Chapter 11 - The Offer
Patricia called me the next day.
Different number.
Calm voice.
As if she were checking whether I wanted lunch.
"I assume you found Thomas's little collection."
"Where are you?"
"Somewhere peaceful."
"Enjoy it while you can."
She laughed.
"You've become dramatic."
"I learned from your family."
She ignored that.
"I want to make you an offer."
"You tried to murder my daughter."
"Brandon endangered Emily."
"You financed the entire plan."
"That's a theory."
"I have your ledgers."
"Ledgers can be misunderstood."
"Thomas's brake line?"
Silence.
"Malcolm acted independently."
"Then testify against him."
Another pause.
"No."
"Because he didn't act independently."
Patricia changed direction.
"I can make Emily's problems disappear."
I almost couldn't believe her.
"Her problems?"
"Court. Media. Custody investigations. Legal expenses."
"You caused them."
"And I can end them."
"What do you want?"
"The ledgers."
"Police have them."
"Copies exist."
Of course she assumed I had more.
Thomas would have.
I didn't know where.
"Anything else?"
"Rachel Dunn's testimony withdrawn."
"Not mine to give."
"Allison too."
"Still not mine."
"Then persuade them."
"Why would I?"
Patricia's voice became colder.
"Because if you don't, the public will hear things about your daughter that she would rather remain private."
My stomach tightened.
"What things?"
"Therapy. Arguments with Brandon. Financial mistakes. Every exhausted text she sent after childbirth."
"Nobody will care once they know you drugged her."
"People believe what feels familiar, Margaret."
She was right about one ugly truth.
A complicated lie could survive long after evidence appeared.
"But that's not your real leverage."
"What makes you say that?"
"You're scared."
Patricia laughed softly.
"Of you?"
"Of Thomas."
The laughter stopped.
"He left something you haven't found."
I was guessing.
But the silence told me I was right.
"What is it?"
No answer.
"You burned my house because you didn't find it."
"You've always been smarter than you pretend."
"Thomas recorded you."
Again, a guess.
Again, silence.
My pulse quickened.
Patricia whispered, "Be careful."
Then disconnected.
I immediately called Daniel.
"If Thomas recorded Patricia, where would he keep it?"
"Not the office."
"Bank?"
"We searched everything."
"Cloud storage?"
"Maybe."
Emily had been listening from the doorway.
"What about Dad's boat?"
I turned.
"What?"
"The old fishing boat."
Thomas had sold it three years before his death.
"Why?"
Emily frowned.
"When I was little, Dad used to hide birthday gifts in the storage compartment because Mom hated going on the boat."
Despite everything, I almost laughed.
She was right.
I hated that boat.
Daniel found the buyer.
The boat had changed hands twice.
Now it sat at a marina sixty miles away.
Inside the rear storage compartment, beneath a replacement panel no current owner knew existed, we found a waterproof box.
Thomas again.
Always thinking.
Inside were two hard drives.
One contained financial backups.
The second contained audio.
Thirty-two recordings.
Thomas and Patricia.
Thomas and Victor.
Thomas and Malcolm.
The most important was dated six days before his death.
Patricia's voice:
"You should stop protecting Emily from information she will inherit anyway."
Thomas:
"I'm protecting her from your son."
Patricia:
"Brandon can be managed."
Thomas:
"That's the problem. You think people are property."
Then Thomas confronted her about Red Fern.
The forged trust request.
Allison.
Michael.
Malcolm's payment.
Patricia remained calm.
Until Thomas said one sentence.
"I gave everything to federal investigators."
That had been a bluff.
But Patricia didn't know.
Her voice changed.
"You'll regret that."
Thomas replied, "Is that a threat?"
"No. Advice."
Then another man's voice entered.
Victor.
"Thomas, perhaps we can discuss a settlement."
Thomas laughed.
"Five million?"
Patricia said, "Name your price."
"There isn't one."
Then came the line that made Emily cry.
Thomas said:
"My daughter is not for sale."
The recording ended.
The next file was from the day before his death.
Thomas sounded afraid.
He left himself a voice memo.
"Malcolm followed me again. If tomorrow's meeting goes badly, Margaret needs the complete file. Daniel has part. Rachel has part. The final proof is with someone Patricia will never suspect."
Someone.
Not somewhere.
We stared at each other.
"Who?"
Daniel shook his head.
The following recordings offered no answer.
Then Harris received an update.
Patricia had crossed state lines.
A traffic camera caught a vehicle matching one associated with her near the airport.
But there was no record of her flying.
"She may be trying to leave by private aircraft," Harris said.
Time was running out.
Victor finally asked for a deal.
He would testify.
He would turn over financial records.
He would identify the people Patricia bribed.
In return, prosecutors would consider cooperation.
Harris asked why he changed his mind.
Victor gave a simple answer.
"Patricia left me behind."
Loyalty among people like them lasted exactly as long as convenience.
Victor confirmed Malcolm tampered with Thomas's car.
Patricia paid him.
Victor helped conceal the transaction.
But Victor claimed something more shocking.
"Malcolm wasn't supposed to kill Thomas that night."
"What was he supposed to do?"
"Force him off the road. Frighten him."
"And instead?"
Victor looked away.
"He cut the brake line."
"On whose order?"
Victor swallowed.
"Brandon's."
I stopped breathing.
Emily stared through the observation glass.
Brandon had claimed Patricia ordered the final act.
Victor said Brandon did.
One of them was lying.
Perhaps both.
Then Victor said, "There's a recording."
"Where?"
"I don't know."
"Who has it?"
Victor looked at Harris.
"The one person Patricia never suspected Thomas trusted."
"Who?"
Victor hesitated.
"Frank Cole."
Patricia's husband.
Brandon's father.
A man who had supposedly died six years earlier.
Harris frowned.
"Frank Cole is deceased."
Victor shook his head.
"No."
The room became silent.
"Patricia told everyone he died."
"Where is he?"
May you like
Victor looked directly at the mirror behind which Emily and I stood.
"Alive."
