Chapter 11
The trust records named one more person.
My father.
Thomas Coleman.
He had been co-trustee before his death.
I went to his old storage unit with Ethan and Detective Harris.
Dad had never thrown anything away.
Boxes of tax files.
Tool kits.
Christmas decorations.
Then, behind a cabinet, we found a locked fireproof case.
Ethan knew the combination.
My mother’s birthday.
Inside was a letter addressed to me.
Ryan, if you are reading this, I failed to tell you in time.
My hands shook.
The letter explained that Claire’s father had uncovered a fraud network involving estate lawyers, private doctors, and court clerks.
Peter Lang was part of it.
Caroline had been useful to them because she was close to Claire.
My father had planned to expose them.
Then came the accident.
Then his “heart attack.”
At the bottom of the case was a flash drive.
Harris took it straight to cyber forensics.
I wanted to read everything immediately.
He wouldn’t let me.
Evidence had rules.
Grief did not.
Back at the hospital, Claire was stronger.
She sat by the window while the children napped.
“I remembered something,” she said.
I sat across from her.
“What?”
“You singing badly in the car.”
Despite everything, I smiled.
“Sounds accurate.”
“You were nervous,” she said. “We were going to tell your father I was pregnant again.”
“Noah.”
She nodded.
Then her face changed.
“There was another car.”
I leaned forward.
“Before the crash?”
“Yes. Black SUV. It hit us twice.”
I called Harris.
By evening, forensics recovered the first files from my father’s drive.
Photos.
Bank transfers.
Audio.
And one video from the night before the crash.
Peter Lang shaking hands with Caroline.
Behind them stood a doctor.
May you like
Dr. Samuel Voss.
The same neurologist who treated my memory loss.
