The investigators arrived within minutes.
Robert was questioned separately.
Michael, Jennifer, and Lisa were instructed to remain at the office.
I sat alone in a conference room, staring at Richard's photograph.
His face looked peaceful.
I hated that.
Peaceful photographs made death seem simpler than it was.
It hadn't been simple.
He had been investigating.
He had been hiding documents.
He had been trying to protect me.
And now we were learning that someone had died because they knew too much.
Thomas entered.
“Susan's death is being treated as suspicious.”
“Did she leave the message?”
“Yes.”
“To whom?”
“Robert.”
“What did it say?”
Thomas sat across from me.
“She wrote that Richard was supposed to survive.”
I felt a cold pressure in my chest.
“Then what happened?”
“We don't know yet.”
“Someone changed something.”
“Possibly.”
“His medication?”
“We're looking into it.”
I stared at the table.
Elaine had changed a medication with Richard's knowledge.
Someone else may have changed something afterward.
Thomas continued.
“The investigators found another pharmacy record.”
“Where?”
“At a different location.”
“Whose name?”
“Richard's.”
“But he didn't go there.”
“No.”
“Then someone used his information.”
I closed my eyes.
“Who?”
“We don't know.”
The children entered.
Michael looked frightened.
Jennifer was crying quietly.
Lisa held her arms across her chest.
I looked at them.
“Your father's death may have been connected to everything we've uncovered.”
Michael sat down.
“Mom…”
“Did anyone ever ask you to interfere with Dad's medication?”
“No.”
“Did David?”
“No.”
“Did Susan?”
Michael shook his head.
Jennifer said, “She spoke to me once.”
I turned.
“When?”
“After Dad died.”
“What did she say?”
“She asked whether I knew who had access to the house.”
“Why?”
“I don't know.”
“What else?”
Jennifer looked at Michael.
“He told me not to talk about it.”
Michael frowned.
“I don't remember that.”
Jennifer looked confused.
“I thought you did.”
There it was.
Another missing piece.
I refused to let the conversation become another cycle of uncertainty.
“Jennifer, think carefully.”
She closed her eyes.
“Susan said Dad had been afraid of someone.”
“Who?”
“She didn't say.”
“Did she mention Robert?”
“No.”
“Thomas?”
“No.”
“David?”
“No.”
“Me?”
Jennifer shook her head.
“She said, ‘Your father knows what they did.’”
“What did she mean?”
“I don't know.”
Thomas entered again.
He had a new file.
“We found the person who authorized the second pharmacy transaction.”
Everyone became silent.
“Who?”
Thomas looked at me.
“Your primary care coordinator's system shows the request came from an external device.”
“Whose device?”
“We're tracing it.”
“Can you?”
“Yes.”
He placed a printed log on the table.
The device had connected from a hotel.
The date was the night before Richard died.
I felt the room go cold.
“Which hotel?”
Thomas gave me the name.
I recognized it.
Richard had stayed there the night before his last hospital visit.
But he hadn't stayed alone.
Someone had accompanied him.
I remembered now.
Robert had mentioned meeting him.
“Robert.”
Thomas shook his head.
“Not Robert.”
“Then who?”
He showed me the guest record.
The room had been booked under Richard's name.
A second guest was listed.
I read the name.
My heart stopped.
It was Susan Blake.
“But Susan was supposedly gone.”
“Yes.”
“She stayed with him.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“We don't know.”
I looked at the children.
Michael suddenly stood.
“I remember.”
Everyone turned.
“What?”
“Dad told me Susan had come back.”
“When?”
“Three weeks before he died.”
“Why didn't you tell me?”
“Because Dad told me not to.”
I stared at him.
“What did she do?”
“She was helping him organize records.”
“Which records?”
“I don't know.”
“Did she meet David?”
“I think so.”
“Did she meet Robert?”
“Yes.”
“Thomas?”
Michael hesitated.
“I think so.”
I looked at Thomas.
“Did you meet Susan?”
“Yes.”
“When?”
“Several times.”
“Why didn't you tell me?”
“Because Richard asked me to keep her return confidential.”
I felt something inside me give way.
Everyone had been keeping secrets for Richard.
But one secret had become too large.
Susan had been alive.
She had been working with Richard.
She had been in the hotel the night before he died.
She had access to his medication records.
And now she was dead.
Thomas received another call.
He listened.
Then his face changed.
“What?”
He ended the call.
“They found Susan's car.”
“Where?”
“Three blocks from the hotel.”
