We reached the hospital within minutes.
Patricia had disappeared from the waiting area.
A nurse said she had been there less than ten minutes earlier.
She had spoken quietly to Melissa.
Then she had walked out.
No one had thought anything of it.
Until the detective arrived.
Brian looked around the corridor.
“Where would she go?”
The detective shook his head.
“We're checking cameras.”
Melissa sat beside Ethan's hospital bed.
Her face changed when she saw us.
“What happened?”
“Patricia left.”
Melissa went pale.
“She wouldn't leave.”
“She did.”
Melissa looked toward the window.
“She said she was going to make a call.”
“What call?”
“I don't know.”
The detective asked for the exact time.
A nurse checked the system.
“Ten minutes ago.”
The security footage showed Patricia walking toward the rear exit.
She carried only her handbag.
No coat.
No suitcase.
No obvious preparation.
The detective watched the recording twice.
“She wasn't running.”
Brian frowned.
“What does that mean?”
“She didn't think she needed to.”
A terrible silence followed.
Then Brian's phone rang.
Unknown number.
He answered.
“Hello?”
Nothing.
“Who is this?”
A woman's breathing came through.
Then Patricia's voice.
“Brian.”
He closed his eyes.
“Mom, where are you?”
“I need you to listen.”
“Where are you?”
“Don't involve the police.”
The detective immediately motioned for Brian to keep her talking.
Brian nodded.
“Why?”
“Because they don't understand.”
“What don't they understand?”
“I didn't take Ethan.”
“You knew where he was.”
“I knew where Derek kept him.”
Brian's jaw tightened.
“Why didn't you tell us?”
“Because Derek threatened you.”
Brian stared at the floor.
“What did he threaten?”
Patricia's voice broke.
“He said he'd kill you.”
Brian looked at me.
I could see the question in his face.
The detective pointed toward the phone.
Brian continued.
“Why did you frame Angela?”
There was silence.
“I didn't think it would go this far.”
“You stole her identity.”
“I needed access to the account.”
“What account?”
Patricia began crying.
“Your father's.”
Brian's voice dropped.
“You knew Angela was the beneficiary.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because your father told me.”
The detective's eyes narrowed.
Brian asked, “When?”
“Before he died.”
“What did he tell you?”
“He said the money belonged to someone else.”
Brian's face tightened.
“Who?”
Patricia didn't answer.
“Mom.”
“I can't.”
“You can.”
“I promised.”
“To Dad?”
“Yes.”
Brian looked at me.
“Then why did you steal from us?”
“I wasn't stealing it for myself.”
“Then who?”
Patricia breathed shakily.
“Someone your father was afraid of.”
The line went silent.
Brian checked the phone.
“Mom?”
Nothing.
Then the call ended.
The detective immediately asked the telecommunications team to trace it.
A minute later, they had a location.
An abandoned roadside motel.
We followed the police there.
The room was empty.
But Patricia had left something behind.
A handwritten note lay on the bed.
Brian picked it up.
The note contained only one sentence.
*Ask your father why he trusted Angela.**
Brian stared at it.
“What does that mean?”
Daniel had arrived by then.
He read the note.
“Your father may have left something for Angela.”
“Where?”
Daniel shook his head.
“That's what Patricia was trying to tell you.”
The detective searched the room.
Inside a drawer, he found a key.
Attached to it was a small metal tag.
The number was 214.
Brian recognized it.
“That's Dad's old office.”
The detective looked at him.
“Where?”
“At the construction company.”
The building had been closed since the company was sold.
We drove there immediately.
The office smelled of dust and old paper.
Brian led us down a hallway.
His father's office was still there.
A faded nameplate remained on the door.
He unlocked it.
Inside, the furniture was covered with dust sheets.
A calendar from three years earlier still hung on the wall.
Brian stood in the doorway.
“My father never let anyone clean this room.”
Daniel looked around.
“Where would he hide something?”
Brian walked to the desk.
He opened drawers.
Nothing.
He checked the bookshelf.
Nothing.
Then he stopped.
A small framed photograph sat beside the window.
It showed Brian's father standing with several employees.
Brian lifted it.
Behind the frame was an envelope.
My name was written on it.
Angela Brooks.
My hands began shaking.
I took it.
The envelope was sealed.
The detective watched me.
“You should open it.”
I broke the seal.
Inside was a letter.
The handwriting was unmistakably Brian's father's.
He began by saying he had made mistakes.
He admitted that money had been moved from the company.
But he insisted it had not been for personal gain.
He had discovered that someone inside the company was diverting money into accounts controlled by Derek Cole.
He had tried to stop it.
That was when the threats began.
Then came the sentence that made Brian sit down.
*If anything happens to me, Angela Brooks is the only person I trust to uncover the truth.**
I looked at Brian.
He couldn't speak.
The letter continued.
Brian's father had apparently met me several times through the hospital charity program.
He had noticed how I handled money.
He had watched me refuse a donation when the organization couldn't provide proper documentation.
He had trusted my judgment.
He had changed the beneficiary of his private account to me because he believed the money would eventually expose the theft.
The account contained more than sixty-one thousand dollars.
Much more.
The exact amount was nearly three hundred thousand.
Brian covered his mouth.
“That much?”
I kept reading.
The money had been accumulated from recovered company funds.
His father intended to return it.
But before he could, he died.
The letter ended with a warning.
*Do not trust anyone who tells you the money is gone.**
I looked up.
The detective took the letter.
“There's more.”
He pointed to a line at the bottom.
A second handwriting appeared beneath the signature.
*He should never have trusted her.**
Brian stared.
“That's not Dad.”
“No,” Daniel said.
“It was written later.”
The detective photographed it.
Then he noticed something else.
A faint fingerprint appeared beneath the ink.
The forensic team would need time to identify it.
We left the office with the letter sealed in evidence.
Outside, Brian stood beside me.
“I owe you an apology.”
I looked at him.
“For what?”
“For believing the evidence instead of you.”
I didn't answer immediately.
“You didn't just believe evidence.”
He lowered his head.
“You believed your mother.”
“Yes.”
“And I let her.”
I looked toward the building.
“She knew exactly how to make you doubt me.”
Brian swallowed.
“I don't know how to fix that.”
“Maybe you don't.”
He looked at me.
“Then what do I do?”
“Tell the truth.”
He nodded.
“I will.”
The detective approached us.
“We found Patricia.”
Brian turned.
“Where?”
“She turned herself in.”
Relief crossed his face.
But the detective didn't look relieved.
“She brought something with her.”
“What?”
“A second set of bank records.”
Daniel looked sharply at him.
“From where?”
The detective answered.
“Derek Cole's personal files.”
Brian went still.
“Is Derek there?”
“No.”
“Where is he?”
The detective's expression hardened.
“We don't know.”
Then he handed Brian a photograph.
It showed Derek standing outside the hospital.
Taken that morning.
Brian looked at the timestamp.
His face drained.
Derek had been watching Ethan.
And he had been watching us.
Click here to continue reading: PART 8: Derek’s Records Revealed the Real Purpose Behind the Sixty-One Thousand Dollars and Put Brian’s Entire Family at Risk
The Accusation That Turned Nine Years of Marriage Into a Question I Could Not Answer
Part 7 of 20
