Chapter 8
The man's name was Robert Hayes.
For nearly twenty years, Robert had worked with my late husband, James, in a property investment business. He had attended birthdays, holiday dinners, and family celebrations. After James died, he helped me understand several complicated business records.
I had trusted him.
That trust had begun to weaken two years earlier, when I discovered discrepancies in an old property account. Robert had explained them as administrative errors, and I had accepted his explanation because I lacked evidence of wrongdoing.
Now, with the investigators examining suspicious access requests, I wondered whether I had been too generous.
Daniel arranged a meeting with me and Marcus.
He brought copies of the records that had prompted the investigation.
“These documents show that someone attempted to obtain information about your properties using details associated with the former business,” he explained. “We are still determining how the information was obtained and who used it.”
Marcus studied the papers.
“Could Robert have given Derek the information?”
“It's possible, but we cannot treat possibility as proof.”
I nodded.
“Then we will not accuse him without evidence.”
I had learned that lesson the hard way.
Anger made people eager to find a villain. Evidence was what separated justice from revenge.
That afternoon, Marcus and I met the investigators through Daniel.
They asked about my financial arrangements, the lake house, and Vanessa's access to family documents.
I answered every question honestly.
Marcus explained that he had never authorized his wife to act on my behalf.
When they asked whether Vanessa had ever discussed my estate, he admitted that she had repeatedly suggested I was too old to manage everything alone.
Afterward, he looked ashamed.
“I should have told you how often she brought it up.”
“You thought she was worried about me.”
“I wanted to believe that.”
“So did I.”
We returned home and found an envelope waiting in the mailbox.
There was no return address.
Inside was a photocopy of a handwritten note.
The message was brief.
ASK EVELYN WHAT REALLY HAPPENED TO JAMES'S LAST INVESTMENT.
Marcus read it twice.
“What does this mean?”
My hands went cold.
James had died five years earlier. His death had been sudden, caused by a medical emergency that no one had anticipated.
His last investment had been a commercial property development that had collapsed financially shortly before he died.
We had lost money, but I had believed the matter was settled.
I handed the note to Daniel when he arrived.
He examined it without touching the original more than necessary.
“This could be a genuine lead, a threat, or an attempt to distract us. We'll preserve it and let the investigators assess it.”
Marcus turned toward me.
“Mom, was there something about Dad's last investment you never told me?”
I struggled to answer.
There was one thing.
A week before James died, he had told me he suspected someone was diverting money from the business. He planned to meet with his accountant and review the records.
He died before that meeting took place.
I had mentioned his concern to Robert, who assured me the accounts were being examined.
I had never told Marcus because I had no evidence, and I didn't want to burden him with suspicions about his father's colleagues.
Now I wondered whether my silence had allowed something important to remain hidden.
“I should have told you about your father's concern,” I admitted.
Marcus looked hurt.
“Why didn't you?”
“Because I was grieving, and I wanted to believe the business problems were ordinary mistakes. I didn't want to turn your father's memory into an investigation based on suspicion.”
He took my hand.
“You were trying to protect me.”
“Yes.”
“But I wish we had faced it together.”
“So do I.”
That evening, Daniel informed us that investigators had located records relating to the old investment. They were requesting further documents from the former business partners.
No conclusion had been reached.
Still, the note had reopened a question I thought I had buried.
The next morning, Vanessa appeared at my door.
She looked tired and frightened, but she stood straight.
“I know you may not want to see me,” she said. “I came because I found something that might help.”
Marcus stood beside me.
“What is it?”
Vanessa held out a sealed folder.
“I kept copies of the messages Derek sent me. I thought they might protect me if he turned against me.”
“And now you're giving them to Daniel?” I asked.
She nodded.
“Yes. I'm done hiding things.”
Marcus accepted the folder but did not invite her inside.
“Why should we believe you?”
“You shouldn't have to believe me. You should examine the evidence.”
It was the right answer.
For the first time, Vanessa seemed to understand that trust was not something she could demand.
Before leaving, she looked at me.
“I am sorry about your birthday.”
I studied her face.
“I hope you eventually understand why what you did was wrong.”
“I do.”
She walked down the steps.
Marcus opened the folder.
Inside was a printed message from Derek.
One sentence had been underlined.
YOUR FAMILY'S OLD BUSINESS RECORDS ARE WORTH MORE THAN YOU THINK.
May you like
Marcus looked at me.
“Mom, I think Dad's missing money and Vanessa's debt may be connected.”