“What's inside?”
“Her bag.”
“Anything useful?”
“Yes.”
He opened the evidence report.
A notebook.
A flash drive.
And a photograph.
I stared at the photograph.
It showed Richard, Susan, and another person.
The third person was partially turned away.
But I recognized the jacket.
I had seen it before.
At our house.
At Richard's office.
At the funeral.
I looked at Thomas.
“Who is that?”
He enlarged the image.
The face became visible.
My breath stopped.
It was Frank Dalton.
But Frank had already confessed.
He had already admitted giving Michael financial information.
He had claimed he didn't know who forged the documents.
Now the photograph suggested he had been meeting Susan privately.
Thomas called Frank.
No answer.
Again.
Nothing.
An investigator tried his office.
Empty.
His house.
Empty.
His car was gone.
Michael looked at me.
“Mom.”
I shook my head.
“Don't.”
“But—”
“Not until we know.”
I refused to accuse another person without evidence.
Then the flash drive was opened.
It contained hundreds of files.
Financial statements.
Medical records.
Emails.
Scans of signatures.
And a folder labeled RICHARD — FINAL.
Thomas opened it.
Inside was a video.
Richard was sitting at his desk.
He looked tired.
But he was speaking directly to the camera.
“If you're watching this, I wasn't able to finish what I started.”
My hands trembled.
Richard continued.
“I need you to understand that the person you're looking for isn't the person who wants the property.”
He paused.
“The property was bait.”
I looked at Thomas.
Richard's voice continued.
“I needed to know who would reach for it.”
My eyes filled.
“That is how I found them.”
He leaned closer to the camera.
“There is one person who has been moving money for years.”
The video paused.
Then resumed.
“I trusted him because he helped build my first company.”
I looked at Robert's photograph.
Richard continued.
“He has access to the accounts. He knows my passwords. He knows my family. And he believes everything I built belongs partly to him.”
The room seemed to disappear.
Robert.
But then Richard said something that made me freeze.
“He is not working alone.”
The video ended.
No name.
No explanation.
Just one final file.
A scanned document.
A bank transfer.
The recipient was a company controlled by Robert.
But the sender wasn't Richard.
It was Pierce Development.
I stared at the amount.
One million dollars.
Date: two days before Richard died.
Thomas whispered, “That's the payment.”
“What payment?”
“The payment Susan was talking about.”
“For what?”
“We need to find out.”
I looked at the children.
Michael shook his head.
“I didn't know.”
Jennifer whispered, “Neither did I.”
Lisa looked toward the door.
“Where's Frank?”
No one answered.
Then an investigator entered.
“We found him.”
My heart tightened.
“Where?”
“He went to the cemetery.”
“Why?”
“He's standing beside Richard's grave.”
“Alone?”
“No.”
I waited.
The investigator looked at Thomas.
“Someone is with him.”
“Who?”
The answer came slowly.
“Robert Hale.”
I felt the blood drain from my face.
Two men.
One grave.
One million dollars.
A dead assistant.
A missing trail of money.
And a secret Richard had taken to his death.
I stood.
“We're going.”
Thomas shook his head.
“You shouldn't.”
“I am.”
“Maggie—”
“If Robert is there with Frank, I need to hear what they say.”
Thomas looked at me.
Then he nodded.
We drove to the cemetery in silence.
As we approached Richard's grave, I saw two figures standing beneath the old oak tree.
Frank.
Robert.
Neither noticed us at first.
Then Robert turned.
His expression changed.
Frank followed his gaze.
For a moment, nobody moved.
Then Robert said something to Frank.
Frank shook his head.
Robert stepped closer to the grave.
And when he finally looked at me, there was no fear in his face.
Only resignation.
“Maggie,” he said, “you deserve to know what happened that night.”
I stopped several feet away.
“What happened?”
Robert looked down at Richard's name carved into stone.
Then he said:
“Your husband discovered who was stealing the money.”
I waited.
“He confronted him.”
“Who?”
Robert looked directly at me.
And this time, there was no hesitation.
“Frank.”
Frank closed his eyes.
But before I could speak, Robert added the words that changed everything.
“Frank wasn't the one who killed Richard.”
Click here to continue reading: PART 17: Frank Finally Told Me Why Richard Confronted Him, but the Truth About Who Was Behind the Money Made His Betrayal Only Half the Story
The Night I Realized My Children Had Stopped Seeing Me as Their Mother and Started Seeing Me as Someone They Would Eventually Inherit From
Part 16 of 20
