Chapter 7
Brooks had not been shot.
The bullet hit the side mirror of a police SUV three feet from her.
Officers dragged us behind the vehicle as more shots came from the woods.
Dad pushed himself over me.
Mom covered my head.
For several terrifying seconds, my parents were both protecting me at the same time.
“Stay down!”
Police rushed toward the tree line.
An engine disappeared into the distance.
Then silence.
Brooks stood.
“Everyone okay?”
Mom nodded.
Dad did too.
I looked toward the road.
“Who was that?”
Dad stared at the black notebook.
“I think I know.”
“Who?”
He looked at Mom.
She went pale.
“No.”
“What?” I demanded.
Dad exhaled.
“Your aunt Rebecca.”
I stared at him.
Mom’s older sister.
Aunt Rebecca.
The woman who sent me birthday cards every year.
The woman who brought food when Uncle Daniel died.
The woman who sat beside Mom at the funeral.
“That’s impossible.”
Dad shook his head.
“I wish it was.”
Mom backed away.
“Michael, you have no proof.”
“I saw her.”
“Where?”
“When they took me.”
Mom stopped.
Dad continued.
“She never came inside the room, but I saw her through the doorway.”
“Maybe she was a prisoner.”
“She gave them instructions.”
My stomach turned.
Aunt Rebecca lived forty minutes away.
She worked as a financial consultant.
She had always been the successful one in Mom’s family.
Daniel ran a company.
Mom taught elementary school.
Rebecca managed money for wealthy clients.
“Why would she help Grant?”
Dad looked at the ledger.
“Because she was in it from the beginning.”
Mom shook her head.
“No.”
“Sarah.”
“She hated Grant.”
“She hated getting caught.”
Mom stared at him.
Brooks opened the false ledger.
Most pages were blank.
Only one had writing.
She read it.
Then looked at Mom.
“What does it say?”
Brooks turned the page toward us.
Sarah should have stayed quiet.
Mom sank onto the bumper.
I stood beside her.
Aunt Rebecca.
Suddenly memories felt different.
Her asking whether Mom still kept Daniel’s old papers.
Her warning Mom not to “obsess over the past.”
Her telling me Grant seemed “charming” when Mom first introduced him.
Had she known?
Had she helped bring him back into our lives?
Dad sat beside Mom.
“She handled some of Grant’s shell accounts.”
Mom looked sick.
“Daniel suspected someone in the family was helping him.”
“And you knew?”
“I suspected.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
Dad gave a bitter laugh.
“Apparently keeping secrets became our family tradition.”
Mom looked down.
Nobody argued.
Brooks crouched in front of them.
“Where is the real ledger?”
Dad hesitated.
“That depends.”
“On what?”
“Whether Rebecca knows where I moved it.”
“You still have it?”
“Yes.”
“Where?”
He looked at me.
“No.”
I blinked.
“What?”
“I’m not saying it in front of Caleb.”
Anger sparked.
“Seriously?”
“I’ve missed eight years of being your father.”
Dad’s voice shook.
“I’m not starting again by putting a target on you.”
“I already have a target.”
“That doesn’t mean I paint it brighter.”
Brooks stood.
“He’s right.”
I hated that.
Dad told Brooks privately.
An hour later, officers recovered the real ledger from a bus-station locker.
It was blue.
Exactly as Dad had said.
Brooks photographed every page.
The contents were worse than anyone expected.
Grant’s name appeared hundreds of times.
So did Rebecca’s.
Payments.
Bribes.
Insurance fraud.
False invoices.
The names of city inspectors.
A former prosecutor.
Two bankers.
And one police officer who had retired years ago.
The network was bigger than Grant.
Bigger than our family.
I looked at Mom.
“This is why nobody stopped him.”
Brooks nodded.
“People tried.”
“They got bought?”
“Some.”
“Threatened?”
“Others.”
Mom whispered, “Daniel died.”
Nobody spoke.
Then Brooks pointed to one page.
A payment to Rebecca dated two days before Daniel’s crash.
Mom covered her mouth.
Dad looked away.
The note beside the payment read:
D problem resolved.
I watched my mother’s face collapse.
“That doesn’t prove she knew he would die.”
“No,” Brooks said.
“But it’s enough to investigate.”
Mom stood suddenly.
“I want to call her.”
“No.”
“I need to hear her voice.”
“Sarah—”
“She is my sister.”
Brooks considered it.
Then nodded.
“We record everything.”
Mom called.
Rebecca answered on the second ring.
“Sarah?”
She sounded worried.
Normal.
That was the worst part.
“Where are you?”
“At home. Why?”
Mom’s hands trembled.
“Grant was arrested.”
A pause.
“Oh my God.”
“You didn’t know?”
“No.”
“You haven’t seen the news?”
“I’ve been working.”
Brooks wrote a question for Mom.
Mom swallowed.
“Michael came back.”
Long silence.
Then Rebecca said, “Michael?”
Dad’s eyes narrowed.
Mom continued.
“He had Daniel’s ledger.”
The line went completely quiet.
Then Rebecca asked, too carefully, “What ledger?”
Mom started crying.
“You know exactly what ledger.”
“Sarah, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Daniel wrote your name.”
Rebecca’s breathing changed.
Mom pressed on.
“Two days before he died.”
“Sarah.”
“What did you do?”
“Listen to me.”
“What did you do?”
Rebecca’s voice hardened.
For the first time, she stopped sounding like my aunt.
“You need to stop digging.”
Mom closed her eyes.
There it was.
Brooks signaled to keep her talking.
Mom whispered, “Did you help Grant kill Daniel?”
“No.”
Relief flashed across Mom’s face too soon.
Then Rebecca added, “I only told Grant what Daniel knew.”
Mom broke.
A sob escaped her.
Dad caught her shoulders.
Rebecca continued.
“I didn’t know what Grant would do.”
“You took money.”
“I was in debt.”
“You took money after Daniel died!”
“I was trapped!”
“You helped him!”
“He threatened me too!”
Mom screamed into the phone.
“He was our brother!”
Rebecca started crying.
“I know.”
“No, you don’t.”
“I made one mistake.”
“One?”
Mom looked at the ledger.
“There are years of payments.”
Rebecca went silent.
Then she said something that destroyed any sympathy left in the room.
“If Daniel had minded his own business, none of this would have happened.”
Mom stared at the phone.
Dad closed his eyes.
I felt sick.
Brooks quietly motioned to officers.
They were already preparing to arrest Rebecca.
Mom whispered, “Where are you?”
“At home.”
Brooks signaled.
Officers moved.
Then Rebecca laughed softly.
“You think I don’t know Lena is there?”
Brooks froze.
The call disconnected.
I looked at her.
“How did she know?”
Brooks’s face tightened.
Then every phone in the room buzzed at once.
Emergency alert.
A fire.
Residential address.
Maya’s street.
My street.
I grabbed Mom’s arm.
“No.”
Brooks pulled up the dispatch information.
My house.
Flames visible.
Possible occupant trapped.
Mom stared at the screen.
“Who is inside?”
My phone rang.
Maya.
I answered.
She was coughing.
“Caleb!”
“Maya?”
“Someone locked me in your basement.”
My blood turned cold.
Smoke alarms screamed behind her.
May you like
“Help me!”
Then the call went dead.
