Chapter 8: The Uncle Who Knew Too Much
Dad called Gregory back.
No answer.
He tried again.
Voicemail.
Then he sent a message.
Call me immediately.
I stood beside the couch.
"Why does Uncle Greg want me away from Evelyn?""
Dad shook his head.
"I don't know.""
"Why did he say Mom did something?""
"I don't know, Amara.""
He sounded angry now.
But not at me.
At himself.
He paced across the living room.
"Greg helped me after Renee died. He handled paperwork, spoke to people, and told me which forms needed signatures.""
I frowned.
"Did he tell you to sign Mom's papers?""
Dad stopped.
"Some of them.""
"Did he tell you what they were?""
"Yes.""
I waited.
Dad looked down.
"He said they were necessary.""
I stared at him.
"That's not the same thing.""
He closed his eyes.
"No. It isn't.""
The following morning, Evelyn returned with a colleague who specialized in financial investigations.
She listened to Dad's account of Gregory's involvement.
Then she asked several questions.
"Did your brother have access to your identification documents?""
"Yes.""
"Did he prepare tax filings for you?""
"Sometimes.""
"Did he know about the trust?""
Dad nodded.
"He was at the funeral. Renee had discussed some of her estate plans with him.""
Evelyn wrote something down.
"Did he ever ask you to transfer money?""
Dad hesitated.
"Not directly.""
"Did he recommend any financial arrangements?""
"Yes. He said I should consolidate some accounts.""
Evelyn looked up.
"When?""
"About three months after Renee died.""
I remembered the date.
That was around the time Vanella had started removing Mom's things.
Evelyn placed her pen down.
"Mr. Brooks, I need you to understand that we are not making accusations based on suspicion alone. But your brother's involvement needs to be examined.""
Dad nodded.
"I understand.""
I sat across from them.
"Can I ask something?""
Evelyn smiled.
"Of course.""
"Could Uncle Greg have taken Mom's money?""
The financial investigator answered.
"It's possible that he participated in transactions. We need records to determine whether he did.""
I looked at Dad.
"Would you know if he did?""
Dad shook his head.
"Apparently, I wouldn't.""
At noon, Evelyn received a call.
She listened without speaking.
Then she turned toward Dad.
"The bank has confirmed that the original account was accessed using credentials linked to your brother's office.""
Dad stood.
"Greg's office?""
"Yes.""
"That doesn't mean he took anything.""
"No. It doesn't.""
Evelyn ended the call.
Then she explained that the investigators had identified multiple transfers involving a company registered at Gregory's business address.
Dad walked to the window.
"Why would my brother do this?""
Nobody answered.
I thought about my mother.
She had known Gregory for almost twenty years.
He used to bring me birthday presents.
He taught me how to ride a bicycle.
He had stood beside Dad at Mom's funeral.
The idea that he might have been involved made my stomach hurt.
Then I remembered something.
"Mom had a picture of Uncle Greg.""
Evelyn looked at me.
"Where?""
"In her sewing cabinet. There was a photograph of Mom, Dad, and Uncle Greg at a barbecue.""
Dad nodded.
"That was years ago.""
I shook my head.
"No. There was something written on the back.""
I closed my eyes, trying to remember.
"Mom wrote, 'The people closest to you should never be the ones you fear.''"
Dad stared at me.
"Are you sure?""
I nodded.
He sat down.
Evelyn exchanged a glance with her colleague.
Then she said, "I'd like to see that photograph if we can locate it.""
That afternoon, Dad received another call.
This time, Gregory didn't hide his number.
Dad answered.
"Where are you?""
"Marcus, calm down.""
"Where are you?""
"At the office.""
"I want to see you.""
A pause.
"Fine. Come over.""
Dad ended the call.
Evelyn immediately advised him not to meet Gregory alone or confront him without proper precautions.
Dad agreed to communicate through the investigators.
But Gregory sent another message.
Bring the blue folder. We need to settle this before Vanella makes things worse.
Dad showed Evelyn.
She read it twice.
"Do not respond.""
Dad looked at her.
"He knows about the folder.""
