Chapter 8
The disappearance of Vanessa's brother sent the investigation into a new phase.
His name was Adrian Price.
He had owned the company that received money from the foundation and had allegedly arranged the suspicious vehicle repair.
Investigators searched his home and office.
They found several empty filing cabinets, a recently wiped computer, and a safe that had been forced open.
But Adrian himself was gone.
My father immediately arranged additional security for Grandma's house.
He wanted me to stay somewhere protected until the investigation was complete.
For once, I agreed.
I didn't want to live in fear.
I wanted to graduate.
I wanted to finish the final assignments I had been neglecting while my world fell apart.
Most of all, I wanted to remember my mother without feeling as though every memory was hiding another terrible secret.
My best friend, Tasha, came over that afternoon with a stack of textbooks and a bag of snacks.
She had been calling me constantly since the incident at my father's office.
When I finally told her everything, she sat beside me on the couch and listened without interrupting.
Then she hugged me.
“You don't have to be strong every second, Nia.”
I began to cry.
“I feel like if I stop moving, everything will catch up with me.”
“Then let it catch up. I'll sit here with you.”
We spent the afternoon studying.
For a few hours, I was just a college student trying to pass her final exams.
It felt almost miraculous.
The next morning, Detective Harris called with an update.
Adrian had been located in a hotel outside Savannah.
He had contacted his attorney and agreed to surrender.
Investigators recovered a laptop containing deleted financial records and several messages exchanged with Vanessa.
The messages suggested that Adrian had handled the payments connected to the foundation.
They also revealed that Vanessa had asked him to remove documents from the family home after my mother's death.
One message referred to a letter that could expose them both.
Another mentioned my father.
The message read:
Marcus must never learn that the account was created in his name.
My father stared at the evidence.
“Someone used my identity to authorize those transfers.”
The forensic accountant confirmed that several transactions had been processed through credentials linked to my father's executive account.
Investigators were working to determine exactly how the credentials had been obtained.
But the records suggested that Vanessa and Adrian had deliberately concealed the transactions.
Then Detective Harris showed us a message sent the week my mother died.
Adrian had written:
The repair is finished. Nobody should be able to trace it back to us.
Vanessa's response was chillingly brief.
Make sure the problem disappears with everything else.
The detective explained that the wording alone did not prove that they had intended to cause a fatal crash.
They needed corroborating evidence and testimony.
But Adrian had agreed to provide both.
He claimed Vanessa had told him that my mother planned to expose the financial scheme and destroy their lives.
He also claimed he had arranged for the vehicle to be tampered with because he wanted to frighten her into abandoning the investigation.
According to his statement, he hadn't expected her to drive the vehicle that night.
I struggled to process his explanation.
“You're saying he damaged her car to scare her?”
Detective Harris nodded.
“That is what he claims. We are verifying it.”
My father stood by the window, his face rigid.
“A person doesn't get to decide that frightening someone is harmless.”
“No,” the detective agreed. “He doesn't.”
Adrian's testimony placed Vanessa at the center of the scheme, but it also revealed something else.
The night of the accident, Vanessa had been at my father's house.
She had told him she was preparing dinner.
But phone records showed that she had called Adrian several times while my mother was driving.
The last call had lasted nearly four minutes.
Investigators were attempting to establish what had been discussed.
My father sat down slowly.
“She was in my house while my wife was dying.”
I reached for his hand.
He held mine tightly.
For once, I wasn't the only one who needed comfort.
That evening, I found my father in the guest room looking through old photographs.
He had spread them across the bed.
My mother holding me as a baby.
My first day of school.
My eighth birthday.
A family picnic beside a lake.
He picked up a photograph of my mother laughing at something outside the frame.
“I used to think that if I kept her memory alive, I was doing enough.”
He looked at me.
“But I let someone else decide which parts of that memory were allowed to remain.”
I sat beside him.
“Mom wouldn't want you to spend the rest of your life blaming yourself.”
He nodded.
“I know.”
“She would want you to be here.”
He took my hand.
“I am here.”
For the first time, the words felt real.
The following morning, Vanessa's lawyer contacted Detective Harris.
Vanessa was willing to provide a statement.
She claimed Adrian had acted without her knowledge and that she had only attempted to keep the financial records private to avoid a scandal.
My father refused to believe her.
But Detective Harris reminded us that investigators would need to follow the evidence.
A few hours later, the police recovered a second phone from Adrian's hotel room.
It contained a recording of a conversation between him and Vanessa.
The recording was several years old.
At first, the voices were muffled.
Then Vanessa spoke clearly.
“If Marcus ever discovers what happened, we lose everything.”
Adrian answered, “Then he can't discover it.”
There was a pause.
Then Vanessa said something that made my blood run cold.
“It's not just the money anymore. It's the girl.”
My father grabbed the edge of the table.
The recording continued.
Adrian asked, “What about Nia?”
Vanessa replied, “As long as she believes he abandoned her, she'll never look for answers.”
The recording ended.
I stared at the phone.
She hadn't merely wanted to protect her marriage.
She had wanted to control what I believed about my own father.
She had wanted to turn my grief into a weapon against me.
My father pulled me into his arms.
“I should have seen it.”
I held him tightly.
“We can't change what happened.”
“No,” he whispered. “But we can decide what happens next.”
For the first time, I believed we could.
Then Detective Harris received another call.
She listened for several seconds before turning toward us.
“Vanessa has been taken into custody for questioning.”
My father's shoulders lowered.
But the detective wasn't finished.
“She says she has evidence that could change the entire investigation.”
“What evidence?” I asked.
May you like
Detective Harris looked at me.
“She's claiming your mother gave her the original letter voluntarily.”
