Patrice moved the evidence into a secure location that evening. The photograph was examined for fingerprints and markings, but nothing immediately useful emerged. Whoever had sent it had handled it carefully.
That bothered me.
Not because I expected fingerprints.
Because it meant the person knew what they were doing.
“You think this is connected to Dale?” I asked.
“I think someone wants you to believe it is.”
“And you?”
“I think we should wait until we know.”
I nodded.
Waiting had become harder than acting.
For years, I had allowed other people to make decisions while I stood back and trusted them.
Now every unanswered question made me want to move.
But Patrice was right.
The evidence mattered more than my impatience.
The next morning, we searched Daniel's records for references to the woman in the photograph.
Her name was Elena Brooks.
She had worked as a corporate filing specialist.
She had handled documents for dozens of businesses.
Among them were two connected to Dale.
But Elena had never been listed as an employee of Harris Commercial Roofing.
She had worked independently.
That gave Dale plausible distance.
It also made her difficult to connect directly to the fraud.
Then we found her connection to Daniel.
A payment.
Not from Dale.
From Daniel.
The payment was dated two days before his death.
The amount was small.
Three hundred dollars.
“What was it for?” I asked.
Patrice enlarged the transaction description.
Consultation.
Nothing else.
“Maybe Daniel hired her.”
“For what?”
“We don't know.”
I stared at the photograph.
Daniel had met Elena.
He had paid her.
He had given her something.
Then he died.
The question wasn't whether they knew each other.
It was what they knew together.
Patrice contacted Elena's former employer.
They had no current information.
But an older employee remembered her.
“She handled difficult files,” he said.
“What kind of difficult files?”
“Corporate restructuring.”
“Did she work with Dale Harris?”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“She helped create holding companies.”
My stomach tightened.
“Did she create Harris Construction Holdings?”
The man hesitated.
“I believe so.”
That was the first direct connection.
Elena had helped establish the company.
The company created under my name.
The company Daniel discovered.
The company Dale used to move millions.
I felt anger rise.
Then something else.
If Elena had helped create the structure, perhaps she knew exactly how Dale had done it.
Maybe she had proof.
Maybe Daniel had obtained that proof.
Maybe he had given it back to her.
The possibilities multiplied.
We located an old professional address for Elena in another state.
Patrice contacted the authorities there.
The response came two days later.
Elena was alive.
And she was willing to talk.
I didn't know whether to feel relieved or afraid.
We arranged a video interview.
Elena appeared on screen from a quiet office.
She looked older than the photograph.
Her hair was gray at the temples.
She studied me for several seconds.
“You're Carol.”
“Yes.”
“I wondered when you'd find me.”
My stomach tightened.
“You knew I was looking?”
“Yes.”
“Who sent the photograph?”
She looked away.
“Someone who wants the truth out.”
“Dale?”
“No.”
That answer surprised me.
“Then who?”
“I don't know.”
Patrice asked the next question.
“Did Daniel give you documents before his death?”
Elena nodded.
“Yes.”
“What documents?”
“The original incorporation records.”
“Why?”
“Because he discovered the signatures had been fabricated.”
I stared at her.
“What did he want you to do?”
“He wanted me to testify.”
“Why didn't you?”
She looked down.
“Because I was afraid.”
Again.
Fear.
But this time I understood something.
Fear did not always mean cowardice.
Sometimes it meant a person had seen how dangerous someone could become.
“What happened after Daniel died?” Patrice asked.
Elena swallowed.
“I received a call from Dale.”
“What did he say?”
“He told me Daniel was dead.”
“Did he ask for the documents?”
“Yes.”
“Did you give them to him?”
“No.”
“Where were they?”
Elena looked directly at me.
“With someone I trusted.”
“Who?”
She hesitated.
“Your brother had a daughter.”
“Rachel?”
“Yes.”
My heart stopped.
“Did Daniel give the documents to Rachel?”
“Not exactly.”
“Then who?”
Elena shook her head.
