Chapter 12 - The Fire Did Not Destroy Everything
By the time firefighters controlled the blaze, Margaret’s study was gone.
The staircase was blackened.
The storage room where we had found the cuff link had partially collapsed.
Someone had broken into the house shortly before midnight.
Security footage had been disabled.
Detective Price looked furious.
“He’s destroying evidence.”
“Richard?”
“Probably.”
Probably was becoming unbearable.
“What survived?”
“The original red ledger is with police.”
“Margaret’s laptop?”
“With Rachel.”
“The hidden envelope?”
“With us.”
So the fire was terrifying.
But strategically, it had failed.
Then the fire marshal found something.
An incendiary device near the study.
Attached to it was a timer purchased through a company called Bellweather Maintenance.
Rachel recognized the name from the ledger.
Bellweather had received payments from Mercer.
Evelyn denied ordering anything.
For the first time, I believed her.
Not because she had become trustworthy.
Because she looked furious.
She arrived at our attorneys’ office carrying four bankers’ boxes.
“These are Mercer internal records.”
Rachel stared at them.
“You’re cooperating?”
“I’m protecting my firm.”
“Convenient.”
Evelyn looked at me.
“Richard used us.”
“Us?”
“Mercer.”
“You founded Mercer.”
“I founded the investment company. Richard created the acquisition structure for Whitmore.”
“So you’re innocent?”
“No.”
That answer surprised me.
“I pressured property owners. I used aggressive debt purchases. I helped publish the forged authorization when I strongly suspected you had not signed it.”
She held my gaze.
“I did those things.”
“Why admit them?”
“Because I am done letting Richard decide which version of me survives.”
The sentence sounded familiar.
Maybe we were more alike than either of us wanted.
We searched the boxes until after midnight.
At 12:47, Rachel found a payment schedule.
Richard Whitmore had been receiving money through offshore entities for almost nine years.
But one page contained something more valuable.
A bonus payment.
Twenty million dollars.
Condition:
SUCCESSFUL TRANSFER OF WHITMORE CONTROL BEFORE SEPTEMBER 30.
September 30 was three weeks away.
“What happens then?” I asked.
Evelyn answered.
“Mercer’s acquisition financing expires.”
“So this has a deadline.”
“Yes.”
“If they don’t control the tower by September 30?”
“The redevelopment collapses.”
For the first time, we understood Richard’s desperation.
He did not have infinite time.
He needed my shares.
Or my removal.
Detective Price called at 1:20 a.m.
“We found Richard.”
“Where?”
“Airport.”
“He tried to leave?”
“No.”
That answer immediately bothered me.
“What was he doing?”
“Meeting someone.”
“Who?”
Price paused.
“Your husband.”
I stood.
“Daniel?”
“They were photographed inside a private terminal.”
My anger returned instantly.
“He’s still working with Richard.”
“We don’t know.”
“Then find out.”
Daniel called ten minutes later.
I answered with one sentence.
“You have thirty seconds.”
“Richard contacted me.”
“Twenty-five.”
“He said he would give me evidence clearing me in Margaret’s death.”
“Twenty.”
“He wanted the flash drive back.”
“Fifteen.”
“I agreed to meet so police could track him.”
I stopped counting.
“Price knew?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because Richard said he was watching Price.”
I closed my eyes.
Daniel still believed he was the smartest man in every dangerous room.
“What happened?”
“He never came inside.”
“Price says you were photographed.”
“With an intermediary.”
“Who?”
Daniel was silent.
“Who?”
“Gerald Hale.”
The board member.
Daniel continued.
“Hale gave me an envelope.”
“What was in it?”
“A photograph of Margaret.”
My heart tightened.
“What kind of photograph?”
“Taken after I left her house.”
Silence swallowed me.
“Was she alive?”
“Yes.”
I closed my eyes.
Proof.
If the timestamp could be verified, Daniel had not caused the fatal injury.
“What else?”
“There’s someone standing behind her.”
“Richard?”
“No.”
“Who?”
Daniel’s breathing changed.
“Patricia.”
His mother.
My eyes opened.
“No.”
“I know.”
“Your mother was at Margaret’s house?”
“The timestamp is twenty-three minutes after I left.”
Everything fractured again.
Patricia had admitted forgery.
Admitted resentment.
But nothing about being at the house that night.
“What was she doing?”
“Margaret is sitting on the floor. My mother is holding her phone.”
“And Richard?”
“Not visible.”
“Send it to Price now.”
“I already did.”
“Daniel…”
“There’s more.”
Of course there was.
“On the back, someone wrote a location.”
“What location?”
“A bank.”
“Which bank?”
“Whitmore Private Trust.”
Rachel heard and looked up.
Evelyn went pale.
“What?” I asked her.
She whispered, “Margaret kept physical safe-deposit boxes there.”
Twenty minutes later, Mr. Meyers confirmed one remained unopened.
The next morning, with police present, we accessed it.
Inside was no money.
Only a video cassette.
Old.
Dated eighteen years earlier.
The week Thomas Carter died.
A handwritten label read:
THOMAS — IF ANYTHING HAPPENS TO ME.
We transferred the recording digitally.
Thomas Carter appeared on screen.
Younger than I remembered from photographs.
Nervous.
He spoke directly into the camera.
“My name is Thomas Carter. I am recording this because Richard Whitmore has been purchasing condemned properties through false companies and forcing owners to sell.”
Daniel watched beside me.
His face emptied.
Thomas continued.
“Margaret discovered what he was doing. She wants to report him.”
Daniel covered his mouth.
Then Thomas said:
“If something happens to me, Margaret Whitmore had nothing to do with it.”
Daniel began crying.
His father continued.
“The person I am afraid of is Richard.”
The recording ended.
For almost a minute, nobody spoke.
Then Detective Price’s phone rang.
He answered.
His expression changed.
“What?”
He listened.
Then looked at Daniel.
“What happened?” I asked.
Price lowered the phone.
“Patricia Carter has disappeared from custody transport.”
Daniel went pale.
“How?”
“Vehicle collision.”
“Was she taken?”
“We believe so.”
“By Richard?”
Price nodded slowly.
“Most likely.”
Then Rachel received an email.
One attachment.
A live photograph of Patricia bound to a chair.
Underneath was a message addressed to me.
BRING MARGARET’S SHARES TRANSFER DOCUMENTS.
May you like
COME ALONE.
OR DANIEL LOSES HIS MOTHER THE WAY HE LOST HIS FATHER.
