Chapter 8 - THE MAID THEY TRIED TO MAKE GUILTY
“THAT ISN'T MY SIGNATURE!”
I stared at the demolition order on Samuel's telephone.
My name appeared beneath a statement authorizing entry into the dispatch annex.
According to the document, I had witnessed the removal of personal belongings and confirmed that nothing of value remained.
I had never visited that building.
I had never signed anything for Prescott Holdings.
And until tonight, I'd never even heard of Bay 14.
Adrian looked at me.
“I know.”
But Detective Bennett took the telephone and examined the image carefully.
“Someone used your name to create a witness.”
My hands began trembling.
“Why me?”
Bennett looked toward the ballroom.
“Because you were the person who found Frank.”
I understood.
Delilah wasn't satisfied with humiliating me.
She was trying to connect my name to the destruction of evidence.
If investigators later discovered that something had disappeared from the annex, I would be one of the first people questioned.
The maid.
The single mother.
The woman accused of breaking into the garage.
Delilah had already prepared the story.
Adrian's face hardened.
“She thought nobody would believe Natalie.”
I swallowed.
“For a while tonight, nobody did.”
He looked at me.
Something changed in his expression.
Not pity.
Shame.
“I'm sorry.”
I shook my head.
“Don't apologize for what Delilah did. Just make sure she can't do it again.”
Bennett arranged for officers to secure the freight yard.
She also had the demolition contractor preserve the original work order.
I provided handwriting samples and explained that I'd been at the estate throughout the evening.
Samuel located payroll records proving I'd never been assigned to any Prescott property.
By 3:10 a.m., investigators had entered the dispatch annex with the appropriate authorization.
The building was dusty and nearly empty.
Most of the furniture had been removed.
But against the back wall stood a row of old steel lockers.
One still had a brass lock.
The red ribbon attached to Brooke's key matched a faded strip tied around its handle.
I wasn't there when investigators opened it.
Bennett kept everyone informed from the estate.
Inside, they found a raincoat.
A small photograph.
A notebook.
And an ordinary cardboard box labeled CHRISTMAS DECORATIONS.
The box contained no ornaments.
Instead, it held handwritten inspection requests, copies of truck maintenance reports, and several envelopes addressed to Adrian.
Mara's handwriting covered the front of each one.
Adrian stared at the photographs Bennett sent.
“She wrote to me?”
“Yes,” Bennett answered.
“Why didn't I receive them?”
“The envelopes were never mailed.”
I looked at the dates.
They covered nearly three weeks before Mara died.
One envelope bore the words:
For Adrian, when I know who I can trust.
His face changed.
Bennett carefully photographed the contents before they were collected as evidence.
She read him one passage with his permission.
Adrian, I know you've made mistakes, but I still believe you can fix this. The drivers are afraid. They think nobody powerful enough to help them will listen. Please prove them wrong.
Adrian lowered his head.
For a moment, he seemed unable to breathe.
Then he whispered, “I wish she'd given me one more chance.”
I wanted to tell him that Mara had probably given him many chances.
But he already knew.
The most important evidence was found beneath the notebook.
A folded maintenance form.
Truck 14.
Brake inspection failed.
Vehicle not authorized for departure.
The form was dated the day Mara died.
It carried the signature of a certified mechanic named Harold Pike.
Beneath his signature was a second authorization.
DEPARTURE APPROVED — D. PRESCOTT.
Delilah.
Samuel shook his head.
“That's what she's been trying to destroy.”
But Bennett wasn't finished.
She compared the original form with the records obtained from Prescott Freight.
The company version had been altered.
The brake failure had disappeared.
The departure authorization now appeared under Adrian's name.
Someone had replaced Delilah's signature with a copied version of his.
Adrian stared at the evidence.
“She made it look like I ordered the truck out.”
Bennett nodded.
“And if the original never surfaced, you might have carried the blame.”
I looked toward the dark windows.
The sky was beginning to brighten.
But one question still troubled me.
“Why didn't Delilah simply destroy Mara's locker years ago?”
Brooke, who had been listening quietly, answered from the doorway.
“Because she couldn't find the key.”
Bennett turned toward her.
Brooke continued.
“Mara gave it to me. She said if anything happened, I should make sure the drivers got the truth.”
“And you waited five years?” Adrian asked.
Brooke began crying.
“I was afraid.”
Adrian looked away.
Bennett closed the evidence file.
“Fear explains silence,” she said. “It doesn't excuse it.”
Then Samuel received an update from the investigators.
The raincoat had a torn inner pocket.
Something had been sewn inside.
Not money.
Not jewelry.
A small strip of photographic negatives.
The images were damaged but readable.
One frame showed Mara beside the disabled truck.
Another showed Delilah arguing with Owen.
And the final frame showed a man standing beside Mara's white car.
Adrian leaned toward the screen.
“Who is that?”
Bennett enlarged the image.
The man's face was partially hidden.
But his jacket carried the Prescott Freight logo.
Brooke stared at it.
Then she whispered, “That's my father.”
Adrian turned slowly.
“Martin Prescott was there?”
Brooke nodded.
May you like
And finally revealed the detail she had been too frightened to admit.
“My father didn't just know what happened to Mara, Adrian. He was the one who decided she couldn't leave that freight yard.”
