Chapter 5 - The Man Watching My Parents
I didn’t remember driving to my parents’ house.
I remembered Vanessa begging me to slow down.
I remembered calling Dad twice.
No answer.
Then three times.
Still nothing.
By the time we reached their street, my hands were locked around the steering wheel.
The Toyota was exactly where the photograph showed it.
My father opened the front door before I reached the porch.
“Marcus?”
I grabbed him.
Dad laughed in confusion.
“What happened?”
“Where’s Mom?”
“In the kitchen.”
I pushed inside.
Mom looked up from the counter.
“Marcus? Vanessa?”
Relief nearly knocked me down.
They were fine.
Vanessa entered behind me.
She looked shaken.
Dad noticed.
“What’s going on?”
I showed him the photograph.
His smile disappeared.
“Who took this?”
“I don’t know.”
“You mean someone was outside my house?”
“Yes.”
Mom sat down.
“What kind of trouble is this?”
I looked at Vanessa.
She lowered her eyes.
Dad saw it.
“This has something to do with your family?”
Vanessa whispered, “Yes.”
Dad locked the front door.
Then he turned to me.
“Talk.”
So I did.
Not every detail.
Not yet.
But enough.
Leonard’s debt.
The forged documents.
The blackmail.
Vanessa’s secret payments.
The money stolen from the plantation account.
Dad listened without interrupting.
Mom cried silently.
When I finally told him his signature had been forged, Dad went completely still.
“Leonard used my name?”
“Yes.”
“How long have they known?”
I looked toward Vanessa.
Dad followed my eyes.
Her voice shook.
“I found out last week.”
He stared at her.
“And Marcus?”
“Tonight.”
Dad nodded slowly.
I could see the hurt on his face.
Not anger.
Hurt.
He had loved Vanessa.
Treated her as a daughter.
“Why didn’t you tell us?”
“I was scared.”
“Of what?”
“That everything would fall apart.”
Dad looked at me.
Then back at her.
“And hiding it prevented that?”
Vanessa started crying.
“No.”
Mom spoke for the first time.
“Did your mother know?”
Vanessa hesitated.
“Yes.”
Mom closed her eyes.
That hurt her too.
The two women had shared holidays for twelve years.
Birthdays.
Caleb’s school events.
Sunday lunches.
All while Cynthia knew her dead husband had used Dad’s identity.
My phone rang.
A number I didn’t recognize.
Everyone stared at it.
I answered.
“Marcus Grant?”
A man’s voice.
“Who is this?”
“You know.”
“Raymond?”
Vanessa gasped.
The voice chuckled.
“So Derek finally told you.”
“Why are you watching my parents?”
“To make sure you understand that this isn’t a paperwork problem.”
My blood ran cold.
“If you go near them—”
“Threats are emotional, Marcus. I prefer numbers.”
“What do you want?”
“One hundred and eighty thousand.”
Vanessa covered her mouth.
“For a debt my father-in-law created using forged documents?”
“I don’t care who created it.”
“You should.”
“Leonard owed me.”
“Leonard is dead.”
“The family isn’t.”
I clenched my jaw.
“You stole seventy-three thousand from Vanessa’s account.”
Raymond laughed.
“Stole?”
“Yes.”
“She gave me everything I needed.”
Vanessa shook her head.
“I never authorized that!”
He heard her.
“Hello, Vanessa.”
She went pale.
“You promised the sixty thousand would settle it.”
“I promised nothing.”
“You said—”
“You heard what you needed to hear.”
I took the phone off speaker.
“What do you actually have?”
“Enough.”
“Forged loan documents won’t survive court.”
“Court isn’t what Cynthia fears.”
I looked at my mother-in-law’s name written in my notes.
“What else?”
“Ask her about the Lakeshore property.”
The call disconnected.
Vanessa stared at me.
“What did he say?”
“Lakeshore property.”
Her expression was blank.
Dad frowned.
“Whose property?”
“I don’t know.”
Mom suddenly whispered, “I do.”
We all turned.
Dad looked shocked.
“What?”
Mom’s face had gone pale.
“Years ago, Leonard tried to buy land near Lake Geneva.”
Dad stared at her.
“How do you know that?”
“He asked me for money.”
The room went silent.
My mother had never told us.
“When?”
“About fourteen years ago.”
“Before my wedding?”
She nodded.
“He called me privately.”
Dad’s expression changed.
“You never mentioned this.”
“I said no.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because I thought Leonard was embarrassed.”
I crouched beside her.
“What exactly did he say?”
Mom closed her eyes, remembering.
“He said he had an investment opportunity and needed twenty-five thousand quickly.”
“Did he mention Lakeshore?”
“Yes.”
I felt something click.
“Did you sign anything?”
“No.”
“Give him personal information?”
She shook her head.
Then stopped.
“What?”
“He asked for a copy of an old property tax form.”
Dad stared at her.
“Why?”
“He claimed his accountant wanted an example of how county assessments worked.”
Dad stood abruptly.
“Oh, God.”
I looked between them.
“What?”
Dad walked toward a cabinet.
He pulled out an old file box.
After several minutes, he found a folder.
“Your mother and I owned a vacant lot near Lake Geneva years ago.”
I remembered vaguely.
“We sold it.”
“Yes.”
“When?”
“About eleven years ago.”
Vanessa whispered, “After Leonard borrowed the money.”
Dad nodded.
“I never thought the two things were connected.”
I felt sick.
“Could Leonard have used information from that tax form to create paperwork against the lot?”
Dad looked at me.
“Yes.”
We called my attorney, Nathan Cole, despite the late hour.
I sent him photographs of every document Derek had given me.
Nathan called back thirty minutes later.
His tone was serious.
“Marcus, do not pay Raymond anything.”
“I wasn’t planning to.”
“I’m finding at least three forged signatures.”
“Three?”
“Your father’s, your uncle Peter’s, and possibly your mother’s.”
Mom gasped.
Nathan continued.
“There are property references here that suggest Leonard may have pledged assets he never owned.”
“What do we do?”
“Police. Financial crimes unit. Tomorrow.”
Dad spoke loudly enough for Nathan to hear.
“Tonight.”
Nathan paused.
“Richard?”
“Yes.”
“They’re photographing my house.”
Nathan’s tone changed immediately.
“Call police now.”
We did.
Two officers arrived.
Then detectives.
The picture of the Toyota suddenly became useful.
A neighbor’s door camera had captured a dark SUV slowing in front of my parents’ house.
The license plate was visible.
Police traced it.
Not to Raymond.
To Derek.
Vanessa stared at the detective.
“That’s impossible.”
The detective turned his laptop.
The registration showed Derek Coleman.
I looked at my wife.
Then at the man who had supposedly been blackmailed alongside her.
Vanessa whispered, “Why would Derek be watching your parents?”
I thought about the bruise on his face.
The carefully timed revelations.
The missing money.
Then my phone buzzed.
A text from Derek.
Don’t trust Raymond.
May you like
A second message arrived before I could answer.
And don’t trust Mom.
