Chapter 6 - THE TRUTH BEHIND THE CRIMSON DRESS
Noah had known the dress would attract attention.
He had planned for that.
But I didn't know why.
Until Maya explained.
She sat in a protected room with her father.
Her face was thinner than I remembered.
But she was alive.
That was enough.
“Noah found the dress,” she said.
“Why did you hide the memory card there?”
“Because nobody searched costumes.”
“What were you afraid of?”
“Everyone.”
She looked at Noah.
“Especially Mr. Bennett.”
Noah sat beside her.
“Tell Mom.”
Maya nodded.
“The night I disappeared, Bennett found out I had copied the database.”
“Then what happened?”
“He told me I was being expelled.”
“Were you?”
“No.”
“He wanted me frightened.”
“What did he say?”
“That my parents would lose everything if I talked.”
Maya's father clenched his fists.
“He threatened us.”
Maya continued.
“Then Daniel showed up.”
My heart tightened.
“What did he want?”
“To get the files.”
“Did he hurt you?”
“No.”
“He tried to help.”
She looked at Noah.
“He told me your mother was in danger.”
I stared.
“Why?”
“Because they knew who you were.”
“Who?”
“Daniel's partner.”
I frowned.
“What partner?”
Maya looked confused.
“You don't know?”
“No.”
“Daniel didn't work alone.”
She opened another file.
Inside were old photographs.
Daniel.
My father.
And another man.
Arthur Whitmore.
They had been working together decades earlier.
But then the photograph changed.
Daniel and my father were standing outside a courthouse.
Arthur was nowhere.
Maya said:
“Your father and Daniel tried to expose the foundation.”
“Why did they fail?”
“Because Arthur turned on them.”
I looked at Noah.
“Then why was Daniel still connected to him?”
“Because Daniel believed he could bring Arthur down from inside.”
The final piece fell into place.
The foundation had been built on stolen trust.
And Daniel had spent seventeen years gathering evidence.
But why Noah?
Maya answered.
“Because Daniel believed the safest place to hide evidence was with someone nobody would suspect.”
“His own son.”
Noah nodded.
He reached into the crimson dress.
He pulled out a second memory card.
I stared.
“You had this the whole time?”
“Yes.”
“Why didn't you give it to the police?”
“Because I didn't know which police officers could be trusted.”
That answer terrified me.
The detective assured us the case had been transferred to federal investigators.
Then the memory card was opened.
It contained a spreadsheet.
Payments.
Names.
Dates.
And one final column:
CONTROL.
Hundreds of students had been categorized.
Some were marked as scholarship risks.
Others as family liabilities.
Then we found a familiar name.
Mine.
Under CONTROL:
SINGLE MOTHER.
LOW INCOME.
NO FAMILY SUPPORT.
EASY TO PRESSURE.
I felt humiliated.
Then angry.
Noah reached for my hand.
“Mom.”
I squeezed his fingers.
“I know.”
Then we found his file.
It was different.
CONTROL:
HIGH.
REASON:
DANIEL REED.
EVIDENCE HOLDER.
I stared.
“What evidence?”
Noah looked at me.
“I think Dad left something for me.”
“What?”
He shook his head.
“I don't know.”
Then the detective's phone rang.
He listened.
His expression changed.
“What?”
He looked at us.
“Arthur Whitmore has been found.”
“Where?”
“In the school's old theater.”
“Is he alive?”
“Yes.”
“Then why do you look terrified?”
The detective lowered his phone.
“Because he asked for one person.”
“Who?”
“Noah.”
My son stood.
I grabbed his arm.
“You're not going anywhere alone.”
Arthur had asked to see him.
But the detective said one more thing.
“He claims he knows where Daniel Reed is.”
Noah looked at me.
May you like
For the first time in seventeen years, my son might finally meet his father.
But Arthur's next words would change everything.
