Chapter 7
I didn't chase Raymond.
I didn't call him.
And I didn't confront him.
Instead, I contacted Raymond Price, our attorney.
He advised us to provide the information to the appropriate investigators.
I agreed.
For weeks, I'd been tempted to handle everything inside the family.
That was how Grandpa had handled problems.
That was how Raymond wanted problems handled.
That was how my father had been silenced.
I wasn't going to repeat the same mistake.
The authorities reviewed the information.
They examined the financial records.
They requested additional documents.
And they began evaluating whether Raymond's planned travel had any relevance to the ongoing investigation.
I tried to remain patient.
But patience was difficult.
Every day, I woke up wondering whether we'd finally learn what happened to Dad.
Every night, I reread his letters.
Sometimes I cried.
Sometimes I felt angry.
Sometimes I simply sat beside Nia and stared at the wall.
One evening, she found me holding the photograph of my father.
"Isaiah."
I looked up.
"Yeah?"
"How are you feeling?"
I laughed bitterly.
"Like I'm chasing a ghost."
She sat beside me.
I continued.
"I've spent my whole life missing him."
My voice broke.
"And now I'm learning that the stories I was told might be wrong."
Nia nodded.
"I know."
I looked at her.
"What if we never find out exactly what happened?"
She thought carefully.
"Then you'll still know he loved you."
My eyes filled.
"And you'll still be able to protect the future he wanted for you."
I looked down at the photograph.
My father smiled back at me.
For years, I'd believed his death defined our family.
Now I wondered whether his courage might define us instead.
The following week, investigators requested interviews with several relatives.
Grandpa cooperated.
Aunt Josephine provided old correspondence.
Solomon retained an attorney and answered questions through proper channels.
Malik also began cooperating concerning the Willow Creek lease.
It wasn't easy.
Some relatives accused me of destroying the family.
Others said I should let the past remain buried.
At one gathering, an elderly cousin pulled me aside.
"Isaiah, family matters should stay inside the family."
I looked at him.
"Why?"
He seemed surprised.
"Because reputation matters."
I nodded.
"So does honesty."
He frowned.
I continued.
"My father raised questions about missing money. Nobody listened."
The man looked away.
"And now I have evidence that my mother's property was used without permission."
My voice remained calm.
"Keeping quiet didn't protect our family."
He said nothing.
I walked away.
For the first time, I wasn't afraid of disappointing people who benefited from silence.
Meanwhile, Malik's situation became clearer.
The unauthorized lease had created financial obligations.
His business couldn't repay the full advance immediately.
His attorney proposed selling certain assets to recover the money.
I agreed to review the proposal through my own lawyer.
I didn't want revenge.
I wanted accountability.
And I wanted my mother's property protected.
Malik called again a few days later.
"Isaiah."
I took a breath.
"Hello."
His voice shook.
"I've started counseling."
I frowned.
"Okay."
He continued.
"I know that doesn't fix anything."
"No."
He sighed.
"But I'm trying to understand why I acted the way I did."
I leaned back.
"What have you learned?"
There was a pause.
Then he whispered, "I spent my whole life believing I deserved everything because Dad told me I did."
My chest tightened.
He continued.
"He said your father was weak."
I closed my eyes.
"He said you weren't really interested in the family businesses."
I swallowed.
"And I believed him."
I looked down.
Malik began crying.
"I treated you like you didn't belong."
I nodded slowly.
"Yes."
He continued.
"And when I needed money, I convinced myself the family owed me."
For the first time, he sounded honest.
Not defensive.
Not arrogant.
Just ashamed.
I took a breath.
"Malik, I don't know whether we can ever be close again."
He went quiet.
"But if you want to change, you'll have to prove it over time."
He nodded.
"I understand."
After we hung up, I sat quietly.
For years, Malik had been my rival.
The cousin who received everything.
The man who told me I wasn't a proper heir.
Now I was beginning to see how Raymond had shaped him.
That didn't excuse what he'd done.
But it helped explain it.
A few days later, Raymond Price called.
His voice sounded serious.
"Isaiah, we have a development."
My heart jumped.
"What?"
"The financial investigation has identified additional records connected to your father's concerns."
I sat up.
"What records?"
"Correspondence between Raymond and a former business associate."
My stomach tightened.
"What does it say?"
Raymond hesitated.
"It suggests Daniel had been pressuring Raymond to return certain funds."
I closed my eyes.
"And?"
"There are references to a meeting on the night of Daniel's accident."
My heart stopped.
I stared at the wall.
"Did they meet?"
"The records suggest they did."
I swallowed.
"Does that mean Raymond caused the accident?"
Raymond answered firmly.
"No. We don't have evidence establishing that."
I nodded.
I appreciated his caution.
Then he continued.
"But investigators are reviewing the circumstances."
My hands began shaking.
For twenty-seven years, I'd lived with one explanation.
Now even that explanation was uncertain.
I looked toward Nia.
She immediately came beside me.
I squeezed her hand.
Raymond continued.
"There's something else."
My stomach tightened.
"What?"
"A former employee has come forward."
I stared at the phone.
"Who?"
"His name is Thomas Reed."
I frowned.
I'd never heard of him.
Raymond explained that Thomas had worked as a driver for one of the family companies.
He was now retired.
After hearing about the investigation, he contacted authorities.
My pulse raced.
"What does he know?"
Raymond hesitated.
"He says he saw Raymond and Daniel arguing that evening."
I closed my eyes.
Then asked the question I'd feared for weeks.
"Did he see what happened afterward?"
There was a pause.
Then Raymond answered.
"He says he saw another vehicle follow your father's car."
My stomach dropped.
I couldn't breathe.
Another vehicle.
The same detail mentioned in the old accident report.
I gripped Nia's hand.
"Whose vehicle?"
Raymond took a breath.
"That's what investigators are trying to establish."
For a moment, I stared at the floor.
Then I looked at my father's photograph.
Twenty-seven years.
May you like
That was how long the questions had been waiting.
And now, for the first time, someone who'd been there was finally speaking.
