name.”
My phone vibrated again.
Another message.
This one contained no words.
Just a photograph of an envelope.
Even before I enlarged it, I recognized Dad’s handwriting.
For my daughter.
My breath caught.
There was a date beneath my name.
It had been written two weeks before Dad died.
“Whoever has Dereck has the letter,” I said.
Mom leaned over my shoulder.
“That’s it.”
“You’ve seen it?”
“Only once. Your father sealed it and asked me to give it to you if anything happened to him.”
I slowly turned toward her.
“You told me you didn’t know where it was.”
“I didn’t know what happened to it after the funeral.”
“What happened before the funeral?”
She swallowed.
“I put it in the desk.”
“In the same drawer as Daniel Junior’s letter?”
“Yes.”
“And then?”
“A few days after the funeral, I went back for it.”
“Was it there?”
“No.”
My chest tightened.
“Who had been in the house?”
“Dereck helped sort through the papers. So did your father’s lawyer.”
“What was the lawyer’s name?”
“Edward Collins.”
Detective Hall wrote it down.
“Is Mr. Collins still practicing?”
“He retired after your father died,” Mom said. “I haven’t spoken to him in years.”
Daniel looked up.
“I have.”
Mom turned toward him.
“When?”
“About six months ago. He called and asked whether I had received my son’s letter.”
“What did you tell him?”
“That I hadn’t.”
“Did he say why he was asking?”
“He said someone had contacted him about the will.”
“Who?”
“He wouldn’t tell me.”
Detective Hall stepped into the hallway to make another call.
I stared at the photograph of my father’s letter.
For years, I had imagined one more conversation with him.
One more chance to hear his voice.
One more chance to ask him everything I hadn’t thought to ask.
And he had left me words.
Words someone had hidden from me.
My phone rang.
The unknown number.
Detective Hall hurried back into the room.
“Answer it,” she said. “Put it on speaker.”
I accepted the call.
“Hello?”
A man’s voice answered.
“Do you have the key?”
“Who is this?”
“Do you have it?”
“I need to know Dereck is alive.”
A pause.
Then I heard movement.
A muffled sound.
And Dereck’s voice.
“Babe?”
My eyes filled with tears before I could stop them.
“Dereck, are you okay?”
“I’m okay.”
He sounded frightened.
I had never heard him sound like that.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m so sorry.”
A sharp noise interrupted him.
Then the other man returned.
“Nine o’clock.”
“What do you want from the bank box?” I asked.
“What your father left inside.”
“Is it the will?”
“That’s none of your concern.”
“It’s my father’s will.”
“Then you should want to see it.”
“Where’s the letter?”
“I have it.”
“Let me hear Dereck again.”
The man ignored me.
“Bring the key, and you’ll get your husband back.”
The call ended.
Detective Hall took my phone.
“We’ll try to trace it.”
“Whoever it is knows about the will,” I said.
“And the letter,” Daniel added.
Mom was staring at the floor.
I looked at her.
“Did Dad ever tell you what the final will said?”
“No.”
“Did he tell Edward Collins?”
“I assume so. Edward prepared it.”
My phone vibrated.
The man had sent another message.
Ask your mother why she visited Edward Collins the day before your father died.
I read it aloud.
Mom’s face drained of color.
“You visited his lawyer?” I asked.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“I wanted to ask about the house.”
“What about it?”
“Your father had told me he was changing something in the will. I wanted to know whether I would still be able to live there.”
“You never lived there after he died.”
“I know. But at the time, I didn’t know what I would do.”
“Did Edward show you the will?”
“No.”
“Did you sign anything?”
She hesitated.
My heart sank.
“Mom.”
“He asked me to sign a paper acknowledging that I had spoken with him.”
“Where is it?”
“I don’t know.”
Detective Hall came back into the room.
“Mr. Collins has agreed to meet us.”
“Where?” I asked.
“At his home. He says he has documents related to your father’s estate.”
