CHAPTER 12
The trial was still months away.
That surprised me.
After everything investigators had found, I wanted a courtroom immediately.
I wanted someone to say guilty.
I wanted Daniel somewhere so locked down that he could never see Emma through another window.
But the legal system moved differently from fear.
Slowly.
Paper by paper.
Motion by motion.
Daniel remained jailed without bond.
Vanessa also stayed in custody.
She eventually accepted a plea agreement.
Not freedom.
Not forgiveness.
A guilty plea.
Attempted murder.
Conspiracy.
Child endangerment.
Evidence tampering.
She agreed to testify against Daniel.
In return, prosecutors dismissed several lesser charges and promised to tell the sentencing judge that she had cooperated.
When Eleanor told Lucas, he was quiet.
“How long will Mom be gone?”
“We don’t know yet.”
“Years?”
“Yes.”
“Lots?”
“Probably.”
He nodded.
Then he went outside.
I found him sitting on the porch.
“You okay?”
“No.”
I sat beside him.
He looked at me angrily.
“I wanted her to tell the truth.”
“She did.”
“So why does it still feel bad?”
“Because truth doesn’t erase what happened.”
He kicked the railing.
“That’s stupid.”
“Yeah.”
He looked at me.
“You’re supposed to say something wise.”
“I don’t have anything wise.”
That made him smile for half a second.
Then he started crying.
I put my arm around him.
“I miss her.”
“I know.”
“I hate her.”
“I know.”
“I love her.”
“I know.”
“All at the same time.”
“I know.”
He leaned against me.
“That’s exhausting.”
“Yes.”
Inside, Emma began crying.
Lucas wiped his face.
“I’ll get her bottle.”
That was how he healed.
Not in one dramatic moment.
In tiny choices.
Doing homework.
Feeding his sister.
Sleeping through the night.
Laughing without feeling guilty afterward.
I was healing the same way.
I started therapy.
At first, I hated it.
My therapist asked what I felt when I saw pools.
“Nothing.”
She didn’t believe me.
She asked what I felt when someone walked behind me unexpectedly.
“Annoyed.”
She didn’t believe that either.
Finally, I told her the truth.
I felt hunted.
Even with Daniel in jail.
Even with cameras around Eleanor’s property.
Even when I knew the doors were locked.
Some part of me still expected a stroller to start rolling toward danger.
The therapist taught me grounding exercises.
I thought they were ridiculous.
Then they helped.
That annoyed me too.
Eleanor was dealing with her own pain.
One night, I found her in Arthur’s study holding an old photograph.
Daniel was maybe ten in the picture.
Arthur stood behind him.
Eleanor looked up.
“I keep trying to find the moment.”
“What moment?”
“When I should have known.”
I sat across from her.
“You couldn’t predict this.”
“He lied as a child.”
“So did I.”
“He stole.”
“A lot of kids steal something.”
“He enjoyed watching other children get blamed.”
That made me pause.
Eleanor stared at the photograph.
“I told myself he would grow out of it.”
“You’re not responsible for his adult choices.”
“I know.”
She sounded like she didn’t.
“He is my son.”
“And Lucas is your grandson.”
“Yes.”
“Emma is your granddaughter.”
Her eyes filled.
“Your job now is them.”
She looked at me.
“When did you become the sensible one?”
“Probably after the attempted drowning.”
She laughed unexpectedly.
It felt good to hear.
The next major development came from Hale Industries.
Arthur’s audit was finally reconstructed.
Peter Sloan, the missing accountant, was still gone.
But his firm had backups.
Daniel had stolen more than sixty million dollars over six years.
Loans.
Fake vendors.
Offshore transfers.
The company board removed him permanently.
The trust controlling shares remained with Emma.
Eleanor was appointed independent trustee until Emma came of age.
Daniel’s financial empire collapsed in less than a week.
Properties were frozen.
Accounts seized.
His private aircraft were grounded.
The penthouse went into receivership.
Lucas watched a news report about it.
“Are we poor now?”
Eleanor nearly choked on her tea.
“No, sweetheart.”
“Dad always said money keeps people safe.”
I looked at him.
“Did it keep him safe?”
Lucas thought about it.
“No.”
“Then maybe he was wrong.”
The biggest surprise came two weeks later.
Peter Sloan was found alive.
He had been hiding.
Not kidnapped.
Not dead.
Hiding.
Alvarez brought him into protective custody.
Peter had discovered Daniel was watching him.
Mason warned him to disappear.
That was one good thing Mason had done.
Peter fled before Daniel could reach him.
He carried copies of Arthur’s audit.
And an audio recording from his final meeting with Arthur.
I listened because Eleanor asked me to sit with her.
Arthur’s voice sounded weak but clear.
“If anything happens to me before this amendment is corrected, Daniel benefits.”
Peter answered, “Do you believe your son would hurt you?”
A long silence.
Then Arthur said, “I believe my son has reached a point where money matters more to him than people.”
Eleanor covered her mouth.
The recording continued.
Arthur said, “Protect Emma.”
That destroyed her.
I held her hand while she cried.
Arthur had known.
Not everything.
But enough.
Later, Peter gave investigators documents showing Daniel had ordered unauthorized changes to Arthur’s medication account shortly before his death.
A doctor had supposedly increased one prescription.
The doctor denied it.
Someone had forged the order.
Daniel’s assistant admitted Mason delivered the paperwork.
There was still no body to examine.
No toxicology.
But the pattern was becoming impossible to ignore.
Prosecutors considered another murder charge.
I asked Alvarez whether Arthur would ever get justice.
She looked at the growing wall of evidence.
“Maybe not the kind we want.”
“What does that mean?”
“We may never prove exactly how he died.”
“So Daniel gets away with it?”
“No.”
She shook her head.
“He’s already facing enough charges to spend the rest of his life in prison.”
I understood.
But I also understood why Eleanor kept Arthur’s photograph beside her bed.
May you like
Justice wasn’t always one verdict.
Sometimes it was simply making sure the person who caused the harm could never cause it again.
