Chapter 7
My father was already awake.
He was sitting at the kitchen table, staring at a cup of coffee he hadn't touched.
He looked up when I entered, and I saw he knew.
"She was here, wasn't she?"
I nodded.
"She told me about the fire. About 1998. About Uncle Joe."
He closed his eyes, and his shoulders slumped.
For a moment, he looked impossibly old.
"I always knew that secret would catch up to me someday."
My breath caught.
"Dad... what is she talking about?"
He was silent for a long time.
Then he reached into his wallet and pulled out an old, faded photograph.
Two young men, arms around each other, grinning at the camera.
My father.
And Uncle Joe.
"We started the company together," he said softly. "Best friends since we were kids. We did everything together. Married sisters, even. Your mom and Joe's wife, Mary. We thought we'd grow old together. Retire together. Watch our kids take over the business."
He paused, swallowing hard.
"But Joe... Joe had a problem. He started gambling. At first, it was just poker games with the guys. Then it was the track. Then it was... everything. He started borrowing money from the company. Small amounts at first. Then bigger ones. By 1998, he'd embezzled over three hundred thousand dollars. The company was on the brink of collapse."
I sat down across from him, listening carefully.
"I confronted him about it. We fought. Said some terrible things to each other. He told me he was going to burn down the old warehouse for the insurance money. Said it was the only way to save the company. I told him he was crazy. That I'd go to the police if he tried anything."
He looked at his hands.
"Three days later, the warehouse burned down. Joe was inside. He'd gone in late to... I don't know. Maybe to set the fire. Maybe to get something. The official report said electrical failure. But I always wondered."
"Vanessa says you started it," I said.
He looked at me, and there was agony in his eyes.
"I didn't, Emma. I swear to God, I didn't. But I didn't tell anyone about Joe's plan either. I didn't tell the police about the gambling or the embezzlement or the things he'd said. I let them believe it was an accident. Because he was my best friend. And because if the truth came out, the company would have been destroyed anyway. The insurance company would have refused to pay. We would have lost everything. Your mom, you kids... I couldn't do that to you."
The weight of his secret hung in the air between us.
He hadn't started the fire.
But he had covered up the truth.
He had let his best friend be remembered as a victim of a tragic accident rather than a desperate man who made a terrible choice.
And Vanessa had somehow found out.
"Does anyone else know?" I asked.
"Mary suspected," he said. "Joe's wife. She knew about the gambling. She asked me once, point-blank, if he'd set the fire. I lied to her. Told her the police had ruled it an accident. She never spoke to me again after that."
I thought about what Vanessa had said.
About documents and letters and witness statements.
"She's bluffing," I said finally. "If she had real evidence, she would have used it already. She wouldn't be trying to blackmail us. She'd go straight to the police or the newspapers."
My father looked uncertain.
"How can you be sure?"
"Because that's how people like her operate," I told him. "They find a crack in your armor, and they exploit it. She found out about Joe and the gambling and the questions around the fire. She twisted it into something worse. And now she's hoping you'll be so afraid of the truth coming out that you'll do whatever she says."
I reached across the table and took his hand.
"You made a mistake, Dad. A big one. But you were trying to protect your family. And you didn't kill Joe. That matters."
He squeezed my hand, tears in his eyes.
"What do we do?"
"We fight," I said. "We don't let her scare us. We don't let her win. If she wants to bring up the past, we'll meet her head-on. We'll tell the truth. All of it. The good, the bad, and the ugly. And then we'll let the world decide who the real villain is here."
My phone rang.
It was Mark.
"Emma," he said, his voice frantic. "Vanessa just got home. She's packing. She says she's leaving. She says you've ruined everything. Emma, what did you say to her?"
"She tried to blackmail us, Mark. Using Uncle Joe's death. Using Dad's secret."
There was a long silence.
"She told me about that," he said quietly. "Said Dad was a murderer. Said if we didn't do what she wanted, she'd make sure everyone knew."
"And you believed her?"
"I... I didn't know what to believe."
I sighed, the anger in me softening just a little.
Mark was weak.
But he wasn't evil.
Not really.
"Mark, I need you to listen to me very carefully. Vanessa is going down. There's no way around that. But you still have a choice. You can stay with her and go down too. Or you can do the right thing. You can cooperate. You can testify against her. And you can help us get Dad's money back."
He was crying now.
"I don't want to go to prison, Emma."
"Then help me," I said. "Be the brother I used to know. Be the son Dad deserves. It's not too late."
There was a long pause.
Then Mark spoke, his voice barely a whisper.
"Okay," he said. "I'll do it. But Emma... she has copies of everything. In a safety deposit box. At the downtown branch of First National. She said if anything happened to her, the box would be opened and all the documents would be sent to every news outlet in the state."
I sat up straight.
"Do you know the box number?"
"743," he said. "And Emma... the key. She keeps it on a chain around her neck."
I stood, already moving.
"Thank you, Mark. Stay where you are. Don't warn her. I'll handle this."
I hung up and looked at my father.
"She has evidence," I said. "Or what she thinks is evidence. In a safety deposit box. I need to get to it before she does."
"How?"
May you like
I grabbed my jacket and my badge.
"I'm a federal agent," I said. "I have ways."
