Chapter 7: The Letter
The paper trembled in Derrick's hand.
I couldn't take my eyes off it.
My father's handwriting was unmistakable.
I had boxes of his old letters in the attic. Birthday cards. Christmas notes. A short message he'd left on the refrigerator the week before he died.
The same sharp M.
The same cramped lowercase letters.
The same habit of pressing harder on the downstroke of every sentence.
My father had written that letter.
And somehow, Derrick had it.
I reached for it.
“Where did you get this?”” I asked.
Derrick didn't answer immediately.
Helen stepped forward.
“Marcus, don't.””
I looked at her.
“You don't get to tell me what to do anymore.””
She stopped.
Derrick held out the letter.
“Your father gave it to someone before he died.””
“Who?””
“My uncle.””
I frowned.
“Your uncle?””
“He was a security contractor. He worked with your father.””
I took the letter.
The paper was yellowed around the edges.
The fold lines were soft from being opened and closed.
My thumb moved over my father's name.
Then I unfolded it.
The first line hit me exactly as Derrick had promised.
*Marcus, if you're reading this, don't trust your wife.*
My eyes moved lower.
*I need you to understand something before you believe what anyone tells you. Your mother-in-law is dangerous, but she isn't the person who should frighten you most.*
I stopped.
Vanessa whispered, “Marcus…”
I kept reading.
*Three years ago, I discovered that money was being moved from the company into accounts I couldn't trace. Helen was involved, but she wasn't working alone.*
I looked up.
Helen had gone completely still.
Simone watched her.
I returned to the letter.
*I confronted Helen. She denied everything. The next morning, I discovered that someone had accessed my private files. I knew then that I was being watched.*
My fingers tightened around the paper.
**Vanessa came to me that night. She was crying. She said she wanted to tell me something about her mother.
Before she could, someone called her. She left.**
I looked at my wife.
She was staring at the floor.
The next paragraph was shorter.
*If anything happens to me, ask Vanessa why she left that night. Ask her what she was carrying.*
I lowered the letter.
“Vanessa.””
She didn't answer.
“What were you carrying?””
Her shoulders shook.
“I don't remember.””
“Don't lie to me.””
“I was scared.””
“Of what?””
She looked at Helen.
Helen said quietly, “Vanessa was a child.””
“She was thirty-two.””
“She was my daughter.””
“And my father was your victim.””
Helen's expression hardened.
“You have no proof.””
I held up the letter.
“This is proof that he suspected you.””
“Suspicion isn't proof.””
Simone stepped closer.
“There's more.””
She took another envelope from her bag.
Helen's face changed.
“Where did you get that?””
Simone smiled without humor.
“Your mistake was believing everyone you paid was loyal.””
She opened the envelope.
Inside were photocopies of bank statements.
Names.
Account numbers.
Transfer records.
Dates.
Amounts.
I scanned the pages.
The same shell companies I'd investigated years ago.
But there was something I hadn't seen before.
A transfer made two days before my father's death.
The recipient name was Vanessa.
I stared at it.
“No.””
Vanessa closed her eyes.
I looked at her.
“This account is yours.””
“Yes.””
“You received this money.””
“Yes.””
“How much?””
“Fifty thousand.””
The number hung in the air.
“Why?””
Vanessa wiped her cheek.
“My mother gave it to me.””
“For what?””
“To leave.””
I looked at Helen.
She said nothing.
“You paid Vanessa to leave me?””
“No.””
Vanessa shook her head.
“She wanted me gone because Dad was asking questions.””
I looked at her.
“Why didn't you leave?””
“Because I couldn't.””
“Why?””
“Because I loved you.””
I almost laughed.
“You loved me while taking money from my father's killer?””
“I didn't know she killed him.””
“You knew enough.””
“I knew my mother was stealing.””
“You knew she was dangerous.””
“Yes.””
“You knew she wanted me gone.””
“Yes.””
“And you stayed.””
Vanessa's voice broke.
“I was trying to protect you.””
“You've said that all night.””
“Because it's true!””
I stepped closer.
“Then tell me the truth.””
She stared at me.
“The whole truth.””
She looked toward Simone.
Simone nodded.
Vanessa finally spoke.
“Three years ago, Dad discovered Mom's accounts.””
I said nothing.
“She told me she would handle it. I believed her.””
“Then what?””
“She gave me the fifty thousand dollars and told me to disappear.””
“Why?””
“Because she said you were going to expose everything.””
“And my father?””
“She said Dad was going to destroy all of us.””
“Did she tell you she was going to kill him?””
Vanessa's face crumpled.
“No.””
I waited.
“Did you know he was going to die?””
“No.””
“Did you suspect?””
A long silence.
Then:
“Yes.””
The word barely left her mouth.
My chest tightened.
“What did you see?””
Vanessa looked at the floor.
“Mom came home that night with blood on her sleeve.””
Helen's head snapped toward her.
“Vanessa.””
“I saw it.””
“You were hysterical.””
“I saw it!””
Helen stepped forward.
“You don't know what you're saying.””
“I saw Dad's watch in your purse!””
Helen went pale.
Simone covered her mouth.
I stared at Helen.
“My father's watch?””
Helen said nothing.
“Where is it?””
“I don't have it.””
Vanessa whispered, “You gave it to me.””
Helen looked at her daughter.
“What?””
“You gave me Dad's watch the next morning.””
Helen's face hardened.
“I don't remember.””
“I kept it.””
Vanessa reached into her purse.
She pulled out a small velvet box.
My breathing stopped.
She opened it.
Inside was my father's watch.
The cracked leather strap.
The tiny scratch across the face.
I had searched for that watch after his funeral.
Helen told me he'd been buried with it.
I reached for it.
Vanessa placed it in my palm.
My fingers closed around the cold metal.
“You lied,” I whispered.
“I was afraid.””
“You lied about his watch.””
“Yes.””
“You lied about Simone.””
“Yes.””
“You lied about Derrick.””
“Yes.””
“And you lied about the hospital.””
Vanessa nodded.
Tears rolled down her face.
“Yes.””
I looked at her.
“Why should I believe anything you say now?””
She had no answer.
Then Helen spoke.
“Because Vanessa didn't kill your father.””
I looked at her.
Helen's voice was quiet.
“She wasn't the one who ordered the accident.””
Simone stepped forward.
“Mom.””
Helen looked at me.
“I did.””
The restaurant seemed to disappear.
I heard Vanessa gasp.
Derrick whispered, “Helen…”
Helen didn't look at either of them.
“I ordered the brakes cut.””
I stared at her.
“And my father?””
“I didn't kill him.””
“You were there.””
“Yes.””
“You had blood on your sleeve.””
Helen closed her eyes.
“He attacked me.””
I looked at Vanessa.
She was shaking.
“What happened?””
Helen opened her eyes.
“Your father tried to shoot me.””
Simone shook her head.
“He didn't own a gun.””
“He did that night.””
“You're lying.””
Helen reached into her handbag.
She removed a photograph.
She placed it on the table.
It showed my father standing in his garage.
A gun was on the floor beside him.
His body wasn't visible.
But there was something else in the photograph.
A second person.
A shadow reflected in the car window.
I leaned closer.
I recognized the shape of the person immediately.
It was someone I had never suspected.
Someone who had been helping Helen.
Someone who had been present the night my father died.
I looked at Derrick.
He was staring at the photograph.
Then he whispered:
“That isn't possible.””
I turned toward him.
“Why?””
May you like
He pointed to the shadow.
“Because that's my uncle.””