Chapter 4 - The Room No One Used
Hannah grabbed the flashlight from the kitchen drawer.
Mark followed her up the stairs.
The hallway was dark except for the soft glow from a night-light near the bathroom.
The open door was at the end of the hall.
It led to the guest room.
The room Denise had used during previous holidays.
Hannah had closed it earlier that afternoon.
She knew she had.
She had put extra blankets on the bed and shut the door.
Now it was open six inches.
Mark whispered, “Did you lock it?”
“No.”
“You didn't.”
“No.”
He pushed the door open.
The room looked untouched at first.
Then Hannah saw the dresser.
One drawer was open.
She walked toward it.
Inside were neatly folded sheets.
Nothing else.
Mark checked the closet.
Empty.
“Maybe a draft.”
“There isn't a draft.”
Hannah noticed something on the floor.
A tiny piece of paper.
She picked it up.
A handwritten number.
47.
“That means nothing,” Mark said.
“It might.”
She looked around.
Then she saw the wall safe.
She had never known it was there.
A small metal panel was partially hidden behind a framed landscape.
Mark stared.
“What is that?”
“I don't know.”
He moved the picture.
There was a keypad.
Hannah's heart raced.
“Does your mother have a code?”
“Probably.”
He tried the date of Denise’s birthday.
Nothing.
He tried his father's birthday.
Nothing.
Hannah stared at the number she had found.
47.
She entered 4747.
The lock clicked.
They both froze.
The safe opened.
Inside was a thick folder.
And a key.
Nothing else.
Hannah lifted the folder.
The first page contained another property document.
But this one was dated 2008.
The original purchase agreement.
The buyer was Denise Carter.
The seller's name made Mark gasp.
“That's Grandpa.”
Hannah looked at him.
“Your grandfather sold it to your mother?”
Mark nodded.
“He owned this place.”
“Before your mother?”
“Yes.”
“Then why did she buy it?”
Mark stared at the document.
“I don't know.”
There was a handwritten note attached.
Property to remain in family.
Transfer restricted without written consent.
Mark's breathing changed.
“What does that mean?”
Hannah scanned the page.
“I don't know.”
Another document.
A private loan agreement.
The lender was Evan Cole.
The borrower was Denise Carter.
The amount was $210,000.
Date: three years ago.
Mark looked stunned.
“Three years?”
“She has been borrowing from your uncle.”
“Why?”
Hannah flipped through more papers.
Medical invoices.
Business losses.
Credit statements.
Then an email.
Evan wrote:
If you cannot repay the loan, the property will satisfy the debt.
Hannah looked at Mark.
“He wanted the house.”
“No.”
“Maybe.”
“No.”
Mark shook his head.
“My grandfather wouldn't allow that.”
“Maybe he already did.”
Mark grabbed the document.
His eyes moved rapidly.
“Wait.”
“What?”
“This isn't the original signature.”
He pointed.
“My grandfather's signature.”
“You know it?”
“Yes.”
“What about it?”
“The last letter.”
He touched the page.
“His signature always curled here.”
Hannah looked closer.
“Maybe he wrote it differently.”
“No.”
Mark shook his head.
“I grew up seeing his handwriting.”
He reached for his phone.
“I'm calling someone.”
“Who?”
“My father's old attorney.”
It took three attempts before the man answered.
His name was Harold Bennett.
Mark put the call on speaker.
“Harold?”
A tired voice answered.
“Mark?”
“I need to ask you something.”
“What happened?”
“Do you remember my grandfather's property?”
A pause.
“Yes.”
“The house on Willow Ridge.”
Another pause.
“Yes.”
“Did he sell it to my mother?”
Silence.
Then Harold asked:
“Why are you asking?”
“Because we found documents.”
“Where?”
“In the house.”
Harold exhaled.
“Then you need to stop looking through them and bring them to me.”
Mark looked at Hannah.
“Why?”
“Because there was a dispute.”
“What kind?”
“I thought it was settled.”
“What dispute?”
Harold lowered his voice.
“Your father believed your mother had transferred money without authorization.”
Hannah looked at Mark.
“From where?”
“The family business.”
“How much?”
Harold paused.
“Enough to cause serious problems.”
Mark sat on the edge of the bed.
“My uncle Evan.”
Harold was silent.
“You know about him?”
“Yes.”
“Did he take money?”
“I can't answer that.”
“Why?”
“Because some records disappeared.”
“From where?”
“The business.”
Mark stared ahead.
“Who had access?”
Harold sighed.
“Mark, there are things you were never told.”
Hannah felt a cold pressure in her chest.
“Could the house have been used as collateral?”
Harold paused.
“Yes.”
Mark looked at Hannah.
“For what?”
Harold answered carefully.
“Debts connected to the business.”
Mark stood.
“My mother has been trying to transfer our house.”
“I understand.”
“She says it's for the family.”
Harold was silent again.
Then he said something neither of them expected.
“She may not be acting for herself.”
Hannah's skin prickled.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean your mother once told me someone was forcing her to repay a debt she didn't believe she owed.”
“Who?”
“I don't know.”
“You knew my father.”
“I did.”
“Was he involved?”
“Yes.”
“Did he know Evan?”
“Yes.”
“Did my father ever say Evan stole money?”
Harold sighed.
“Yes.”
“Did he have proof?”
“I believe he did.”
“Where is it?”
Another silence.
“I don't know.”
Mark's voice broke.
“Harold, please.”
“I have one thing for you.”
“What?”
“A file your father gave me before he died.”
Mark straightened.
“You have it?”
“Yes.”
“Why didn't you tell me?”
“Because your father asked me not to.”
“Why?”
“He said you weren't ready.”
“Ready for what?”
Harold's answer came slowly.
“To know who he believed betrayed him.”
The line went dead.
Mark stood frozen.
Hannah stared at him.
“You need to call him back.”
Mark did.
No answer.
He called again.
Still nothing.
Then his phone buzzed.
A text from Harold.
Tomorrow morning. 9 a.m. Come alone.
Hannah frowned.
“Come alone?”
Mark looked at her.
“I can't.”
“Then don't.”
“You think I should go.”
“Yes.”
“Without you?”
“I don't know.”
She looked toward the safe.
“No.”
“What?”
“We don't go anywhere alone.”
Mark nodded.
Suddenly, footsteps sounded downstairs.
Both froze.
Hannah grabbed the flashlight.
“Did you hear that?”
“Yes.”
Someone was walking through the kitchen.
Slowly.
Deliberately.
Mark moved toward the staircase.
“Who's here?”
No answer.
He stepped down two stairs.
Then another.
Hannah followed.
The kitchen was empty.
The back door was open.
Snow blew inside.
Mark rushed to close it.
Hannah looked down.
There were footprints in the snow.
Fresh ones.
Leading away from the house.
And beside the footprints was another object.
A small black notebook.
She picked it up.
The cover had one word embossed in silver.
Evan.
Mark stared.
His uncle's name.
Hannah opened the first page.
There was a single sentence.
I did not steal the money.
I was paid to take the blame.
Hannah turned the page.
A list of dates.
A series of bank transfers.
And one name repeated again and again.
Denise.
Mark's knees nearly gave out.
But before they could read further, the notebook suddenly vibrated.
There was a phone hidden inside the cover.
It was ringing.
The screen displayed one word.
CALLER: DAD
Mark stared at it.
May you like
His father's name appeared on the screen.
A name connected to a man who had been dead for eleven years.
