Chapter 5
I stepped away from the wedding guests because I didn't want Nia to hear the threat.
Angela Reynolds was crying on the phone.
I could hear traffic behind her.
"Where are you?" I asked.
"Outside my mother's house."
"Are you safe?"
"I don't know."
I looked toward Marcus.
He was holding Nia close while two police officers entered the garden.
Diane was arguing with them.
For once, nobody seemed interested in believing her.
"Angela, listen carefully. Call the police. Don't go inside alone."
"I already called them."
"Good."
She sniffed.
"My mother was supposed to meet me yesterday. She never came."
"When did you last speak to her?"
"Thursday night."
I checked the date.
Three days.
Margaret Reynolds had been missing for three days.
"Did she say where she was going?"
Angela hesitated.
"She said she needed to make something right."
My chest tightened.
"Did she mention me?"
"Yes."
I closed my eyes.
"She said she had kept a secret from you for eighteen years."
I gripped the phone harder.
"What secret?"
"She wouldn't tell me."
Angela began crying again.
"She said she was afraid someone would hurt me if I knew."
I looked toward Diane.
She was standing beside a police officer, speaking rapidly.
Even from a distance, I could see that she was trying to control the conversation.
"Angela, I'll help find your mother."
"Please."
Her voice broke.
"She's all I have."
Those words struck me deeply.
I knew what it meant to fear losing the only person who had always loved you.
"I promise I'll do everything I can."
When I ended the call, Marcus approached.
"Who was that?"
"Margaret Reynolds's daughter."
His expression changed.
"Did she find her?"
"No."
I told him about the threat.
He listened without interrupting.
Then he looked toward the officers.
"We need to tell them."
I nodded.
Nia joined us.
"Tell them what?"
I hesitated.
She looked directly into my eyes.
"Dad, please don't start hiding things to protect me."
I felt ashamed.
She was right.
Secrets had already destroyed too much of our lives.
So I told her.
Her face grew pale.
"Someone threatened Mrs. Reynolds?"
"Possibly."
"Because of what happened to me?"
"We don't know."
Nia shook her head.
"But we have to find her."
I nodded.
"We will."
The police separated Diane and Charles for questioning.
Several guests left quietly.
Others remained, unsure whether the wedding reception would continue.
I looked around at the decorations.
The flowers.
The champagne tables.
The peach-colored drapes.
Everything looked exactly as I had imagined when I paid for the celebration.
Except my daughter was crying.
My new son-in-law was speaking to police.
And I was standing in a ruined suit, wondering whether another woman had been harmed because of my family's secrets.
I turned toward Nia.
"Sweetheart, you don't have to stay here."
She looked at Marcus.
Then back at me.
"I don't want to leave."
"Are you sure?"
She nodded.
"For years, Mom decided when every conversation ended."
Her voice became stronger.
"Not today."
I felt a painful mixture of pride and sadness.
My daughter should never have needed this kind of courage.
But she had it.
And I was grateful.
The lead detective introduced herself as Detective Simone Carter.
She was a calm woman in her forties, with observant eyes and a voice that demanded honesty without raising its volume.
She listened as we explained the trust documents, the childhood injury, and Margaret's disappearance.
Then she turned toward Diane.
"Mrs. Whitmore, we need to ask you some questions."
Diane stiffened.
"My name is Diane Bennett."
I nearly laughed.
We had been divorced for eighteen years.
She had continued using my surname because it gave her access to the social circles she wanted.
Detective Carter glanced at her notes.
"Ms. Bennett, then."
Diane folded her arms.
"I haven't done anything."
"Then answering questions should be straightforward."
Diane demanded an attorney.
The detective agreed to arrange the appropriate process.
Charles, meanwhile, asked to speak to police privately.
I watched officers lead him toward the mansion.
Nia touched my arm.
"Dad, do you think Mom hurt Mrs. Reynolds?"
I looked into her frightened eyes.
"I don't know."
It was the truth.
And I refused to give her another comforting lie.
Marcus approached with a clean jacket.
"Arthur, change into this."
I looked down.
The purple stains had dried unevenly.
I could feel the sticky fabric against my skin.
"Where did you get it?"
"One of my groomsmen had a spare."
I smiled weakly.
"Thank you."
He shook his head.
"You don't have to thank me."
I looked at him.
"Yes, I do."
My voice cracked.
"You defended me when nobody else would."
Marcus placed a hand on my shoulder.
"You're family."
I had wanted to hear those words for years.
Not from Marcus specifically.
From anyone.
Family.
I had spent so long being treated like an unwanted stranger.
Now someone was telling me I belonged.
Before I could answer, Detective Carter approached.
"Mr. Bennett, we have a problem."
My stomach tightened.
"What happened?"
"Mr. Whitmore has provided information about a property outside Savannah."
"Related to Margaret?"
"Possibly."
She lowered her voice.
"He says Diane rented the property through a company associated with the trust."
I stared at her.
"Which company?"
"Bellweather Development."
I felt my blood turn cold.
I knew that name.
It had appeared in several suspicious transactions Marcus uncovered.
"That's the company receiving the trust money."
The detective nodded.
"We're checking the address."
I stepped forward.
"I want to go."
"I'm afraid that's not possible."
"Detective—"
"Mr. Bennett, this is an active investigation."
I stopped.
She was right.
I couldn't help by interfering.
But standing still felt unbearable.
Detective Carter looked at me more gently.
"If Margaret is there, we'll find her."
I nodded.
Then she added something unexpected.
"There's another reason I need to speak with you."
"What?"
"Mr. Whitmore claims you authorized several of the trust transfers."
I stared at her.
"That's impossible."
"He says he has signed documents."
I shook my head.
"I never signed them."
The detective studied me.
"Then we may be looking at forgery."
I felt relief for half a second.
Then she continued.
"Unless someone can prove you knew."
I looked toward Charles.
He was standing beside a police car.
For years, I had considered that man a brother.
Now I understood he might be preparing to sacrifice me to save himself.
My phone vibrated again.
A text message from an unknown number.
It contained a photograph.
I opened it.
And nearly dropped the phone.
Margaret Reynolds was sitting in a dimly lit room.
She looked exhausted.
But alive.
Beneath the photograph were six words.
COME ALONE IF YOU WANT HER BACK.
May you like
A second message followed.
AND BRING THE ORIGINAL TRUST DEED.
