Chapter 6
I wanted to believe Camille had simply disappeared to avoid the investigation.
But Vanessa's voice frightened me.
She wasn't angry.
She wasn't arrogant.
She sounded like someone whose carefully built world had finally collapsed.
“Marcus,” she cried through the phone, “please help me find her.”
My son looked at me.
For a moment, I saw the husband he had been before all this happened.
The man who loved Vanessa.
The man who wanted to protect her from everything.
Then he asked, “Have you called the police?”
“Yes.”
“Good.”
“They said they're looking into it.”
“Then cooperate with them.”
Vanessa began sobbing.
“Marcus, I'm scared.”
He closed his eyes.
“I know.”
She whispered, “Please don't leave me alone.”
Marcus looked at me again.
I could see the struggle.
He wasn't ready to forgive her.
But he couldn't simply stop caring.
“Vanessa,” he said, “I can't fix this for you.”
There was silence.
Then he continued.
“But if your mother is missing, we'll give the police any information that helps find her.”
I nodded.
It was the right answer.
Compassion without surrender.
Care without pretending the betrayal hadn't happened.
After the call, Marcus sat down.
“I don't know who she is anymore.”
I placed my hand over his.
“Then let the truth show you.”
The next morning, Detective Rachel Monroe arrived at my beach house.
She had been assigned to investigate the suspected property fraud.
Now she was also reviewing the threatening photograph and Camille's disappearance.
She was in her early forties, with short natural hair and a calm, direct manner.
I liked her immediately.
She didn't speak to me as though my age made me fragile.
She asked questions.
She listened.
And she treated my answers seriously.
“Mrs. Bennett, do you recognize the vehicle from your security footage?”
“No.”
“Have you seen the woman before?”
“Not clearly.”
She examined the photograph someone had left in my mailbox.
“Who knew you were reading this letter?”
“Marcus and Denise.”
“Anyone else?”
I thought carefully.
“No.”
The detective studied the image.
“Whoever took this had a view of your patio.”
I nodded.
“That concerns me.”
“It concerns us too.”
She asked permission to review my security system.
I agreed.
A technician retrieved additional footage from neighboring cameras with the owners' cooperation.
Within hours, investigators identified the SUV.
It was registered to a small consulting company.
The company belonged to Adrian Cole.
I felt sick.
So Adrian had not simply been an investor relying on bad paperwork.
Someone connected to him had been watching me.
The detective warned me not to confront him.
I promised I wouldn't.
But I asked one question.
“Where is Camille?”
Monroe's expression became serious.
“We have reason to believe she was with Adrian yesterday.”
“Is she alive?”
“We haven't located her yet.”
I closed my eyes.
Despite everything Camille had done, I didn't want her hurt.
I wanted her to answer for her actions.
I wanted her to understand the damage she caused.
But I didn't want tragedy.
That afternoon, Denise came over with good news.
The court had scheduled an expedited hearing concerning the false incapacity petition.
My independent assessment showed no significant cognitive impairment.
My physician also provided a statement confirming that the allegations were unsupported by my medical records.
I felt vindicated.
But Denise reminded me the legal process still mattered.
“We'll present the evidence and ask the court to dismiss the petition.”
I nodded.
“And the house?”
“We've filed notice disputing the transaction and requested relief preventing any transfer while the ownership issue is litigated.”
I exhaled.
For the first time, I felt the law beginning to catch up with the lies.
Then Denise opened another folder.
“Evelyn, we found something in the business records.”
I leaned forward.
“What?”
“Vanessa's company received several large transfers from Adrian's firm.”
“How large?”
“More than two hundred thousand dollars in total.”
I stared at her.
“More than she admitted?”
“Yes.”
I looked toward the windows.
My house had a market value far above that amount.
If Adrian obtained it for a fraction of its worth, he could make an enormous profit.
Denise continued.
“Some money went to Vanessa's business accounts. Some appears to have gone to Camille.”
My stomach tightened.
“Camille?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“We don't know yet.”
I thought of Camille's expensive jewelry.
Her sudden vacations.
Her claims that she had found a wonderful investment opportunity.