“I can't tell you.”
“Why?”
“Because I made a promise.”
I leaned toward the screen.
“Daniel is dead.”
“I know.”
“He left me a box.”
“I know.”
“He left me evidence.”
“I know.”
“Then what could possibly still be missing?”
Elena's expression softened.
“The original documents.”
I stared at her.
“Where are they?”
“I can't say.”
“Why?”
“Because I don't know who is watching.”
Patrice leaned closer.
“Ms. Brooks, the court proceedings are over.”
“Not all of them.”
“What do you mean?”
Elena glanced away from the camera.
“There are assets you never recovered.”
My heart began pounding.
“What assets?”
“Properties transferred before the company was discovered.”
“How many?”
“Three.”
Patrice's face tightened.
“Where?”
“I don't know exactly.”
“You must.”
“I know the counties.”
She gave us three names.
None were familiar.
But Patrice immediately began searching.
Elena continued.
“Daniel knew about those properties.”
“Did Dale?”
“Yes.”
“Did Margaret?”
“Yes.”
“Who owns them now?”
Elena shook her head.
“That's the part I don't know.”
The call ended shortly afterward.
I sat silently.
Three properties.
Assets outside the settlement.
Money Dale had hidden before the investigation began.
The possibility made my chest ache.
Not because I wanted more money.
Because it meant Dale's plan might not have ended.
Patrice spent the next week tracing the properties.
Two were empty lots.
The third was a small commercial building.
All three had been transferred through companies with different names.
But the ownership chain eventually led back to one person.
Margaret.
I felt a strange mixture of anger and disappointment.
She had cooperated.
She had testified.
She had admitted what she knew.
Yet something remained hidden.
Patrice called her.
Margaret arrived two days later.
She looked exhausted.
“I didn't keep them,” she said before sitting down.
“Then where are they?”
“Dale transferred them before I knew investigators were involved.”
“You knew about them.”
“Yes.”
“And you said nothing.”
“I was afraid.”
I almost stood.
Patrice touched my arm.
“Let her finish.”
Margaret looked at me.
“He put those properties into a separate arrangement.”
“What arrangement?”
“A trust.”
“Whose?”
She hesitated.
“Yours.”
I stared at her.
“My trust?”
“Yes.”
“Under my name?”
“Yes.”
“Then why weren't they part of the settlement?”
“Because the trust wasn't recorded in the same state.”
Patrice leaned forward.
“Where?”
Margaret named the state.
Patrice's expression changed.
“We'll verify it.”
Margaret nodded.
“There was another person involved.”
“Who?”
“Dale's attorney.”
I felt cold.
“Name?”
She gave it.
Patrice wrote it down.
Then Margaret said something else.
“The trust was created shortly before Daniel died.”
I looked at her.
“Why?”
“I don't know.”
“But Daniel knew about it.”
“Yes.”
“Did he create it?”
“No.”
“Did Dale?”
“Yes.”
“Then why put my name on it?”
Margaret looked at me.
“Because if something happened to Dale, the assets would appear to belong to you.”
That sounded almost generous.
Until she continued.
“But there was a clause.”
“What clause?”
“If you challenged the trust, the assets would revert.”
“To whom?”
Margaret lowered her eyes.
“Dale.”
The room went silent.
Even after everything, he had found another way to make my name serve him.
But Daniel had known.
And apparently, he had been trying to expose that arrangement too.
I looked at Patrice.
“What do we do?”
She closed her notebook.
“We find the trust.”
“And then?”
“We find out whether the assets are still there.”
I nodded.
For the first time in months, the past was moving again.
But this time, I wasn't afraid of what we would discover.
I was afraid of what Dale might have left behind.
Click here to continue reading: PART 15: The Trust Carried My Name but Hid a Condition Designed to Keep Me From Ever Touching the Assets Dale Claimed Were Mine
The Woman Who Knew My Husband Too Well Sat in My Chair and Started Describing a Life I Had Never Seen
Part 14 of 20
