Chapter 5
I read Nia's note six times.
Someone had been coming to our house.
Not a stranger.
Not someone hiding in a distant office.
Someone who had sat at our table.
Someone who had looked me in the eyes.
Someone who knew where we lived.
I immediately checked the locks.
Then I stood in the hallway, listening to the silence.
Nothing moved.
But the house no longer felt safe.
I called Detective Brooks.
She asked me not to disturb the note further.
An officer collected it later that morning.
I gave them the names of everyone who had visited our home over the previous month.
Daniel.
Evelyn.
Caleb.
Our accountant, Thomas Grant.
Nia's assistant, Simone Carter.
And a few close friends.
I hated writing those names.
These were people we trusted.
People who had eaten dinner with us.
Celebrated birthdays.
Shared laughter.
Now one of them might have helped put Nia in a coffin.
At the hospital, Nia was sitting upright for the first time.
Her doctor said she was recovering well.
The sedating substance found during testing was consistent with what she remembered, although the investigators still needed to establish exactly how it had been administered.
She smiled when she saw me.
"Hey, handsome."
Those two words almost made me cry.
I kissed her forehead.
"How are you feeling?"
"Like I got hit by a truck."
I sat beside her.
"Your sense of humor survived."
She gave a weak laugh.
Then noticed my expression.
"What happened?"
I showed her a photograph of the note.
Her face changed.
"Oh."
"Who were you talking about?"
She looked down.
"I wasn't sure."
"Nia."
"I had suspicions."
"About who?"
She swallowed.
"Thomas."
Our accountant.
Thomas Grant had worked with me for six years.
He handled my construction company's financial records.
He also helped Nia during the foundation's first year.
He had attended our wedding.
He was practically family.
"Thomas?" I whispered.
Nia nodded.
"I noticed several foundation payments were approved using credentials connected to his account."
I stared at her.
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"Because I didn't know whether someone had stolen his access."
She looked ashamed.
"I was trying to find proof."
I squeezed her hand.
"You don't have to apologize."
"But I should've told you."
"Yes," I admitted gently. "I wish you had."
Her eyes filled.
"I thought I could fix it before anyone got hurt."
I leaned forward.
"Baby, protecting each other means telling the truth, even when it's frightening."
She nodded.
"I know."
I kissed her hand.
"We're going to get through this."
But as I said those words, my phone vibrated.
A message from Thomas.
Marcus, I heard about Nia. I'm devastated. Let me know if you need anything.
I stared at the screen.
The timing was almost too perfect.
I didn't answer immediately.
Instead, I forwarded the message to Detective Brooks.
She advised me not to confront him.
I followed her instructions.
That afternoon, another development changed everything.
Samuel Reed, the funeral home security worker, had contacted investigators.
He provided copies of available surveillance footage.
Detective Brooks later told us what the recordings showed.
Two men had transported Nia into a private storage area before the funeral.
One was Daniel.
The other wore a cap and kept his face partly hidden.
Additional footage showed a woman entering the building late that night.
She carried a medical bag.
Investigators were working to identify her.
Nia listened with tears in her eyes.
"That woman was there."
I turned toward her.
"You remember?"
"Not clearly."
She closed her eyes.
"Someone touched my arm."
She began trembling.
"A woman said, 'Don't fight it.'"
I reached for her hand.
"You're okay."
Nia shook her head.
"Marcus, I remember hearing Daniel."
"What did he say?"
Her lips trembled.
"He said the funeral had to happen before the auditors arrived."
I stared at her.
That was it.
The foundation had recently been notified about an external audit.
Nia had told me two weeks earlier.
I hadn't thought much about it.
Now everything made sense.
Daniel needed Nia silenced before the auditors reviewed the financial records.
And whoever helped him had access to both the foundation and our personal lives.
The following day, Detective Brooks called.
She confirmed that Thomas had been questioned.
He denied involvement.
He claimed his credentials had been used without permission.
But investigators had found suspicious connections between his financial activity and accounts tied to Daniel.
My anger rose.
Thomas had looked me in the face for years.
He had shaken my hand.
Called me brother.
And now he might have helped destroy my life.
That evening, I returned home to collect more clothing.
As I parked, I noticed something strange.
The garage side door was slightly open.
I always locked it.
I stopped walking.
Then I called the police.
I waited in my car until officers arrived.
They checked the house.
No one was inside.
But my office had been disturbed.
Drawers were open.
Folders had been moved.
And my computer was missing.
I stood in the doorway, stunned.
Someone had broken into my home while my wife was recovering from an attempted killing.
Someone was still searching for evidence.
An officer asked whether anything else was missing.
I checked the filing cabinet.
Then the safe.
Several documents remained untouched.
But one folder was gone.
The folder containing copies of our construction company's contracts with the foundation.
I felt a cold realization settle over me.
Daniel hadn't only been stealing foundation money.
He had been using my company too.
And someone wanted to erase the proof.
Then my phone rang.
Unknown number.
I answered cautiously.
A voice whispered, "Mr. Bennett?"
"Who's this?"
"It's Caleb."
I nearly dropped the phone.
"Caleb? Where are you?"
"I got away."
My heart pounded.
"Are you safe?"
"Not yet."
"Tell me where you are."
He began crying.
May you like
Then whispered something that made my blood run cold.
"Marcus, Daniel isn't the one making all the decisions."