"Yes.""
"How?""
Evelyn's expression was serious.
"That is exactly what we need to establish.""
At 4:15 p.m., the doorbell rang.
Dad looked toward the hallway.
Evelyn's colleague checked the security camera.
A man stood on the porch wearing a charcoal coat.
Gregory Hale.
Dad opened the door but didn't step aside.
"Greg.""
His older brother gave a tight smile.
"Marcus.""
He looked past him.
Then his eyes found me.
"Well, there's my favorite niece.""
I didn't move.
He held out a small gift bag.
"I brought you something.""
I looked at the bag.
"What is it?""
"Chocolate.""
I shook my head.
Gregory's smile faded slightly.
"Still upset with your uncle?""
Dad stepped forward.
"Why are you here?""
Gregory adjusted his coat.
"To help.""
Evelyn appeared behind Dad.
"Mr. Hale.""
Gregory's face changed.
"Ms. Price.""
She nodded.
"Come inside. We have some questions.""
He laughed.
"About what?""
"The trust.""
Gregory looked toward the living room.
Then back at Dad.
"Marcus, can we speak privately?""
"No.""
Gregory blinked.
"No?""
"You heard me.""
His brother exhaled.
"You're making a mistake.""
Dad's voice was low.
"Did you help Vanella take money from Amara's account?""
Gregory's expression didn't change.
"That's a serious accusation.""
"Answer the question.""
"I helped you organize your finances after Renee died.""
"Did you access the account?""
Gregory glanced at Evelyn.
"Under legal authorization.""
"Whose authorization?""
"Yours.""
Dad stared at him.
"I never gave you permission to take Amara's money.""
Gregory sighed.
"Marcus, you were grieving. Someone had to handle things.""
Dad's hands tightened.
"That wasn't your decision.""
Gregory looked at me.
"Amara, sweetheart, your father is upset. Adults sometimes make financial decisions that children don't understand.""
I stepped closer to Dad.
"Mom said the money was for me.""
Gregory's face hardened.
"Your mother was very emotional.""
Evelyn immediately interrupted.
"That's enough.""
Gregory turned toward her.
"You're twisting this.""
"Then provide the records.""
He laughed.
"You think you can intimidate me with a folder?""
Evelyn remained calm.
"No. I think the records will speak for themselves.""
Gregory looked at Dad.
"Vanella told me you were going to cooperate.""
Dad frowned.
"What?""
Gregory realized what he had said.
He looked toward the door.
Dad stepped in front of him.
"Why did Vanella tell you I was cooperating?""
Gregory said nothing.
Dad continued.
"What were you two planning?""
Gregory shook his head.
"You need to understand something. Renee made this unnecessarily complicated.""
My father went completely still.
"What did you say?""
"She didn't trust anyone. She wanted everything locked up in that ridiculous trust.""
"She was protecting her daughter.""
Gregory laughed.
"She was protecting money.""
I felt something rise inside me.
I stepped forward.
"My mother wasn't greedy.""
Gregory looked down at me.
"Go upstairs.""
"No.""
His eyebrows lifted.
I looked directly at him.
"She worked hard for everything she had. You don't get to talk about her like that.""
For a moment, nobody spoke.
Then Gregory turned to Dad.
"See? This is what happens when you let a child get involved.""
Dad moved between us.
"Don't speak to her that way.""
Gregory stared at his younger brother.
Then he smiled.
"You're going to regret this.""
He reached into his coat.
Evelyn's colleague immediately stood.
"Please keep your hands visible.""
Gregory froze.
He slowly removed a folded document.
"I brought something.""
He placed it on the table.
Dad examined the heading.
It was a copy of a transfer agreement.
Our house.
The date was from three weeks earlier.
Dad looked up.
"What's this?""
Gregory gave a small shrug.
"The next step.""
Evelyn took the document.
She examined the signature.
Then her expression changed.
"Where did you get this?""
Gregory didn't answer.
Dad looked at the page.
"That's not my signature.""
Gregory smiled.
"Are you sure?""
Dad pointed to the bottom.