“Can I come?”
“He asked specifically to speak with you.”
Mom stood.
“I’m coming too.”
Detective Hall looked at her.
“Mr. Collins asked to speak with your daughter alone first.”
Mom opened her mouth, then closed it.
I picked up my bag.
“I’ll go.”
Before I left, I turned to her.
“Did Dad ever tell you he wanted to sell the house?”
“No.”
“Are you sure?”
“He loved that house. He told me he wanted it to stay with you.”
It was the first answer she had given me that sounded certain.
I wanted to hold on to it.
Detective Hall drove me to a quiet street lined with old trees.
Edward Collins lived in a small brick house with a blue front door.
He opened it before we reached the steps.
He was older than I remembered.
His hair was thin, and he leaned on a walking stick.
But his eyes were sharp.
“You look just like your father,” he said.
Then he seemed to reconsider.
“The father who raised you.”
My throat tightened.
“You knew?”
“Yes.”
“Did everyone know except me?”
“No,” he said. “Your father kept it private because he wanted to tell you himself.”
“Then why didn’t he?”
“He ran out of time.”
Edward led us into his study.
A thick folder sat on the desk.
“I kept copies,” he said.
“Of the will?”
“Of several documents.”
He opened the folder and removed a page.
“This is the will I prepared for your father.”
I looked at the date.
It was three days before he died.
“Is it the original?”
“No. Your father took the original with him. He said he wanted to keep it somewhere safe until I could collect it.”
“The bank box?”
“That’s what he told me.”
“Did you prepare the will that was read after he died?”
Edward’s expression hardened.
“No.”
I stared at him.
“Then who did?”
“I don’t know.”
“The lawyer at the reading said he worked with you.”
“He did, briefly.”
“What was his name?”
“Martin Richards.”
The name made my skin go cold.
The notary.
The man connected to the marina.
Detective Hall stepped closer.
“Did you authorize Mr. Richards to handle the estate?”
“No. He had access to some files before I discovered he had been taking documents from the office.”
“When did you discover that?”
“Shortly after your father died.”
“Did you report him?”
“Yes. But by then, he had left.”
Edward removed another sheet from the folder.
“This is a copy of your father’s final will.”
My hands trembled as I took it.
I read the first page.
Then the second.
The house was left to me.
His remaining savings were to be divided according to instructions in an attached document.
And then I saw the clause my mother had mentioned.
Dad had asked that I receive a sealed letter explaining my family history.
But there was something else.
A second name.
Daniel Mercer Junior.
I looked up.
“Why is my biological father named in the will? He died before Dad.”
Edward took a slow breath.
“He did.”
“Then why leave something to him?”
“Read the next paragraph.”
I looked down.
The words blurred for a moment.
Then I read them again.
If Daniel Junior had died before Dad, the item intended for him was to be given to his daughter.
Me.
“What item?” I asked.
Edward opened a drawer and took out an old photograph.
A young man stood beside Dad outside the house.
Dad had his arm around his shoulders.
The young man held a little girl.
Me.
“That was taken the last time Daniel Junior visited,” Edward said.
I touched the edge of the photograph.
“What did Dad want me to receive?”
“A recording.”
“What kind of recording?”
“Your biological father made it for you.”
My eyes filled.
“When?”
“Shortly before he died.”
“Where is it?”
Edward looked at the will.
“Your father told me it was in the bank box.”
The same box someone was threatening Dereck’s life to open.
Detective Hall’s phone rang.
She stepped away to answer it.
I held the photograph carefully.
“Did you ever hear the recording?” I asked.
“No.”
“Do you know what he said?”
“Only what your father told me.”
“What was that?”
Edward looked at me for a long moment.
“He said Daniel wanted you to know he never stopped loving you.”
I pressed my hand against my mouth.
For most of my life, I had believed I knew exactly where I came from.
Now I had a photograph of a man I barely remembered.
