Chapter 7: The Secret My Father Took to His Grave
The attorney arrived at my mother's house the following morning carrying a leather briefcase, a stack of printed documents, and an expression that told me our situation was worse than I had imagined.
Her name was Catherine Brooks. She was in her early fifties, with silver threaded through her dark hair and the kind of steady gaze that made people answer questions honestly.
She sat at the kitchen table where my father had once taught me to play chess.
Mom placed three cups of coffee on the table, although none of us touched them.
Catherine opened her briefcase.
“Before we discuss the loan, I need to establish something important. Neither of you should contact Marcus or Richard Hale until we've secured the evidence.””
I frowned.
“Richard is dead. Marcus told me his father died several years ago.””
Catherine stopped sorting the papers.
“Richard Hale's death has not been confirmed in any of the public records I reviewed.””
I stared at her.
“What?””
“The company records indicate that Richard Hale resigned from his executive position several years ago. They don't establish that he died.””
Mom slowly lowered herself into a chair.
“But Marcus told us his father died.””
Catherine looked at me.
“Did you ever attend a funeral?””
I shook my head.
“No. Marcus said the family handled everything privately. He told me Richard had died after a long illness.””
Catherine made a note.
“Then we need to verify that claim independently.””
I looked at the old photograph from Dad's metal box. Richard Hale stood beside my father outside a commercial building, with a younger Marcus at his side.
Three men.
Three lives tied together by a secret that had survived my father's death.
“What did you find in the documents I sent you?”” I asked.
Catherine opened a folder.
“The loan appears to have been arranged through a private lending company called Northstar Holdings. The company has changed its registered officers several times, but its financial records suggest that it was connected to a network of businesses Richard Hale once controlled.””
She placed a printed page in front of me.
“Your father's name appears on several guarantees. Some are dated after his death.””
I felt my stomach turn.
“That's impossible.””
“Exactly. And your mother's name appears on documents she says she never signed. Your signature appears on the recent deed, which you deny authorizing.””
Mom pressed her palms against the table.
“So someone has been using our names for years.””
“That is one possibility,” Catherine replied.
“The other is that someone created fraudulent records to make legitimate transactions appear authorized. Either way, we need the original documents and independent verification from the lender.””
I pulled out my father's notebook.
“There's a transfer recorded on the day he died. Almost eight hundred thousand dollars. He wrote that Richard knew what happened.””
Catherine examined the page carefully.
“Did your father ever tell you why he was investigating Richard?””
“No,” Mom said.
“He told me there was something wrong with their business, but he didn't explain the details. He was afraid.””
Catherine looked up.
“Did he mention a particular account or transaction?””
Mom closed her eyes.
Then she whispered, “He said Richard had stolen money from people who trusted him.””
I sat perfectly still.
Catherine turned another page.
“There's something else. I found a reference to an internal complaint filed by Daniel Bennett shortly before his death. It was never resolved. The complaint concerned unauthorized loans and falsified guarantees.””
“Can we get a copy?”” I asked.
“I'm requesting it now.””
My phone vibrated.
A text from an unknown number appeared on the screen.
If you want the truth about your father, come to the old Northstar office at four. Come alone.
I showed Catherine.
She immediately shook her head.
“No.””
“But someone may know what happened.””
“Someone may be trying to lure you into a situation where they can intimidate you or destroy evidence.””
Mom reached for my wrist.
“You're not going anywhere alone.””
“I won't,” I promised.
Catherine took a photograph of the message and saved it with the other evidence.
“We'll contact the authorities and arrange a safe way to verify the location.””
At four that afternoon, I sat in Catherine's car across the street from the old Northstar building.
The company sign had been removed years earlier. Brown paper covered several windows, and weeds pushed through cracks in the parking lot.
Two investigators were waiting nearby.
I wasn't going inside.
I wasn't even getting out of the car.
Then a man emerged from a side entrance carrying a cardboard archive box.
He looked older than the man in Dad's photograph, with a broad face, graying hair, and a noticeable limp.