I remembered one dinner when she bragged about buying a new luxury vehicle.
At the time, I congratulated her.
Now I wondered where the money came from.
That evening, Vanessa arrived unexpectedly.
Marcus had warned her not to come without asking.
But she stood outside my gate, crying.
I spoke to her through the security intercom.
“Vanessa, why are you here?”
“I need to tell you something.”
“Tell your attorney.”
“Please, Evelyn.”
I hesitated.
Then I called Marcus.
He arrived before I opened the gate.
We met Vanessa on the driveway.
She looked nothing like the woman who arrived with twenty-two guests.
Her hair was pulled into a messy bun.
She wore an oversized sweatshirt.
Her eyes were swollen.
“I found something in my mother's apartment,” she whispered.
Marcus folded his arms.
“What?”
Vanessa held out a small notebook.
“My mother kept records.”
I looked at the notebook.
“What records?”
“Payments. Meetings. Names.”
Marcus stared at her.
“Why are you giving this to us?”
Vanessa began crying.
“Because I think Adrian is lying to everybody.”
I felt anger rise.
“Vanessa, you lied to everybody.”
She flinched.
“I know.”
“Then start by telling the truth.”
She wiped her cheeks.
“Adrian promised me a legitimate business partnership. He said the beach house would be transferred into a holding company, but he promised Evelyn would still be allowed to live there.”
I stared at her.
“You planned to transfer my home without asking me.”
She lowered her head.
“Yes.”
“Then what happened?”
“He said investors needed full ownership before releasing more money.”
Marcus asked, “Did you know the signature was forged?”
Vanessa hesitated.
Then nodded.
I felt my heart break all over again.
“Did you forge it?”
“No,” she whispered. “My mother arranged the documents.”
“Did you know?”
“Yes.”
Marcus turned away.
Vanessa began sobbing.
“I thought I could fix everything before anyone found out.”
I looked at her.
“That isn't fixing anything. That's hiding it.”
She nodded.
“I know.”
Then she said something that changed the direction of the conversation.
“My mother wanted to stop.”
I stared at her.
“What?”
“After Adrian demanded the guardianship petition, she started getting scared.”
Marcus frowned.
“Camille helped file it.”
“I know. But she didn't understand how far Adrian planned to go.”
I said nothing.
Vanessa continued.
“She found out he had done something similar to another family.”
My stomach tightened.
“Another family?”
She nodded.
“An elderly couple in South Carolina.”
Denise had told me Adrian's company operated along the coast.
Now I wondered how many homes had been targeted.
Vanessa handed me the notebook.
“Mom wrote down the names.”
I looked at the pages.
Several entries listed dates and payments.
One name had been circled repeatedly.
Harold Pierce.
I frowned.
“Who's Harold?”
Vanessa swallowed.
“He used to work for Adrian.”
“Used to?”
“He disappeared from the company after accusing Adrian of fraud.”
Marcus leaned forward.
“What happened to him?”
Vanessa looked frightened.
“I don't know.”
Then she pulled out her phone.
“My mother sent me a voice message before she disappeared.”
She pressed play.
Camille's voice filled the driveway.
“Vanessa, baby, I made a terrible mistake. Adrian isn't just trying to get Evelyn's house. He's been doing this for years. I have proof. I'm going to meet him and make him stop. If anything happens to me, look for the blue folder.”
The recording ended.
I felt cold.
“What blue folder?” I asked.
Vanessa shook her head.
“I haven't found it.”
Marcus looked at me.
Then at his wife.
“Where did your mother meet Adrian?”
Vanessa hesitated.
“His office near the marina.”
I reached for my phone.
“We need to tell Detective Monroe.”
Before I could call, Vanessa received a text.
She looked at the screen.
Then screamed.
Marcus grabbed her shoulders.
“What happened?”
She held out the phone.
A photograph showed Camille sitting in a chair inside an unfamiliar room.
Her face was bruised.
Her hands were bound.
Beneath the photograph was a message.
"Bring Evelyn's original deed, or your mother doesn't come home."
May you like
I stared at the screen.
And I realized the man trying to steal my home was willing to destroy an entire family to get it.
