Chapter 5 - ELSIE'S MOTHER HAD TAKEN MONEY
Beth Warren received money.
That looked terrible.
It was not the full story.
We learned that by breakfast.
The payment ledger showed monthly deposits into an account labeled BW.
But bank subpoenas from the old case revealed Beth never received them.
The account belonged to a vendor:
Brightwell Youth Services.
B.W.
Not Beth Warren.
Again, initials designed to mislead.
Brightwell ran temporary housing programs funded by the Voss Foundation.
Its director:
Thomas Kerr.
Harlan looked at Victor.
“You let a fired security employee run a foundation vendor?”
Victor looked furious.
“I didn’t.”
“Harlan,” Rachel said.
“Brightwell was approved by Leonard Pryce.”
Dead CFO.
Layers.
Always layers.
Then an analyst found something.
Brightwell had shut down six months after Elsie disappeared.
One property remained.
Abandoned youth residence near Pontiac.
We went with police.
Not alone.
Not like movie heroes.
The building smelled like mold and old heat.
No children.
No current occupancy.
But inside an office closet, investigators found boxes.
Foundation files.
Old staff rosters.
Photographs.
Then a wall panel.
Behind it:
Butterfly clips.
Dozens.
Blue.
Pink.
Yellow.
Each with silver stars underneath.
My stomach twisted.
“What were these?”
Rachel whispered:
“Program markers.”
Brightwell used colored clips to identify children in certain donor-photo events.
Blue for cardiac support families.
Elsie had received one.
Why had one appeared beside Belle?
Someone wanted Harlan to connect the cases.
Not hide them.
That changed everything.
“This isn’t just a copy,” I said.
Harlan looked at me.
“It’s a message.”
“Yes.”
“From who?”
Maybe someone trying to expose Thomas.
Maybe someone inside his group.
Then police found a recent coffee cup.
Fresh enough for DNA.
And a sleeping bag.
Someone had been using the building.
Then my phone buzzed again.
Unknown number.
YOU FOUND THE WALL.
I showed Harlan.
Another message:
NOW ASK WHY HARLAN NEVER TOLD YOU ABOUT YOUR FATHER.
My body went cold.
I turned toward him slowly.
“You knew my father too?”
Harlan did not answer.
Again.
That silence.
“Harlan.”
He looked at the floor.
“My mother told me your father disappeared before you were born.”
“He didn’t disappear.”
My pulse raced.
“What does that mean?”
“His name was Owen Callaway.”
I knew that.
“He died when you were three.”
I stopped breathing.
“No.”
Mom told me he left.
She said he never came back.
Harlan continued.
“He worked security for my father.”
“What?”
“And?”
“He was killed in a warehouse accident.”
I stared at him.
“You knew this?”
“I found out after your mother’s Elsie statement.”
“Why didn’t anyone tell me?”
“You were a teenager.”
The answer made me furious.
“So everyone decided I couldn’t handle my own life?”
“Yes.”
Harlan did not defend it.
That almost made it worse.
Then Victor found an old photograph in the Brightwell box.
My father.
Owen Callaway.
Standing beside Harlan’s father.
And Thomas Kerr.
On the back, someone had written:
OWEN FOUND THE FIRST LEDGER.
I looked at Harlan.
“My mother wasn’t the first Callaway to find payments.”
“No.”
May you like
My father had discovered the same financial trail years before Elsie disappeared.
And he died before he could expose it.
