Chapter 7
Detective Hale did not react immediately.
“When did Daniel tell you that?”
“After the funeral.”
“How long after?”
“Two days.”
“What exactly did he say?”
Ethan looked exhausted.
“He said Mom killed Dad.”
My chest tightened.
“Why didn’t you tell me this?”
Ethan looked at me.
“Because I thought he was insane.”
“Did you tell police?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“My mother told me Daniel was trying to take advantage of Dad’s death.”
Detective Hale leaned forward.
“Did Daniel provide evidence?”
“No.”
“He showed up at the house screaming.”
“About what?”
“That Dad had called him.”
“You knew they had spoken?”
“Not then.”
“What happened?”
“Mom threatened to call police.”
“And?”
“Daniel left.”
“Did you ever speak to him again?”
“Once.”
“When?”
“About six months later.”
“What did he say?”
“That I would regret choosing her.”
Hale nodded.
“And you didn’t speak for eight years?”
“Not until two days ago.”
I looked at Ethan.
“You were carrying this the entire time we were married.”
“Yes.”
“You never thought your wife should know your brother accused your mother of killing your father?”
“I thought it was a lie.”
“That isn’t the point.”
“I know.”
“No, Ethan. The point is you don’t tell me anything that makes your life look messy.”
His eyes filled.
I continued.
“You didn’t marry me as your partner.”
“That’s not true.”
“You married me as your audience.”
He flinched.
“You showed me the version you wanted admired.”
My voice broke.
“And I loved a man who did not exist.”
He looked devastated.
For once, I did not comfort him.
Detective Hale stepped into the hallway to make calls.
Laura sat beside me.
“You should rest.”
“I can’t.”
“Sophie needs you healthy.”
That worked.
Nothing else could have.
I went upstairs to the NICU.
Sophie was improving.
The nurse told me she had gained two ounces.
Two ounces.
It felt like winning the lottery.
I sat beside her for an hour.
I talked about nothing.
The weather.
My favorite songs.
The yellow curtains in her nursery.
I did not tell her that strangers were searching her father’s family history for possible crimes.
She did not need that story.
Neither did I.
But we had it anyway.
That evening, my mother arrived.
She had flown from Florida the moment Jessica told her Sophie had been born.
Mom walked into my room and burst into tears.
“My baby had a baby.”
I cried too.
She hugged me carefully.
Then she met Sophie.
For twenty minutes, everything felt almost normal.
Then Mom noticed Ethan was not there.
“Where is he?”
Jessica and I exchanged a look.
My mother’s face changed.
“What happened?”
I told her.
Not every financial detail.
But enough.
Rachel.
The affair.
The lies.
The house.
The forged signature.
Daniel.
Ethan’s mother.
Mom listened silently.
Then I mentioned Ethan’s father.
Her expression changed.
Barely.
But I saw it.
“What?”
She looked away.
“Nothing.”
My heart stopped.
“No.”
“Emily.”
“You know something.”
Jessica stared at Mom.
“What?”
Mom sat down.
“I don’t know if it matters.”
“Then tell me.”
She hesitated.
“I knew Ethan’s father.”
The room went silent.
“What?”
“Not well.”
“How?”
“He was one of your father’s clients.”
My father had been a contractor.
He died six years earlier.
I stared at Mom.
“When?”
“About eighteen years ago.”
“Before Ethan’s father died?”
“Yes.”
My skin prickled.
“What kind of work?”
“Your dad renovated an office building for him.”
“Which building?”
“I don’t remember.”
“Did Dad ever mention the Hartwells?”
“Once.”
“What did he say?”
Mom looked uncomfortable.
“That they were having family problems.”
“What problems?”
“I don’t know.”
“Mom.”
“I really don’t.”
“Why did your face change when I mentioned his father?”
She took a slow breath.
“Because your father came home upset one night.”
“When?”
“A few months before Mr. Hartwell died.”
“What happened?”
“He said a client offered him money to hide something in a wall.”
I stared at her.
“What?”
Jessica leaned forward.
“Hide what?”
“A metal box.”
My pulse jumped.
“Did Dad do it?”
“Yes.”
“Where?”
“I don’t know.”
“Did he open it?”
“No.”
“Who asked him?”
Mom swallowed.
“Ethan’s father.”
The room became completely silent.
My mind raced.
“What was in the box?”
“I told you, he didn’t open it.”
