Jonathan Hale agreed to meet us at a coffee shop downtown.
He chose the location.
That told me something.
He didn't want us near his office.
He arrived ten minutes late.
He was in his sixties, tall, silver-haired, and dressed in a dark suit without a tie.
He looked like the kind of man who had spent his life being trusted.
He shook Mr. Bennett's hand.
Then mine.
When he looked at me, his expression changed.
“You look like Elaine.”
I sat down.
“You knew her.”
“Yes.”
“How well?”
“Professionally.”
“That isn't what I asked.”
He looked away.
“I knew her socially.”
“Did you know she was afraid of Vivian?”
He stiffened.
“I wasn't involved in family matters.”
“Were you involved in her financial affairs?”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“I managed some of William's investments.”
“Did you manage Elaine's?”
“No.”
“Then why did Dad write your name on her medical chart?”
Jonathan stared at me.
“Your father was suspicious of everyone.”
“Was he suspicious of you?”
“Sometimes.”
“Why?”
“Because he was under pressure.”
Mr. Bennett placed a copy of the payment record on the table.
“This payment was made to an account controlled by you.”
Jonathan looked at it.
“When?”
“The day before Elaine died.”
His face tightened.
“That was a business transaction.”
“What business?”
“I don't remember.”
“Six hundred thousand dollars.”
He looked at me.
“It wasn't mine.”
“Whose?”
“A company account.”
“Which company?”
He hesitated.
“Harper Industries.”
“Why was it transferred to a private account?”
“It wasn't.”
Mr. Bennett slid another document forward.
“It was.”
Jonathan stared at the papers.
“Where did you get these?”
“William kept copies.”
Jonathan leaned back.
“Then he kept incomplete records.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means you're drawing conclusions from transactions you don't understand.”
“Explain them.”
He said nothing.
I leaned closer.
“My mother said your name before she died.”
Jonathan's expression changed.
“You spoke to Helen Porter.”
“Yes.”
He exhaled.
“She remembers too much.”
“That sounds like a threat.”
“No.”
“It sounded like one.”
Jonathan looked at Mr. Bennett.
“You shouldn't have brought her into this.”
“She was already in it.”
Jonathan lowered his voice.
“You don't understand what you're dealing with.”
I almost smiled.
“Everyone says that.”
“Because it's true.”
“Then explain.”
He looked at me.
“Your father believed Elaine was going to expose something.”
“What?”
“Financial misconduct.”
“Whose?”
“Several people.”
“Vivian?”
He didn't answer.
“Thomas?”
Nothing.
“You?”
His eyes hardened.
“No.”
“Then who?”
Jonathan stared at the table.
“Elaine had discovered that company money was being moved through shell accounts.”
“How much?”
“Millions.”
I felt my stomach tighten.
“Where did it go?”
“Different accounts.”
“Controlled by whom?”
“Thomas.”
“And Vivian?”
“Indirectly.”
“What does that mean?”
“She received money.”
“How much?”
“Over the years, several hundred thousand.”
I looked at Mr. Bennett.
He was writing notes.
“Did Dad know?”
“Yes.”
“When?”
“Before Elaine died.”
“Then why didn't he stop it?”
Jonathan's expression became bitter.
“Because he thought he could trace it.”
“And could he?”
“Almost.”
“What stopped him?”
“Elaine.”
I frowned.
“What do you mean?”
“She found the records.”
“And?”
“She was going to take them to the authorities.”
My heart tightened.
“That was why she had to die.”
Jonathan looked at me.
“I didn't say that.”
“You didn't have to.”
He rubbed his forehead.
“I don't know who gave her the medication.”
“But you knew it happened.”
“I knew there was a problem.”
“What problem?”
“Vivian called me.”
“When?”
“The night Elaine died.”
“What did she say?”
“That Elaine was gone.”
“Did she sound surprised?”
“No.”
“Did she ask you to move money?”
He hesitated.
“Yes.”
My pulse quickened.
“How much?”
“Three hundred thousand.”
“Why?”
“She said William might discover the accounts.”
“So she was preparing to run.”
“She was preparing for scrutiny.”
“Same thing.”
Jonathan looked at me.
“Not exactly.”
“What else happened?”
“She asked me to destroy certain records.”
I stared.
“Did you?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because William had already warned me.”
“About what?”
“That if anyone asked me to destroy records, I was to preserve them.”
Dad.
Always preparing.
Always leaving instructions.
Jonathan reached into his briefcase.
He removed a folder.
“I kept copies.”
Mr. Bennett took it.
“What is this?”
“Transfers.”
“Between whom?”
“Thomas and Vivian.”
I looked at the pages.
There were dates.
Amounts.
Account numbers.
And one transfer stood out.
A payment of $150,000 to a company called Harbor Medical Consulting.
The date was the day Elaine died.
I looked at Jonathan.
“What is this?”