"Look at the date. I was out of state.""
Evelyn turned the page over.
There was a witness signature.
I recognized the name.
Vanella Brooks.
Gregory watched our faces.
Then he said something that made Dad step backward.
"Vanella didn't forge your signature, Marcus.""
Dad stared.
"What?""
Gregory leaned forward.
"You gave me permission to sign on your behalf.""
Dad shook his head.
"Never.""
Gregory reached into his pocket again and pulled out a small folded sheet.
"Then perhaps you should remember what you signed after Renee's funeral.""
He placed it on the table.
Dad looked at the paper.
His expression slowly collapsed.
It was a power-of-attorney document.
And his signature was real.
After Gregory left under the investigators' instructions, nobody spoke for several minutes.
Dad held the document in both hands.
"I don't remember signing this.""
Evelyn examined the date.
"Was this presented to you with other estate paperwork?""
Dad nodded slowly.
"Greg said it was a temporary authorization so he could handle some bills.""
Evelyn pointed to a paragraph.
"This gives him broad authority over certain financial and property matters.""
Dad sat down.
"He told me it was only for the funeral arrangements.""
Evelyn looked at him.
"Then we need to establish whether the document was misrepresented to you.""
I looked at the paper.
"Can he take our house?""
Evelyn answered carefully.
"He cannot simply do whatever he wants. The trust and the property records provide important protections. We are taking steps to prevent any further unauthorized changes.""
Dad stared at his brother's signature.
Then he whispered:
"Greg was at the hospital before Renee died.""
I looked at him.
"What?""
Dad swallowed.
"He told me he came to check on her. I thought he had only stayed a few minutes.""
Evelyn leaned forward.
"Do you know what time?""
Dad shook his head.
"No.""
I remembered the recording.
The broken glass.
The thud.
Vanella's voice.
And now Gregory.
I looked at Evelyn.
"Could Uncle Greg have been there when Mom collapsed?""
She didn't answer immediately.
Then she said:
"That's a question the investigation needs to answer.""
That night, I was finally allowed to sleep in the guest bedroom under the supervision of the adults coordinating my care.
For the first time in weeks, there was a proper heater.
A clean blanket.
A door that wasn't locked from the outside.
But I couldn't sleep.
At 11:38 p.m., my phone rang.
Mrs. Carter had helped arrange a temporary phone for me.
The number was unknown.
I answered cautiously.
"Hello?""
A woman's voice whispered.
"Amara?""
"Who is this?""
"My name is Denise. I used to work for your uncle.""
I sat upright.
"How do you know me?""
"I knew your mother.""
I gripped the phone.
"What do you want?""
The woman took a shaky breath.
"I've been trying to reach someone for months. I saw the news about the investigation.""
"What news?""
"Your uncle's business is being examined. And I think I know why your mother was so frightened.""
I looked toward the bedroom door.
"What happened?""
Denise lowered her voice.
"Your mother didn't just discover the money transfers.""
I stopped breathing.
"What else?""
"She discovered that Gregory had been keeping something from your father.""
"What?""
There was a pause.
Then Denise said:
"Your uncle was in the hospital the day your mother collapsed.""
My fingers went cold.
"Was he with Vanella?""
"Yes.""
I looked at the clock.
"Why didn't anyone tell Dad?""
"Because I think they both agreed to keep it secret.""
My throat tightened.
"Do you have proof?""
Denise exhaled.
"I have something your mother sent me the night before she died.""
I swallowed.
"What?""
"A photograph.""
"Of what?""
Denise whispered:
"Vanella and Gregory leaving the hospital together.""
Then the call disconnected.
I stared at the phone.
A message appeared seconds later.
An image attachment.
I opened it.
The photograph showed the hospital entrance.
Vanella was standing beside a black SUV.
Gregory was holding a brown envelope.
But there was something else in the background.
A man standing near the hospital doors.
My father.
He was holding my mother's handbag.
May you like
And on the back of the photograph, visible through a reflection in the glass, was a handwritten message:
*MARCUS KNOWS MORE THAN HE REMEMBERS.*
