Chapter 5 - THE THREAT MY MOTHER HEARD
“What threat?”
I leaned across the diner table so quickly that my coffee spilled.
Patricia caught her portfolio before the liquid reached the photographs.
“Your mother said someone warned Thomas to stop interfering with Redstone's contract.”
“Who said it?”
Patricia shook her head.
“Celia wouldn't give me a name.”
“Why not?”
“She was frightened.”
My mother?
Frightened?
I couldn't imagine it.
Celia Bennett had been the kind of woman who stood up at school board meetings when she thought something was unfair.
She'd once confronted a contractor twice her size because he'd tried to charge an elderly neighbor for repairs he hadn't performed.
But Patricia was looking at me with such sadness that I knew she wasn't exaggerating.
“Mom told you she was afraid?”
“Yes.”
“Of Rebecca?”
“I don't know.”
Nolan reached for the photograph.
“Why didn't you mention this when I first contacted you?”
Patricia looked ashamed.
“Because I had no proof that the threat and the accident were connected. I was afraid of putting Audrey through more pain based on something Celia said in confidence.”
I sat back.
Five years.
For five years, people had kept pieces of my parents' lives away from me because they thought they were protecting me.
Nolan had done it.
Patricia had done it.
Rebecca had used that same excuse to explain nearly everything.
I was tired of being protected from the truth.
“I'm not a little girl,” I said.
Patricia's eyes filled.
“I know.”
“Then please stop treating me like one.”
She nodded.
“You're right.”
The apology was simple.
That made it mean something.
I looked at the photograph again.
Mom was sitting in the passenger seat, her face turned toward Rebecca.
She wasn't smiling.
Neither was Rebecca.
“What did my mother say after that meeting?”
Patricia thought for a moment.
“She said Thomas had underestimated someone.”
“Who?”
“She didn't tell me.”
I looked at Nolan.
“Can we find out who was at that facility?”
“We're working on it.”
“No. I mean everyone. Drivers. Employees. Security. Whoever took the photographs.”
Nolan nodded.
“That's exactly what we should do.”
For the first time, I wasn't merely waiting for somebody to rescue me.
I was asking the questions.
And I wanted answers.
Back at the house that afternoon, I began sorting through my parents' belongings.
Not searching wildly.
Not tearing apart drawers.
I made careful piles.
Photographs.
Receipts.
Letters.
Old calendars.
Anything that might explain the days before the accident.
Nolan stayed in the living room, examining digital copies of the documents.
Andrew had arranged for the originals to be professionally documented, but I still had access to scanned images.
Around three, I found Mom's old appointment calendar.
It was tucked inside a drawer beneath her sheet music.
The cover was blue.
A faded gold flower was printed on the front.
I remembered buying it for her one Christmas.
I opened it to the week before the accident.
Monday.
Piano lessons.
Tuesday.
Grocery shopping.
Wednesday.
Lunch with Rebecca.
Thursday.
Church choir.
Friday.
One word.
Thomas.
Beneath it was a time.
4:40.
The same time engraved on Dad's watch.
My stomach tightened.
But something else had been written below the appointment.
A small arrow pointed toward Saturday.
Beside it were the letters M.C.
I called Nolan over.
He studied the calendar.
“M.C.,” he repeated.
“Do those initials mean anything?”
He looked troubled.
“Maybe.”
“Tell me.”
“The former business associate who supplied Blake's recording is named Miles Carter.”
I stared at him.
“The man who recorded Blake?”
“Yes.”
“Could Mom have been planning to meet him?”
“Possibly. But we need to establish whether they knew each other.”
I looked at the calendar.
Mom had written the initials carefully.
Then she'd underlined them twice.
Whatever the appointment meant, it mattered.
Nolan took a photograph.
“We'll ask Miles.”
I followed him into the kitchen.
“Why did he give you the recording?”
Nolan stopped.
Until that moment, I hadn't considered the question.
Someone had secretly recorded my husband admitting he'd tricked me into signing away our home.
Why?
And why had that person waited so long to come forward?
“Miles used to handle financial arrangements for Blake's business ventures,” Nolan explained.
“What kind of ventures?”
“Short-term loans, contract consulting, equipment financing.”
