Chapter 9 - THE FOUR APARTMENTS
Louise Grant's daughter remembered Trevor.
Edward Collins's nephew remembered him too.
Miriam Lowe's executor found checks written to Trevor from an account nobody in the family knew existed.
The same pattern repeated.
Friendly young neighbor.
Errands.
Paperwork.
Small loans.
Then larger transfers.
In two cases, changes to wills.
In one, an attempted property transfer.
My mother had noticed because she knew everyone in the building.
She was exactly the sort of neighbor I tried to be.
Watered plants.
Accepted packages.
Checked on people.
Trevor had mistaken kindness for invisibility.
He made the same mistake with me.
Detective Chen brought in financial-crimes investigators.
Trevor's old records were subpoenaed.
His father had taught him how to exploit vulnerable people.
Trevor had improved the system.
But one question remained.
Why return after fourteen years?
The safe-deposit box couldn't be the only reason.
Then investigators found a recent mortgage application.
Trevor had applied to purchase apartment 4B from Rebecca six months before moving in.
She rejected him.
So he rented.
Why want that specific unit so badly?
Rebecca remembered something.
“My father renovated the balcony himself.”
I looked up.
“What?”
“He built a storage cavity inside the outer wall.”
Trevor knew.
Of course he knew.
Police searched.
Behind a removable brick panel, they found a waterproof envelope.
Inside was Harold’s original will.
Not the later version Trevor had influenced.
The legitimate will left his estate to Rebecca.
And contained a statement:
Trevor Lang has attempted to pressure me regarding my property. He is to receive nothing.
That destroyed any remaining claim Trevor had.
But behind the will was something stranger.
A photograph of Trevor's father standing beside a young woman.
My mother.
I stared.
“Why was Margaret with his father?”
Rebecca turned it over.
Written on the back:
Frank Lang and Margaret Parker - 1978.
I felt dizzy.
My mother had known Trevor's father long before the building.
Before me.
Before Harold.
I called my aunt in Ohio.
She went silent when I mentioned Frank Lang.
Finally:
“Your mother dated him.”
My stomach dropped.
“For how long?”
“Two years.”
“What happened?”
“He became controlling.”
That word again.
“She left him before she met your father.”
I looked toward Detective Chen.
“Did Trevor know?”
My aunt hesitated.
“I don't know.”
Then she said:
“There was always a rumor Frank had a child with someone else around that time.”
I went still.
“How old is Trevor?”
Forty.
I was forty-six.
No connection.
At least not biological.
But Frank Lang had blamed my mother for leaving him.
Years later, his son entered the same building.
Did Trevor target Margaret because of Harold?
Or because Frank had taught him to hate her?
Police searched Trevor's computer.
They found emails between father and son.
Frank Lang was still alive.
Living in Florida.
One message, sent fourteen years earlier:
Margaret Parker thinks she can ruin us twice.
Another:
Find what she knows.
And finally:
If she won't give you the key, scare her.
Trevor replied:
What if she goes to police?
Frank wrote:
Then make sure she can't.
May you like
My mother’s death had not been a random escalation.
Trevor had been acting under his father's direction.