A man who had brought me a stuffed rabbit.
A man whose voice might still be waiting for me in a bank box.
Detective Hall returned.
Her expression was tense.
“They found the repair shop at Harbor Point,” she said.
I stood.
“Did they find Dereck?”
“No.”
The hope drained from me.
“But they found signs someone had been there recently.”
“What signs?”
“A chair, some rope, and a phone.”
“Dereck’s phone?”
“We don’t know yet.”
“Was there anyone inside?”
“No.”
My phone vibrated.
I looked down.
Another photograph.
This time, it showed the bank entrance.
Taken from across the street.
A message appeared beneath it.
I know the police are looking for him.
Then another.
Nine o’clock. You have one chance.
Detective Hall took a screenshot.
“We’ll work out a plan.”
“I’m going,” I said.
“I understand why you want to, but we need to keep you safe.”
“My father’s will is in that box. The recording is in there too. And whoever sent this has Dereck.”
“We’ll contact the bank and make sure they know what’s happening.”
I looked at the photograph of the bank again.
Something in the window caught my eye.
A reflection.
It showed part of a dark car parked behind the person taking the picture.
On its rear window was a sticker.
A white anchor.
“The same sticker,” I whispered.
Detective Hall leaned over.
“You’re right.”
She sent the photograph to her team.
Then Edward cleared his throat.
“There’s one more thing.”
I turned toward him.
“Your father came to see me the day before he died.”
Mom had said she visited Edward that day too.
“Did my mother see him there?”
“No. She came earlier.”
“What did Dad want?”
“He was worried that someone had found out about the bank box.”
“Who?”
“He didn’t know.”
“Then what did he do?”
“He asked me to make another copy of the will.”
“Is that the one you gave me?”
“Yes.”
“And the original?”
“He said he would put it in the box.”
I looked down at the key.
“Did he?”
Edward hesitated.
“I never saw him place it inside.”
A cold feeling moved through me.
“Then the original might not be there.”
“It might,” he said. “But your father also gave me something else.”
He opened the bottom drawer of his desk.
From beneath a stack of files, he took out a small sealed envelope.
My name was written across the front.
I recognized Dad’s handwriting immediately.
My hands began to shake.
“I thought the other letter was for me.”
“It is,” Edward said. “Your father wrote this one the following day. He asked me to keep it until you needed it.”
“Why didn’t you give it to me after he died?”
“He left instructions that I should give it to you only if someone challenged the will or tried to take the house.”
Edward placed the envelope in my hand.
It was light.
My father’s handwriting tilted slightly across the paper, just as it always had.
I slid my finger beneath the flap and opened it.
Inside was a single folded page.
I unfolded it carefully.
My darling girl,
If you are reading this, someone has found out what I tried to keep safe.
I swallowed and kept reading.
Please listen to Edward. Trust what he can prove, and do not hand over the key until you know what is happening.
Beneath that, Dad had written one final sentence.
The person who came to see me that morning was not a stranger.
I looked up.
“Who came to see him?”
Edward’s face had gone pale.
“I don’t know.”
I looked back at the page.
There was one more line at the bottom.
I had missed it because the ink was faint.
She told me you would never forgive me if I told you the truth.
I stared at the word.
She.
My phone rang.
It was Mom.
I answered.
“Mom?”
Her voice was shaking.
“Honey, I need you to come back.”
“What happened?”
“Daniel is gone.”
I looked at Detective Hall.
“What do you mean, gone?”
“He left the station while I was in the other room.”
“Did he say where he was going?”
“No. But he left something for you.”
“What?”
Mom took a breath.
“Another photograph.”
“Of what?”
Her voice dropped.
“Your father standing outside the bank.”
“When was it taken?”
“The day before he died.”
I looked down at the letter in my hand.
“Was anyone with him?”
Mom was silent.
Then she said:
“Yes.”
“Who?”
“Dereck.”