“Were they legitimate?”
“Some were. Some are under investigation.”
I folded my arms.
“And Miles just decided to be helpful?”
“No.”
I waited.
Nolan looked me in the eye.
“He was afraid Blake would blame him for financial transactions connected to your house.”
“So he wanted protection?”
“Yes.”
The answer hurt.
I'd hoped someone had come forward because they thought what happened to me was wrong.
Instead, another man was trying to save himself.
Nolan seemed to understand.
“He still gave us important evidence.”
“I know.”
“But?”
“But I want to know whether he's telling the whole truth.”
Nolan nodded.
“So do I.”
That evening, Andrew arranged a meeting with Miles at his office.
Miles was in his early forties.
He wore a wrinkled blue shirt and kept rubbing his hands together.
The moment he saw me, he looked down.
“Mrs. Bennett.”
“Call me Audrey.”
He nodded.
I sat across from him.
“Why did you record my husband?”
Miles glanced at Andrew.
“Because I knew he'd eventually turn on me.”
“About the money?”
“Yes.”
I leaned forward.
“How much of it did you receive?”
His jaw tightened.
“About twenty thousand dollars in consulting fees.”
“For what?”
“Setting up accounts. Moving invoices through a company Blake controlled.”
“Did you know the house belonged to my parents?”
He hesitated.
“Yes.”
“Did you know Blake tricked me into transferring it?”
Another silence.
“Yes.”
I felt anger rise in my chest.
“You knew?”
Miles stared at the desk.
“I didn't know until after the deed was recorded.”
“And you did nothing?”
“I should have.”
I wanted to hate him.
Maybe part of me did.
But I forced myself to keep asking questions.
“Did you know my father?”
He looked up sharply.
“No.”
“Did you know my mother?”
His expression changed.
That was answer enough.
I placed the photograph of the appointment calendar in front of him.
“Then explain these initials.”
Miles stared at the picture.
His hands stopped moving.
“Where did you get that?”
“It belonged to my mother.”
He swallowed.
“I met Celia Bennett once.”
My heart hammered.
“When?”
“The day after the meeting at the storage facility.”
I looked at Nolan.
He was staring at Miles.
“Why didn't you tell us?” Nolan demanded.
Miles rubbed his forehead.
“Because I didn't know she was Audrey's mother until I saw her picture during your investigation.”
“What did she want?” I asked.
Miles took a slow breath.
“She asked me about a payment Redstone had made to a private consulting company.”
“What company?”
He hesitated.
“Sloan Advisory Services.”
Rebecca's company.
I felt sick.
“How much?”
“Four hundred thousand dollars.”
Andrew leaned forward.
“For what services?”
“There weren't any legitimate consulting services that I could verify.”
The room went quiet.
Miles continued.
“Celia thought Rebecca had been paid to keep certain maintenance reports from reaching the state transportation authorities.”
I stared at him.
“Did you confirm it?”
“I found irregular invoices. I couldn't confirm who authorized the payments.”
“Then what happened?”
Miles lowered his voice.
“I told her to be careful. I was afraid of the people handling that contract.”
I felt tears burning my eyes.
“My mother was trying to protect my father.”
“Yes.”
“And a few days later, they were dead.”
Miles looked miserable.
“I know.”
I stood.
I couldn't bear sitting across from him.
But just as I reached the office door, he spoke again.
“There's one thing you should know.”
I turned.
“Blake didn't originally agree to marry you.”
I stared at him.
“What?”
“Rebecca wanted him to gain access to the house. He refused at first.”
“Why?”
Miles swallowed.
“Because he knew who your father was.”
I looked at Nolan.
“What does that mean?”
Miles looked straight at me.
“Blake was the employee who processed the truck's release paperwork.”
I couldn't move.
“And he told Rebecca he'd never go near Thomas Bennett's family.”
My voice shook.
“Then why did he change his mind?”
Miles closed his eyes.
“Because Rebecca showed him a copy of a signed maintenance certification.”
“And?”
“Blake's name was on it.”
I stared at him.
May you like
Miles spoke quietly.
“She told him that if he didn't get control of your father's house, she'd make sure everyone believed he was responsible for the truck being on the road the night your parents died.”
