Chapter 6
I tried calling my mother back.
No answer.
I called again.
Nothing.
Grandma grabbed my wrist before I could rush outside.
"Maya, we're not going there alone."
She called 911.
I gave the dispatcher the address while Grandma contacted Detective Mitchell.
My heart pounded so hard I could barely hear myself speak.
Marcus had already tried to take my house.
He had taken my father's money.
And now he was back with my mother.
I imagined a hundred terrible things.
Grandma drove us to a nearby shopping center and parked where we could see the main road.
We waited for the police to contact us.
Every minute felt endless.
Finally, Detective Mitchell called.
"Your mother is safe."
I nearly collapsed with relief.
"What happened?"
"Marcus returned for some documents. There was an argument. He left before officers arrived."
"Did he hurt her?"
"She says he grabbed her phone and knocked a lamp over. We're taking a statement."
I shut my eyes.
"Can we see her?"
"Yes. Officers are still at the property."
When we arrived, Claire was sitting at the kitchen table.
Her hair was messy.
Her hands shook around a glass of water.
For the first time in years, she looked smaller than me.
"Maya."
She stood quickly.
I stopped a few feet away.
"Are you okay?"
She nodded.
Then she began crying.
"I didn't know he was coming back."
Grandma walked past us.
"Where's the drawer?"
Claire pointed toward the hallway.
The police had already photographed the office.
Detective Mitchell explained that Claire had voluntarily turned over the photograph and several documents, and that they would preserve them as part of the investigation.
He showed us a copy of the photograph.
My father stood outside a warehouse beside Marcus.
They were younger.
Dad was smiling.
Marcus wasn't.
I stared at their faces.
"Why didn't anyone tell me they knew each other?"
Claire shook her head.
"Marcus never said a word."
Grandma studied the building behind them.
Then she made a strange sound.
"Oh, Daniel."
I looked at her.
"You recognize it?"
She nodded.
"Your father once invested in a small logistics company. It didn't work out."
I frowned.
"What company?"
"Redbrook Freight."
I remembered the name Denise had shown us.
Redbrook Consulting.
My stomach tightened.
"Is that connected to Marcus?"
Grandma looked deeply troubled.
"I don't know."
Detective Mitchell asked more questions.
Grandma explained that Dad had briefly worked with two partners before deciding to leave the business.
He believed their accounting was dishonest.
"He told me he wanted nothing more to do with them," she said.
"Did he identify the partners?" the detective asked.
"One was a man named Leonard Price."
She looked down at the photograph.
"And apparently Marcus was involved too."
Claire pressed her fingers to her temples.
"Marcus told me he first moved to this city five years ago."
I stared at her.
"He lied about knowing Dad."
She nodded.
It was a terrible realization.
The man who had promised to become part of our family had concealed a connection to the man we lost.
Detective Mitchell warned us not to jump to conclusions about Dad's death.
His accident had been investigated.
Nothing we had discovered proved it was connected to Marcus.
I understood.
But I also knew Marcus had lied.
And I wanted to know why.
Later, Denise helped us review copies of the documents Claire had discovered.
There were unpaid business invoices.
Letters from private lenders.
An agreement listing a promised repayment of two hundred and seventy thousand dollars.
And a handwritten payment schedule.
The deadline was in four days.
I pointed to the final page.
"What's this?"
Denise read it carefully.
Then she looked at Grandma.
"It's an agreement involving a proposed sale of the Brooks property."
My stomach dropped.
"That's our house."
She nodded.
"Marcus appears to have represented that he could deliver clear title to a buyer."
Claire covered her mouth.
"He told me we were downsizing after Maya left."
I turned slowly.
"What?"
She began crying.
"He said we would sell the house, move into a smaller one, and use the difference to pay off the business debt."
"You knew about the sale?"
"I thought..." She stopped.
I stared at her.
"You thought you owned the house."
Her shoulders fell.
"Yes."
"But you knew Grandma bought it."
"I thought she would eventually sign it over to me."
I couldn't believe what I was hearing.
"So you planned to take my home, sell it, and keep the money?"
Claire shook her head.
"I didn't understand what Marcus had done."
"You understood enough to give me an eviction notice."
She had no answer.
That silence told me the truth.
My mother might not have forged my signature.
But she had wanted me out of the way.
I left the room before I said something I couldn't take back.
Grandma found me on the front porch.
I was staring at the flower beds I had helped plant when I was twelve.
"I used to think this house was the only reason Mom kept me around," I whispered.
Grandma sat beside me.
"Why?"
"Because Dad died, and she always looked at me like I reminded her of something painful."
Grandma was quiet for a long moment.
Then she said, "Your mother loved your father very much. But she never learned how to handle grief without hurting the people closest to her."
I wiped my face.
"That doesn't make it okay."
"No," Grandma said. "It doesn't."
She reached into her handbag.
"I have something for you."
It was a small photograph.
Dad was sitting beside me at our old kitchen table, helping me write my name.
On the back, he had written:
Maya will do extraordinary things because she has a brave heart.
I cried.
Grandma held me until I could breathe again.
Then my phone vibrated.
An email had arrived from an unfamiliar address.
The subject line read:
Your father tried to warn your family.
Attached was a scanned letter.
It was dated two weeks before Dad's death.
May you like
The first sentence made my blood run cold.
Evelyn, if anything happens to me, please keep Maya away from Marcus Reed.
