Chapter 6 - AUNT LINDA HAD BEEN WORKING BOTH SIDES
Linda did not deny it.
She surrendered to police in Wisconsin with the boxes still inside her SUV.
“I was trying to protect Daniel’s records.”
Maybe.
Then investigators opened boxes.
Not computers.
Paper ledgers.
Old trust documents.
Photographs.
She had removed them before Frederick or Adrian could.
How did she know basement raid coming?
She had received text from Frederick:
HANNAH BROUGHT MARQUETTI IN. CLEAR OLD BROOKS FILES.
So Frederick believed Linda worked for him.
She pretended.
For years.
Why?
To preserve evidence.
Again.
Dangerous secrecy.
But some results.
Linda had copied rent transfers.
Adrian payments.
Frederick skimming.
Colin Drake bribes.
Then one ledger:
D.B. INCIDENT.
My father.
Medical.
Adrian paid Dr. Owen Marks $40,000 two weeks before Dad died.
Marks was Dad’s cardiologist.
My stomach turned.
Could be legitimate consulting? Need evidence.
Then another payment after death:
$75,000.
Memo:
CLOSED.
Police reopened medical records.
Dad’s heart medication had been changed one week before death.
New dosage unusually high? Could cause arrhythmia? Let's avoid medical specificity. We can say investigators found discrepancy and possible improper medication management, not actionable.
Dr. Marks claimed clerical error.
Then toxicology? No autopsy.
No body exhumation maybe buried. Could exhume. Later.
Linda said Dad told her:
“Adrian bought the doctor.”
Proof uncertain.
Then why did Dad die?
Maybe medication manipulation.
Investigation started.
Then Linda admitted she knew Frederick hired me.
“Why didn’t you stop it?”
“I tried.”
“No.”
She sent anonymous letter when I was hired.
I remembered.
Plain envelope:
DON’T WORK AT HALE HOUSE.
I thought weird prank.
Threw away.
She called Dad’s old attorney.
No response.
Then watched.
Sent money? She had transferred small amounts to us anonymously during Eli’s accident.
I remembered mysterious $3,000 hospital bill credit.
Linda.
“You should have told me.”
“I was afraid.”
Everyone was afraid.
Then Salvatore signed something that surprised me:
FEAR DOES NOT MAKE HER INNOCENT.
Linda looked at him.
He continued:
BUT IT EXPLAINS WHY SHE CHOSE BADLY.
Exactly.
Then boxes contained original trust.
Warehouse ownership:
Hannah 60%.
Eli 40%.
I stared.
Dad left both of us property.
Why did Frederick hide Eli’s share too?
Because Eli was minor at Dad’s death.
Frederick held control.
At age twenty-one, Eli should have been informed.
He wasn’t.
He was twenty-two now.
More fiduciary breach.
Then one amendment.
If either child becomes “legally incapacitated” or convicted of felony, trustee can sell property.
Beneficiary after sale:
Brooks Family Preservation Fund.
Trustee:
Frederick.
My stomach dropped.
Maybe plan was to frame us?
My identity on basement accounts.
Eli hit-and-run.
If one or both discredited, Frederick could gain control.
Then Adrian wanted warehouse.
Frederick wanted trust.
They cooperated until greed diverged.
Why send me into Salvatore’s room?
Brett said Frederick wanted me humiliated into quitting because I started asking payroll questions.
But maybe more.
If I quit and later fraud surfaced, easier to paint me disgruntled ex-employee.
Then Salvatore arrived unexpectedly without interpreter due Brett’s sabotage.
Maybe Adrian also wanted Salvatore provoked.
Could a misunderstanding trigger conflict?
Brett admitted Adrian told him:
“Make sure Marquetti leaves angry.”
Why?
Perhaps create public incident.
If Salvatore threatened staff, Adrian could use police attention.
Instead I signed.
Ruined script.
One language choice collapsed their plan.
Then internal affairs suspended Colin Drake.
His devices revealed he had been tracking Salvatore and Eli.
Also me.
Photos outside community center where I studied ASL.
They knew I signed.
Wait.
If they knew, why send me to embarrass myself?
Maybe Brett did not know.
Adrian knew?
Message to Brett:
SEND QUIET GIRL.
Not “she signs.”
Maybe he wanted me in room for another reason.
Then Colin message:
IF HANNAH TALKS TO MARQUETTI, MOVE PHASE TWO.
Phase Two.
What?
Attachment:
ARREST PACKAGE.
My stomach turned.
Fake payroll.
Basement access.
Bank accounts.
Everything in my name.
They planned to have police “discover” I laundered money.
Who would arrest?
Colin.
He could control narrative.
When?
After private dinner.
If I connected with Salvatore, they would claim I was his inside contact.
Perfect.
Waitress secretly working with mafia boss.
Money accounts.
Basement access.
Then my ASL would become evidence of relationship.
They could say I had communicated secretly with him for years.
The skill I learned for Eli could be weaponized against me.
I felt sick.
Then Colin’s draft affidavit:
Hannah Brooks observed communicating privately with Salvatore Marquetti using coded hand signals.
Coded hand signals.
ASL.
My hands shook.
Salvatore read.
His face went hard.
He signed:
THEY WERE GOING TO TURN YOUR LANGUAGE INTO A CRIME.
Yes.
Then another page.
Source witness:
Brett Collins.
He had agreed to say I volunteered for Salvatore’s room and had been “obsessed” with him.
Brett started crying when confronted.
“I didn’t know they’d arrest you.”
Cowardice.
Again.
Then final attachment:
Controlled transfer.
$250,000 scheduled to account in my name tonight.
From one of Salvatore’s companies.
Fake transaction.
If completed, it would look like he paid me.
But account wasn’t really his.
Spoofed shell.
Then date:
11:30 p.m.
We had two hours.
Police froze transfer.
Good.
Then Salvatore’s attorney discovered source company.
Marquetti Holdings shell? No, fake.
Owner:
Marco Bell.
Salvatore’s missing interpreter.
I stopped breathing.
Marco had not simply been sent away.
His identity was being used too.
Where was he?
Phone off since fake cancellation.
Last location:
Parking garage near restaurant.
Security footage:
Marco entering an SUV.
Driver:
Adrian Vale.
Salvatore’s expression changed.
For first time, I saw fear.
Not anger.
Fear.
His interpreter, friend, maybe cousin? Let's make longtime friend.
Then he signed:
MARCO WOULD NEVER GET IN THAT CAR WILLINGLY.
May you like
The plot had moved again.
And now someone else was missing.
