Chapter 8 - MY FATHER’S SECOND LIFE
Dad denied kidnapping Rebecca.
Immediately.
Loudly.
Repeatedly.
He removed the ring and placed it on the hospital table.
“I’ve had this since college.”
Rebecca stared.
“I said the ring looked like that. I didn’t say it was definitely him.”
That distinction kept Dad out of handcuffs.
For the moment.
But detectives asked him to come in voluntarily.
He agreed.
Then Mom did something strange.
She tried to leave.
Claire noticed first.
“Margaret?”
Mom froze.
“Where are you going?”
“Home.”
“Why?”
“I can’t do this.”
I stood.
“You can’t leave.”
“Sierra.”
“Every time we discover something, somebody in this family says they can’t do this.”
Her face crumpled.
“I lied.”
Of course.
“What about?”
“The picture.”
Dad stared.
“You know where it came from.”
“Yes.”
“Mom.”
She began crying.
“I took it.”
“When?”
“Ten years ago.”
“Why?”
“Because I followed your father.”
Dad closed his eyes.
There it was.
Mom had suspected Dad was meeting Graham Warren after his release.
She followed him to a private club.
Photographed them together.
Then confronted Dad.
He claimed Graham wanted to settle an old financial dispute.
“What dispute?” I asked.
Mom looked at Dad.
He answered.
“Your grandfather kept money.”
I frowned.
“From Graham?”
“Yes.”
“How much?”
“About two million dollars in the early nineties.”
“Dirty money?”
“Probably.”
“Grandpa kept it?”
“He transferred it into family trusts.”
My stomach dropped.
“Our money came from Walsh?”
“Some of it.”
How much of my childhood security came from criminal money?
Grandpa had testified against Graham.
But before doing so, he apparently kept funds Graham had routed through the trucking company.
“He called it reimbursement,” Dad said.
“For what?”
“Risks. Legal fees. Damage.”
“That sounds like theft.”
“Yes.”
At least we were done pretending.
Graham came back years later wanting repayment.
Grandpa refused.
After Grandpa died, Graham approached Dad.
Dad paid him secretly.
“With whose money?”
He looked ashamed.
“Mine.”
“How much?”
“Eight hundred thousand.”
“And when yours ran out?”
Silence.
“My account.”
“A little.”
“How much?”
“About one hundred fifty thousand.”
My hands curled.
“And the rest?”
“Dalton began losing money around the same time.”
Everything overlapped.
Dad had been feeding two disasters.
Graham.
Dalton.
Then he used my account to cover both.
“Why did Nicole appear?”
Dad whispered:
“Graham sent her.”
Silence.
There it was.
Nicole had never accidentally joined Northgate.
Graham arranged her employment.
She got assigned to our family.
Collected financial information.
Then later dated Dalton.
“Did she love him?”
Mom whispered:
“I think eventually.”
That somehow made it worse.
A plan can become real without becoming innocent.
Dad continued.
“Graham wanted the house because he believed your grandfather hid remaining records there.”
“He was right.”
“Yes.”
“And Nicole’s job was to get control.”
“Probably.”
“Then why marry Dalton instead of buying the house?”
“Because you would never have sold to Warren.”
True.
“But if Dalton inherited?”
“Yes.”
There it was.
Marriage gave Nicole proximity to the beneficiary.
My death gave Dalton the house.
Marriage gave Nicole access to Dalton.
The structure wasn’t complicated.
It was patient.
I felt nauseated.
“Did Graham plan to kill me?”
Dad shook his head.
“I don’t know.”
“You saw the accident folder.”
“Yes.”
“Were you involved?”
“No.”
“Did you know Nicole had my medical information?”
“No.”
“Did you know she had my will?”
“Yes.”
I stepped back.
“You knew.”
“I knew she had seen it during Northgate.”
“And you still let her near Dalton.”
“I thought Graham wanted leverage, not blood.”
“How many times can one man be wrong before it becomes a choice?”
Dad looked destroyed.
I didn’t care.
Then detectives entered.
They had found Graham Warren.
Not fleeing.
Not hiding.
At his attorney’s office.
He wanted to surrender.
Voluntarily.
That didn’t make sense.
People do not build thirty-year revenge schemes and then politely surrender.
Unless the surrender serves something.
His attorney delivered one message.
Graham would cooperate fully regarding Nicole, the forged deed, the surveillance, the kidnapping operation, and Bennett family finances.
In exchange, he wanted one thing.
A meeting with me.
Claire said no.
Police said maybe later.
I said yes.
Not alone.
Not privately.
Recorded.
With attorneys.
Graham entered the interview room the next afternoon.
Seventy-one.
Expensive gray suit.
Calm eyes.
He looked at me for a long time.
“You look like Evelyn.”
I frowned.
“Who?”
He smiled sadly.
“Your grandmother.”
“Why did you target me?”
“I didn’t.”
I laughed.
“Photos. Accident research. Forged documents.”
“Nicole.”
“Your daughter.”
“Yes.”
“You sent her.”
“Originally.”
“For the house.”
“Yes.”
“And then?”
“She stopped following instructions.”
My chest tightened.
“What were your instructions?”
“Find the Bennett records. Recover what your grandfather took. Get out.”
“Not marry Dalton.”
“No.”
“Not steal my money.”
“No.”
“Not plan accidents.”
“No.”
“Convenient.”
“It is also true.”
“Then why kidnap Rebecca?”
“I didn’t.”
“Your people?”
“No.”
“Who?”
Graham leaned back.
“Robert.”
My father.
I stared.
“No.”
“Your father has been paying men to scare people for years.”
“Why?”
“Because he owes more money than you know.”
“How much?”
“Not to me.”
“Then who?”
Graham smiled faintly.
“That is the problem your family still hasn’t found.”
He slid a photograph across the table.
My father.
A younger Dalton.
And three men I didn’t recognize.
Casino chips on the table.
Date stamp:
Seven years ago.
Dalton would have been nineteen.
“You said Dalton’s gambling started five years ago.”
“It started at nineteen.”
My throat tightened.
“Who introduced him?”
Graham tapped the photograph.
“Your father.”
I stopped breathing.
Then he said:
“Robert didn’t drain your accounts because he was saving Dalton.”
“What?”
“He drained them because Dalton knew where the money was really going.”
The room went silent.
“Where?”
Graham looked directly at me.
“To the woman your father has been supporting for twenty-seven years.”
I laughed in disbelief.
“What woman?”
May you like
He answered:
“His other wife.”
