Chapter 10 - THE NOTEBOOK THAT HELD TWENTY YEARS OF LIES
The black notebook was smaller than I remembered.
Its cover was worn.
The corners were bent.
And inside the front page, my father had written:
For Evelyn, when she's old enough to understand.
My hands shook as I opened it.
Pages of numbers.
Names.
Dates.
Addresses.
At first, nothing made sense.
Then I saw a name.
Marcus Vale.
Another.
Diane Walsh.
And another.
Derek Walsh's father.
Robert Walsh.
My stomach tightened.
Ryan leaned closer.
“That's my dad.”
I looked at him.
Robert had died five years earlier.
According to the family, he'd suffered a heart attack.
But his name appeared repeatedly in my father's notebook.
Beside large financial transfers.
And notes about falsified medical equipment invoices.
“Your father was involved?” I whispered.
Ryan looked stunned.
“I don't know.”
I turned another page.
A handwritten note appeared.
Robert wants out. Diane won't let him.
Ryan's face drained of color.
“My parents used to fight about money.”
I looked at him.
“What kind of fights?”
“Dad said Mom was getting involved with dangerous investors.”
He swallowed.
“I thought it was about the family business.”
The notebook contained years of evidence.
Payments.
Contracts.
Names of athletes.
And detailed notes about suspicious medical testing.
My father had been gathering information long before Samantha died.
Then I reached the final page.
A small photograph was tucked inside.
It showed my father standing beside a young woman.
She looked frightened.
I recognized her immediately.
Dr. Helen Brooks.
The physician who had worked at Marcus's training facility.
On the back of the photograph, my father had written:
Helen has the original records.
My heart raced.
We contacted Detective Mitchell.
He arranged a secure meeting with Dr. Brooks.
When she saw the notebook, she began crying.
“Thomas kept it.”
I stared at her.
“You knew my father?”
She nodded.
“He saved my life.”
My knees weakened.
“What happened to him?”
Helen looked toward the detective.
“He discovered that Marcus was planning to destroy evidence. Thomas tried to warn me.”
I held my breath.
“And then?”
“He was taken.”
I covered my mouth.
“By whom?”
“Men working for Marcus.”
My voice broke.
“Was he killed?”
Helen shook her head.
“I don't know.”
Hope and terror crashed together inside me.
Then Helen reached into her handbag.
She removed an old photograph.
A man stood outside a small cabin.
Gray hair.
A beard.
A familiar smile.
My father.
The photograph was dated three months earlier.
I started crying.
“That's him.”
Helen nodded.
“He's alive, Evelyn.”
My knees nearly gave way.
“Where?”
Helen hesitated.
“He's been hiding in northern Wisconsin.”
May you like
Then she whispered:
“And he's been protecting Daniel Reed.”