“I don't know.”
“Who owned the company?”
“I couldn't determine it.”
Mr. Bennett looked at the registration.
He frowned.
“It was dissolved ten years ago.”
“Who registered it?”
“Someone named Samuel Reed.”
Dr. Reed.
I felt sick.
“So the doctor received money.”
Jonathan nodded.
“After Elaine died.”
“Then the payment was for altering the record.”
“Possibly.”
I turned the page.
There was another payment.
Same amount.
Same company.
Three days before Elaine died.
I stared.
“Why was he paid before?”
Jonathan said nothing.
“Why?”
“I don't know.”
I looked at him.
“You do.”
He shook his head.
“I never understood the full arrangement.”
“Who did?”
“William.”
“Is that why he started investigating?”
“Yes.”
“Did he ever confront Vivian?”
“Not directly.”
“Why?”
“Because he feared she would destroy the evidence.”
“She already had.”
“No.”
Jonathan looked at me.
“She hadn't found everything.”
“What was left?”
“The ledger.”
“What ledger?”
“The original financial ledger.”
“Where is it?”
Jonathan hesitated.
“Your father hid it.”
“Where?”
“I don't know.”
Mr. Bennett spoke.
“You told William about the shell accounts.”
“Yes.”
“Did you tell him about Harbor Medical Consulting?”
“Yes.”
“What did he do?”
“He started looking into Dr. Reed.”
“And?”
“He discovered Reed wasn't the only doctor involved.”
My heart stopped.
“Another doctor?”
Jonathan nodded.
“Someone who had treated Elaine before she entered the hospital.”
“Who?”
Jonathan looked at me.
“Dr. Martin Cole.”
The name meant nothing.
But Mr. Bennett reacted.
“Cole?”
“You know him?”
“I've heard the name.”
“Where?”
“He represented one of the companies that acquired Elaine's shares.”
I looked at Jonathan.
“Acquired?”
“Temporarily.”
“What does that mean?”
Jonathan hesitated.
“Elaine's shares were transferred before she died.”
My stomach dropped.
“To whom?”
“A holding company.”
“Owned by?”
“Thomas.”
“And then?”
“Thomas transferred them.”
“To Vivian?”
“No.”
Jonathan looked at me.
“To William.”
I stared.
“Why?”
“To keep them from being taken.”
I didn't understand.
“Taken by whom?”
“Elaine's business partner.”
“Who?”
Jonathan shook his head.
“That person was never named in the records.”
I looked at Mr. Bennett.
“Can we find out?”
“Yes.”
Jonathan stood.
“I've told you enough.”
“No.”
He stopped.
“What else happened the night my mother died?”
He looked at me.
“I wasn't there.”
“But Vivian called you.”
“Yes.”
“What did she say?”
He hesitated.
“She said, 'It's done.'”
The words struck me.
“What did you think she meant?”
“At the time?”
“Yes.”
“I thought she meant the transfer.”
“And now?”
He looked at me.
“Now I think she meant Elaine.”
Silence.
I stood.
“Why didn't you tell Dad?”
“I did.”
“When?”
“Two days later.”
“What did he say?”
Jonathan looked away.
“He said, 'Then I was too late.'”
I closed my eyes.
Dad had known.
He had suspected.
He had investigated.
And he had carried the knowledge for years.
Jonathan reached for his briefcase.
“There's one more thing.”
“What?”
He handed me a small key.
“Your father gave me this.”
I looked at it.
“What does it open?”
“I don't know.”
“Then why give it to me?”
“He said if you ever came asking about Elaine, I should give it to you.”
I turned the key over.
There was a number engraved on it.
217.
Mr. Bennett stared.
“That looks like a safe-deposit key.”
Jonathan nodded.
“Your father had one.”
“Where?”
“At the bank.”
“Which bank?”
Jonathan gave me the name.
It was the same bank where Dad's original business accounts had been held.
I looked at Mr. Bennett.
“We're going.”
He nodded.
Jonathan started toward the door.
I stopped him.
“Did you help Vivian?”
He turned.
“No.”
“Did you protect her?”
His face tightened.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because I was afraid of what she knew about me.”
I understood.
Another secret.
Another person trapped by it.
As we left the coffee shop, Mr. Bennett's phone rang.
He answered.
His expression changed almost immediately.
“What?”
He listened.
Then looked at me.
“The bank called.”
“What happened?”
“Someone tried to access box 217 this morning.”
My hand tightened around the key.
“Who?”
“They couldn't identify him.”
Mr. Bennett lowered the phone.
“But the person had a key.”
Click here to continue reading: PART 12: Someone Tried to Open Dad’s Safe Before We Arrived, and the Contents Revealed Why He Never Trusted Vivian With the Whole Truth
My Sister Demanded Proof I Was Dad’s Daughter, But the Lawyer Had Already Prepared Something She Never Expected
Part 11 of 20