But I recognized him immediately.
Richard Hale.
Marcus's father.
He walked toward a black sedan parked at the far end of the lot.
One investigator stepped out of a nearby vehicle and approached him.
“Mr. Hale?””
Richard stopped.
His eyes moved toward the street.
For one terrifying second, I thought he would run.
Instead, he set the box on the hood of the sedan.
“I wondered how long it would take you to find me,” he said.
The investigators identified themselves and asked him to answer questions about Northstar Holdings and the suspected fraudulent loans.
Richard looked directly toward Catherine's car.
Then his gaze met mine through the windshield.
His face changed.
“Daniel's daughter,” he said.
I opened the car door, but Catherine caught my arm.
“Stay here until the investigators say it's safe.””
Richard gave a short, humorless laugh.
“You look just like him.””
I stepped out only after the investigator signaled that I could approach.
“Did you know my father was investigating you?””
Richard stared at me.
“He was my business partner. Of course I knew.””
“Did you use his name to borrow money?””
“I never forged Daniel's signature.””
“Then why were loans issued under his name after he died?””
He looked down at the archive box.
“Because someone had access to the accounts.””
“Who?””
Richard's expression hardened.
“You should ask your fiancé.””
I felt the ground shift beneath me.
“Marcus?””
Richard nodded.
“My son learned more about the business than I ever intended him to know. When I tried to stop him, he told me the operation had grown beyond my control.””
“Are you saying Marcus forged the documents?””
“I'm saying he had access to them.””
“That isn't an answer.””
Richard looked at me with an expression that might have been guilt.
“Daniel discovered that money was being diverted through Northstar. He planned to report it. The night before he died, he called me and told me he had evidence.””
My voice shook.
“What happened to him?””
Richard looked away.
“I don't know whether his death was natural. I wasn't there.””
“But you knew he was afraid.””
“Yes.””
“And you did nothing?””
His shoulders sagged.
“I was afraid, too.””
I stared at him in disbelief.
“You let my mother spend eleven years wondering why my father died, while you hid from the truth?””
“I made mistakes.””
“You let your son continue whatever this is.””
Richard's eyes filled with tears.
“I tried to stop him.””
“Then prove it.””
He looked at the investigators.
“I have records that could explain the money transfers. But I want legal protection before I hand them over.””
One investigator replied, “You'll need to cooperate fully and speak through your attorney.””
Richard nodded slowly.
Then he turned back to me.
“There is one thing you should know. Marcus wasn't the only person who wanted your father's property.””
My skin prickled.
“Who else?””
Richard opened the archive box.
Inside were old account statements, corporate letters, and a sealed envelope bearing my father's handwriting.
Richard lifted it carefully.
“Daniel gave me this the week he died. I never opened it because I was afraid of what it might contain.””
He handed it to the investigator, who photographed the envelope before opening it.
Inside was a single sheet of paper.
At the top, my father had written:
If anything happens to me, the person responsible may be someone I love.
Below that sentence was a name.
Not Richard Hale.
Not Marcus Hale.
My mother.
Evelyn Bennett.
I stared at the paper, unable to understand what I was seeing.
“That can't be right.””
Richard looked at me.
“Your father believed someone close to him was helping move the money. He never told me who he suspected.””
I shook my head.
“My mother would never do that.””
“I hope you're right,” Richard said quietly.
The investigator folded the paper and placed it inside an evidence envelope.
As Catherine guided me back toward the car, my phone rang.
Mom's name appeared on the screen.
I answered immediately.
“Mom?””
Her voice was shaking.
“Nia, you need to come home.””
“What happened?””
She took a breath.
“Someone has been in your father's study.””
My blood ran cold.
“What do you mean?””
“The desk is open. His old papers are everywhere.””
I gripped the phone.
“Mom, lock the doors. Don't touch anything.””
Then she whispered the words that made my heart stop.
“And sweetheart, the person who came here left something on your pillow.””
“What?””
“A photograph of you.””
May you like
A pause.
“Taken this morning, outside the Northstar building.””
