Chapter 5 - The Bride Who Vanished
By noon, Brooke’s disappearance had become the family emergency she had probably always assumed would force everyone back into orbit around her.
Mom called seventeen times.
I answered none.
Aunt Diane called once.
I answered immediately.
“Your mother is at Brooke’s house,” she said.
“Is Brooke there?”
“No.”
“Car?”
“Gone.”
“Phone?”
“Off.”
“Ethan?”
“At the hotel with his parents.”
I looked at Marcus.
We were still in his office.
The emergency freeze petition had already been electronically filed.
“Police?” I asked.
“Your mother doesn’t want them involved.”
Of course she didn’t.
“Tell her Ethan can decide whether to report Brooke missing.”
Aunt Diane was silent.
“Claire?”
“Yeah?”
“I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
“For not knowing.”
That almost broke me.
Not Mom.
Not Brooke.
Aunt Diane apologizing for failing to detect a theft she had nothing to do with.
“You didn’t do this.”
“I should’ve noticed the money.”
“We all believed the story we were given.”
After hanging up, I turned to Marcus.
“What happens if Brooke has the purchase agreement?”
“Very little by itself.”
“So why take it?”
“Possibly to destroy evidence.”
Rachel looked up from her laptop.
“Or to renegotiate.”
Marcus frowned.
“With whom?”
Rachel rotated the screen.
“I just found a corporate registration.”
Three months earlier, a Delaware LLC named BRC Holdings had been created.
Sole member?
Brooke Cole.
“What is it for?” I asked.
Rachel typed.
“Real estate investment.”
Daniel gave a humorless laugh.
“Of course.”
Further searches revealed another surprise.
BRC Holdings was listed as a consultant in a draft development agreement connected to the Mason land.
Consulting fee?
Nine hundred thousand dollars.
My stomach turned.
“So she gets almost a million if my trust sells below market.”
“That appears possible,” Marcus said.
“Does Ethan know?”
“I doubt it.”
I called him.
He answered before the first ring finished.
“Did you find her?”
“No.”
“I found something.”
I told him about BRC Holdings.
He was silent so long I thought the connection had dropped.
Then he said, “Nine hundred thousand?”
“Yes.”
“She told me she was closing her event company after the wedding.”
“Apparently she had a second career planned.”
He swore.
Then stopped himself.
“Sorry.”
“I’ve heard worse today.”
He exhaled.
“My dad is checking his company records.”
“Did he know about Brooke’s fee?”
“No. The acquisition team handled preliminary documents. He says he never saw that consulting agreement.”
“Do you believe him?”
“I don’t know who I believe anymore.”
That answer made me trust him more than a confident denial would have.
At 2:30 p.m., Mom finally sent a text I could not ignore.
BROOKE LEFT A NOTE.
I called.
Mom answered crying.
“She’s gone.”
“What did the note say?”
“She said nobody would forgive her.”
“Send me a picture.”
“Claire.”
“Send it.”
Thirty seconds later, the image arrived.
Brooke’s handwriting sprawled across hotel stationery.
Mom,
I messed everything up.
Claire always wins.
Ethan hates me.
Grandma hates me.
There’s no reason to stay.
Please tell everyone I’m sorry.
My blood ran cold.
Daniel read over my shoulder.
“Call the police.”
I did not hesitate.
Whatever Brooke had done, I did not want her dead.
The sheriff’s department issued a regional alert for her vehicle.
For the next two hours, fraud stopped mattering.
Money stopped mattering.
I sat in Marcus’s conference room staring at my phone, remembering Brooke at seven years old following me around the backyard.
Brooke at twelve borrowing my sweater without asking.
Brooke at sixteen calling me because she got drunk at a party and was afraid Mom would find out.
We had not always hated each other.
Maybe that was the cruelest part.
There had been years when I genuinely believed she loved me.
At 5:08 p.m., a deputy found her SUV abandoned at a rest stop off Interstate 71.
Her purse was inside.
Her phone was inside.
Brooke was gone.
Mom screamed when she heard.
Search teams arrived.
Dogs.
Drones.
State police.
Ethan drove there.
So did I.
Daniel tried to talk me out of going.
I shook my head.
“She’s my sister.”
Nothing else needed to be said.
The rest stop was crowded with emergency vehicles when we arrived.
Mom rushed toward me.
“This is because of that lawyer!”
I stopped.
“What?”
“If Grandma hadn’t threatened everyone—”
Daniel stepped between us.
“Linda, stop.”
Mom pointed at me.
“She was scared!”
“Of being caught,” Grandma said behind us.
We turned.
She had arrived with Tyler.
Mom’s face crumpled.
“She’s my daughter.”
Grandma’s expression softened.
“So is Claire.”
Mom looked away.
Searchers moved into the woods.
Hours passed.
At 8:40 p.m., they found Brooke.
Not in the woods.
At a motel eleven miles away.
Alive.
Perfectly healthy.
Registered under her maiden name.
The “suicide note” had been staged.
When a deputy escorted her into the rest stop office, Mom ran forward.
Brooke collapsed into her arms sobbing.
Ethan did not move.
Neither did I.
The deputy looked furious.
“You had hundreds of people searching for you.”
Brooke cried harder.
“I panicked.”
Then I noticed something.
A brown leather document case under her arm.
Ethan noticed too.
“That’s my father’s.”
Brooke tightened her grip.
The deputy frowned.
“What is it?”
“Property documents,” Ethan said.
Brooke glared at him.
“You called the police on me?”
“You left a goodbye note.”
“I needed space!”
“You abandoned your car and phone!”
“Because everyone was tracking me!”
The deputy held out his hand.
“Ma’am, I need the case.”
Brooke stepped back.
“You can’t take it.”
“If it belongs to someone else, I can secure it.”
“It doesn’t belong to Ethan.”
“It belongs to my father,” Ethan said.
Brooke looked toward Mom.
“Tell them.”
Mom froze.
That was strange.
Brooke repeated it.
“Mom. Tell them.”
“Tell us what?” I asked.
Mom began to shake.
Brooke’s eyes locked on mine.
Then she smiled.
Not happily.
Desperately.
“You think this land is yours?”
I said nothing.
She lifted the case.
“Dad never intended for you to keep it.”
“My father?”
“Yes.”
“You never met my father.”
“No.”
She looked at Mom.
“But she knew him better than you ever did.”
Grandma stepped forward.
“Brooke, be very careful.”
Brooke laughed.
“You’re all going to feel so stupid.”
She opened the case.
Inside was a stack of documents.
She pulled out an old envelope.
My father’s handwriting was on the front.
LINDA.
Mom covered her mouth.
Brooke held it toward me.
“This is the letter your precious father wrote Mom three days before he died.”
I stared at it.
May you like
Brooke whispered:
“And if you read it, you’ll understand why she took the money.”
