Chapter 6
The next twenty-four hours were the longest of my life.
Police issued an alert for Rebecca and Sophie.
Vernon’s attorneys insisted he had nothing to do with their disappearance.
Andrew stopped answering calls.
Rachel took their two sons out of school.
It felt like the entire Whitmore family was vanishing.
Except Camille.
She stayed.
For Maya.
For me.
For the truth.
Detective Hale warned us not to leave Maya alone.
We did not.
My mother moved into the guest room.
A patrol car drove past our house regularly.
At night, I checked every lock twice.
Maya still slept with the hallway light on.
On the second morning, Detective Hale came to our house.
His expression told me something had changed.
“They’re alive.”
Camille grabbed the back of a chair.
“Rebecca and Sophie?”
“Yes.”
I closed my eyes.
“Where?”
“Safe.”
That was all he would say.
“Were they kidnapped?”
“No.”
I stared at him.
“They disappeared deliberately?”
Hale nodded.
“Rebecca believed she was being followed.”
“By Vernon?”
“She wasn’t sure.”
He sat down.
“She contacted us from a location outside the county.”
Camille looked confused.
“Why abandon her car?”
“To see who would come looking for it.”
“And?”
Hale hesitated.
“A private investigator employed by one of Vernon’s attorneys.”
My anger returned instantly.
“Is that legal?”
“Following someone generally can be. Intimidation is another issue.”
“What happens now?”
“Rebecca is giving us evidence.”
“What kind?”
Hale looked at Camille.
“Recordings.”
Camille’s face changed.
“She recorded my father?”
“For years.”
Rebecca had been collecting evidence since Sophie first accused Vernon.
Her husband had accepted Vernon’s money.
Rebecca had pretended to cooperate.
Instead she saved copies of every communication.
Every threat.
Every payment.
Every settlement offer.
One recording captured Vernon telling Sophie’s father that police “believe respectable men over emotional children.”
Another captured him threatening to destroy Rebecca financially.
But one recording was different.
It involved Andrew.
Hale played it for us.
Andrew’s voice came through first.
“You promised nobody would get hurt.”
Vernon answered.
“Everyone gets hurt eventually.”
“What you’re doing is sick.”
“Careful.”
“I won’t help you anymore.”
A pause.
Then Vernon said, “You will if you want your sons protected.”
The recording ended.
Camille covered her mouth.
“My God.”
Andrew had not simply been protecting Vernon.
At some point, he had tried to escape.
And Vernon had threatened his children.
“Where is Andrew?” I asked.
“We’re looking for him.”
“What about Rachel and the boys?”
“Also missing.”
I felt sick.
Hale saw my expression.
“We have no evidence they’re in immediate danger.”
“But you don’t know where they are.”
“No.”
Camille stood.
“I might.”
We both looked at her.
She hurried upstairs.
Minutes later she returned with an old photo album.
She flipped through pages until she found a picture of a cabin beside a lake.
“My mother’s cabin.”
I had heard of it but never visited.
Camille’s mother died when she was twenty.
“Dad hated the place,” she said. “Mom left it to Andrew and me, but Dad convinced us to sell it.”
“Did you?”
“I thought Andrew did.”
Hale leaned forward.
“You think he kept it?”
“I remember something Rachel said last Christmas.”
“What?”
“She joked that Andrew had one investment his father could never touch.”
Hale immediately made calls.
The cabin had never been sold.
It belonged to a holding company registered to Rachel.
Police found Andrew, Rachel, and their boys there that afternoon.
They were safe.
Andrew surrendered a laptop containing copies of Vernon’s internal files.
His reason was simple.
“I finally chose my children.”
When Camille heard that, she cried.
Not because Andrew was innocent.
He wasn’t.
He had helped Vernon commit fraud.
But he was cooperating.
He had decided the cycle ended with him.
For the first time, prosecutors had witnesses from inside Vernon’s own family.
The case expanded quickly.
Financial crimes.
Witness intimidation.
Fraud.
Obstruction.
And multiple allegations involving children.
Vernon remained in custody while his lawyers fought for release.
Three days later, a judge denied bail.
When I heard that, I went straight to Maya.
She was sitting at the kitchen table coloring.
“Grandpa isn’t coming home.”
Her crayon stopped.
“Ever?”
“I don’t know about ever.”
I refused to promise what I could not control.
“But he can’t come here.”
“Tonight?”
“No.”
“Tomorrow?”
“No.”
She looked at me.
“Next week?”
“No.”
Her shoulders dropped.
She breathed out.
It was the first time I realized how tense she had been every moment since this began.
“Can I sleep in my room again?”
My eyes burned.
“If you want.”
She nodded.
That night, Camille and I helped her move back upstairs.
We changed the curtains because she said the old ones reminded her of hiding.
We moved her bed to another wall.
My mother brought a new lamp.
Maya chose a bright yellow blanket.
Small things.
But they mattered.
At bedtime, Camille stood awkwardly near the door.
Maya noticed.
“Mom?”
“Yes?”
“Can you sit here?”
Camille froze.
“Of course.”
She sat on the edge of the bed.
Maya did not ask her to leave.
I stood in the hallway and watched my wife read a story to our daughter.
Halfway through, Maya rested her head against Camille’s arm.
Camille kept reading.
But tears rolled silently down her face.
Later, we sat downstairs.
“I don’t deserve that,” she whispered.
“This isn’t about deserving.”
“I hurt her.”
“Yes.”
Camille looked at me.
“Will you ever forgive me?”
“I don’t know.”
She nodded.
Then I reached for her hand.
“I’m willing to try.”
She started crying.
For the first time since this nightmare began, I held my wife.
Not because everything was repaired.
It wasn’t.
But because healing had to begin somewhere.
Then Detective Hale called again.
There was another development.
Investigators had discovered Vernon owned a storage facility under a false company name.
They had obtained a warrant.
May you like
Inside, they found dozens of locked boxes.
And one of those boxes had Camille’s name written across the top.
