The ledger was removed under Daniel's supervision.
I watched the investigators carry it out.
For the first time since this began, I felt as though something solid had been taken out of Brooke's hands.
Then Evelyn found the account number.
It was written inside the back cover.
She compared it with the bank records.
“They match.”
“What does the account hold?”
“Funds connected to the property.”
“How much?”
She looked at me.
“Enough that someone would kill to control it.”
Daniel immediately interrupted.
“Let's not speculate.”
Evelyn nodded.
“Fair.”
She opened the folder.
“The documented balance is just under three hundred thousand dollars.”
I stared at her.
“That much?”
“It accumulated through rents, sales, and investment income.”
“Who had access?”
“Originally your grandfather.”
“Then Dad?”
“Possibly.”
“Mom?”
“Possibly.”
“Brooke?”
“Definitely.”
I looked toward my father.
“How?”
He shook his head.
“I don't know.”
Daniel asked him to sit.
“Mr. Hale, I need you to tell me exactly what you remember about this account.”
Dad looked exhausted.
“I remember my father telling me it existed.”
“When?”
“After Miranda was born.”
“Why?”
“He said it belonged to her.”
I looked at him.
“You knew it was mine?”
“I knew he said it was intended for you.”
“And you did nothing?”
“I was supposed to transfer it when you turned eighteen.”
“Why didn't you?”
“Your mother asked me not to.”
I turned toward her.
She had come inside quietly.
I hadn't heard the door open.
“Why?”
She looked at me.
“Because Brooke knew about it.”
“What does that have to do with me?”
“She threatened to take it.”
“How?”
“She said she would expose the property records.”
I stared at her.
“So you kept my inheritance hidden to protect Brooke.”
“I thought I was protecting you.”
“You didn't ask me.”
“No.”
“You decided for me.”
“Yes.”
The admission was painful because she didn't defend it.
She simply accepted it.
Daniel asked, “When did Brooke first learn about the account?”
My mother answered.
“When she was nineteen.”
“And what happened?”
“She asked for money.”
“How much?”
“Ten thousand.”
“Did you give it to her?”
“Yes.”
“From the account?”
My mother looked down.
“Yes.”
I felt numb.
“How much did she take?”
“I don't remember.”
Evelyn opened the bank records.
“We can determine that.”
She began tracing the withdrawals.
The numbers grew.
Ten thousand.
Eight thousand.
Fifteen thousand.
Twenty thousand.
Again and again.
Brooke had drained the account over several years.
But she hadn't taken everything.
A remaining balance still existed.
“Where is the rest?” I asked.
Evelyn pointed to a transfer.
It had been made six months before I registered Holt Ridge.
The money had gone to an account under my father's name.
I looked at him.
“What did you do with it?”
“I don't know.”
“You don't know?”
“I was told to move it.”
“By whom?”
He looked at my mother.
She whispered:
“Me.”
I felt anger rising again.
“Why?”
“Because Brooke had found the account.”
“And you moved the money.”
“Yes.”
“To Dad's account.”
“Yes.”
“Then where did it go?”
My mother closed her eyes.
“I gave it to Charles Vane.”
The name seemed to change the air in the room.
Daniel immediately wrote it down.
“Why?”
“He said he could protect it.”
“From whom?”
“Brooke.”
“And did he?”
“No.”
“Where is the money now?”
“I don't know.”
Evelyn checked the records.
“The account was closed.”
“When?”
“Four years ago.”
The same year the authorization documents appeared.
The same year Brooke's involvement became deeper.
I looked at my mother.
“Did Charles Vane have anything to do with the company?”
“Yes.”
“How much?”
“He advised your grandfather.”
“Did he advise you?”
“Yes.”
“Did he know about property seventeen?”
“Yes.”
Daniel asked, “Where is he now?”
My mother shook her head.
“I don't know.”
Daniel's phone rang.
He answered.
Then his expression changed.
“What?”
He listened.
“Send me the address.”
He ended the call.
“We found him.”
“Where?”
“An assisted-living facility.”
I looked at Evelyn.
“Is he sick?”
Daniel shook his head.
“That's not what I said.”
We drove there that afternoon.
Charles Vane was older than I expected.
He sat beside a window overlooking a courtyard.
When we entered, he looked directly at my father.
Then at me.
“You finally came.”
My father froze.
Charles smiled faintly.
“I wondered how long it would take.”
I sat opposite him.
“You know who I am.”
“Your grandfather's granddaughter.”
“And property seventeen?”
His eyes sharpened.
“So you found it.”
“Yes.”
He nodded.
“I knew you would.”
“Did you know Brooke was using my identity?”
“No.”
“Did you know about the money?”
“Yes.”
“How much?”
“Enough.”
I leaned forward.
“Where did my inheritance go?”
Charles looked at my father.
“He knows.”
Dad shook his head.
“No.”
Charles laughed softly.
“You've always been a terrible liar.”
I looked at Dad.
“Tell me.”
My father looked devastated.
Then he finally spoke.
“I gave the money back to your grandfather.”
I stared at him.
“He was dead.”
“No.”
The room went silent.
“What?”
Dad's voice trembled.
“Your grandfather was alive after everyone believed he had died.”
I couldn't breathe.
“How long?”
“Almost two years.”
“Where?”
“I don't know.”
Charles answered.
“South Carolina.”
I looked at him.
“Why?”
“He had been hiding.”
“From whom?”
“Peter Lawson's family.”
The mystery deepened.
“What happened to Peter?”
Charles looked toward the window.
“Your grandfather didn't kill him.”
I felt a strange release.
Then Charles added:
“But he knew who did.”
“Who?”
He looked at my father.
My father lowered his head.
Charles said:
“Your father.”
I stood.
“No.”
Dad began to cry.
“It wasn't intentional.”
I stared at him.
“What happened?”
He covered his face.
Charles continued.
“Peter confronted him at the warehouse.”
Dad whispered:
“He grabbed me.”
“And?”
“I pushed him.”
Charles nodded.
“Peter fell.”
My stomach dropped.
“Was he dead?”
“No.”
“Then what happened?”
Dad's voice broke.
“I left.”
Charles looked at me.
“Someone else arrived.”
“Who?”
He didn't answer.
My phone rang.
Daniel.
I answered.
“Miranda, we need you to come back.”
“Why?”
“We found Peter Lawson.”
My entire body went still.
“What?”
“He's alive.”
Click here to continue reading: PART 11: The Man Everyone Thought Had Died Was Alive, and His Account of That Night Changed the Story My Family Had Told for Decades
The Christmas Invitation My Parents Never Answered Left Me Wondering Who Had Decided I Wasn’t Worth Showing Up For
Part 10 of 20
