Chapter 7 - THE STORAGE UNIT
We did not rush to the storage facility.
I wanted to.
Daniel definitely wanted to.
But wanting and thinking are different things.
We called counsel.
Counsel called law enforcement.
Elaine was the legal renter.
We could not simply open her unit because we had a key Trevor had apparently taken.
So we waited.
The wait lasted six hours.
It felt like six days.
By evening, investigators had enough to obtain access based on the potential connection to the old trust transfers and Sarah’s death.
Inside the unit were nineteen boxes.
Most contained ordinary belongings.
Sarah’s college notebooks.
Children’s books.
Photographs.
Christmas decorations.
A wedding dress sealed in plastic.
Daniel had to step outside when he saw it.
I stayed.
Not because I was stronger.
Because someone needed to watch the evidence log.
Box twelve contained financial records.
Box thirteen contained printed emails.
Box fourteen contained three external hard drives.
And box fifteen contained a handwritten notebook.
Sarah’s.
The final entries were from the week she died.
I did not read them alone.
Daniel sat beside me in an interview room while an investigator turned the pages.
Sarah had been tracking Noah’s trust.
She suspected Preston.
Then her notes changed.
Preston may not know.
That sentence appeared twice.
Three days later:
E. says I’m overreacting. She helped design the transfers but says Martin changed purpose codes.
E.
Elaine.
Then:
Martin met P without board approval.
Martin had to be the controller.
Sarah believed Elaine designed a transfer structure for Preston’s developments, but Martin Cole may have repurposed it to divert trust funds.
Complicated.
Messy.
Real.
Not a cartoon conspiracy.
Then the last full page.
Daniel trusts family too much.
I almost laughed despite the tension.
Sarah and I would have gotten along.
She continued:
If anything happens to me, do not let Elaine manage Noah’s money.
Daniel covered his mouth.
The final line:
She thinks because she is my sister, I will protect her.
No more.
Daniel whispered:
“Sarah was going to expose Elaine.”
The investigator turned another page.
Blank.
Then an envelope fell out.
On the front:
FOR DANIEL — ONLY IF I DON’T COME HOME.
He opened it with shaking hands.
Inside was a letter.
Daniel,
If you’re reading this because I am dead, do not assume Preston did it.
I watched his face.
Sarah continued:
Preston is greedy, arrogant, and reckless. But Elaine is afraid.
Fear makes people more dangerous than greed.
The letter explained that Elaine had developed financial structures for Mercer Holdings years earlier.
She helped Preston move capital quickly between entities.
Martin later used those structures to siphon money.
Sarah discovered it.
Elaine begged her to stay quiet because exposing the system would destroy her career and potentially implicate her.
Then came the line that changed everything.
Elaine knows why my brakes are failing.
Daniel stopped breathing.
Not failed.
Failing.
Sarah had noticed something before the crash.
She had written that her brake pedal felt soft twice that week.
She planned to take the SUV to a mechanic Monday.
She died Sunday night.
Daniel stood abruptly.
I grabbed his arm.
“Don’t.”
“She knew.”
“Yes.”
“She knew her car was wrong.”
“Yes.”
“And Elaine knew.”
“We still don’t know why.”
Then an investigator opened the final item in the box.
A sealed dealership service envelope.
Inside was a repair estimate dated four days before Sarah died.
BRAKE LINE DAMAGE — VEHICLE UNSAFE TO DRIVE.
Customer declined repair.
Daniel stared.
“Sarah would never decline that.”
The service signature looked like hers.
I examined it.
Then felt every hair on my arms rise.
I knew signatures.
That one was wrong.
Not obviously.
Professionally wrong.
Someone had forged Sarah’s name.
Before I could say it, the investigator’s phone rang.
He listened.
Then looked at us.
“Elaine Porter just tried to board a flight to Montreal.”
Daniel stood.
“Did you stop her?”
“Yes.”
Relief lasted one second.
Then:
“But she wasn’t alone.”
“Who was with her?”
May you like
The investigator answered:
“Preston Mercer.”