“Why would Dad agree?”
“He was paid.”
“How much?”
“Ten thousand dollars.”
“That was a lot of money back then.”
“I know.”
“Did he ever tell anyone?”
“No.”
“Did he tell you where?”
“No.”
I closed my eyes.
Then a memory hit me.
My father’s workshop.
A box of old invoices Mom gave me after he died.
I had kept them because I could not bring myself to throw away his handwriting.
“Mom.”
“What?”
“Dad kept job records.”
“I know.”
“Do you still have any?”
“You took most of them.”
I looked at Jessica.
“They’re in my attic.”
Her eyes widened.
“You stored Dad’s boxes at my place when you moved.”
I had forgotten.
Jessica stood.
“I’m going home.”
“No.”
She looked at me.
“I can check.”
“Call Detective Hale.”
She nodded.
Within an hour, Hale met Jessica at her house.
I stayed with Sophie.
My mother sat beside me.
“You should have told me.”
“I didn’t know it mattered.”
“Mom, Dad hid a metal box for a man who died months later under suspicious circumstances.”
“When you say it like that…”
“How else would I say it?”
She looked down.
“I spent years trying not to live inside your father’s work.”
I softened slightly.
My father had worked constantly.
He had died suddenly.
Mom spent years angry that work had taken so much of him before death took the rest.
“I know.”
“I’m sorry.”
Two hours later, Detective Hale called.
“We found the invoice.”
My heart jumped.
“Address?”
“Yes.”
“Where?”
“A commercial building in downtown Chicago.”
“What business?”
“Back then, Hartwell Financial Services.”
“Ethan’s father’s company?”
“Yes.”
“What is there now?”
“A law firm.”
“Can you search the wall?”
“We’re working on a warrant and consent.”
“How do you know which wall?”
“Your father wrote a note.”
My breath caught.
“What note?”
“Behind executive conference room. East wall. Forty-two inches from floor.”
Tears filled my eyes.
That was Dad.
Precise.
Always measuring twice.
“What happens now?”
“We locate the box if it’s still there.”
It was.
The law firm allowed investigators inside after the current owner reviewed the situation.
The wall had been renovated twice, but the metal box remained behind an old structural column.
Detective Hale came to the hospital the following morning.
He looked tired.
But excited.
“You found it.”
“Yes.”
“What was inside?”
“Documents.”
My pulse increased.
“What kind?”
“Bank records.”
Laura arrived just as he began explaining.
Hale placed copies on the table.
The original documents were already being processed.
“These show transfers from Hartwell family accounts into several holding companies.”
I scanned the page.
One name jumped out.
Hart Financial Management.
“Daniel?”
“Maybe.”
“How old?”
“Some are nineteen years old.”
“What else?”
“Insurance policies.”
“On who?”
“Ethan’s father.”
“How much?”
Hale hesitated.
“Five million dollars.”
My mouth went dry.
“Beneficiary?”
“His wife.”
Ethan’s mother.
“What does that prove?”
“By itself, nothing.”
“What else was in the box?”
“A handwritten letter.”
“From Ethan’s father?”
“Yes.”
“To who?”
Hale looked at me.
“To Ethan.”
My chest tightened.
“Has he read it?”
“Not yet.”
“Why?”
“We wanted to confirm authenticity first.”
“What does it say?”
Hale shook his head.
“I cannot give you the entire document yet.”
“But?”
“There is one line that matters immediately.”
I waited.
Hale read from his notes.
“If anything happens to me, Daniel is telling the truth.”
I closed my eyes.
Ethan had chosen his mother.
His father had known.
Daniel had been telling the truth for sixteen years.
At least about something.
“What was Daniel telling the truth about?”
“We still need to establish that.”
My phone rang.
Ethan.
I answered.
“Hello?”
His voice was shaking.
“Emily, I’m at the police station.”
“Why?”
“Daniel turned himself in.”
My heart jumped.
“For what?”
“He says Mom is missing.”
“What?”
“He woke up and she was gone.”
“Did he hurt her?”
“No.”
“He says he didn’t.”
“Where was she staying?”
“At the Wisconsin property.”
“Who owns that place?”
“We still don’t know.”
Ethan breathed hard.
“Emily, there’s something else.”
“What?”
“Mom left Daniel a note.”
“What did it say?”
May you like
A pause.
Then Ethan whispered, “She said she was going to finish what Dad started.”
