Chapter 5 - The Call From the Dead
Neither Hannah nor Mark touched the phone.
It kept vibrating.
The screen continued to glow.
DAD.
Mark looked at Hannah.
“This isn't possible.”
“No.”
“Maybe it's spoofed.”
“Probably.”
“But why use that name?”
“I don't know.”
The call stopped.
A second later, another one came.
Same name.
Same number.
Hannah looked toward the window.
No one was outside.
“Answer it,” she said.
Mark swallowed.
“Why?”
“Because someone wants you to.”
He picked up the phone.
“Hello?”
Static.
Then a man's voice.
Low.
Distorted.
“Mark.”
Mark froze.
Hannah's heart pounded.
“Who is this?”
The voice answered.
“You need to leave the house.”
Mark stepped backward.
“Who are you?”
“You're asking the wrong question.”
“What question should I ask?”
“Ask your mother why she signed the first transfer.”
The call ended.
Mark stared at the screen.
Hannah immediately said, “Call the number back.”
He did.
The call failed.
Again.
Nothing.
He tried the number manually.
Disconnected.
Mark dropped the phone onto the counter.
“My father died in a hospital.”
“I know.”
“I was there.”
“I know.”
“He was dead.”
“I believe you.”
“Then who was that?”
Hannah looked at the notebook.
“I don't know.”
They spent the next hour photographing every page.
There were financial records.
Dates.
Names.
Amounts.
Several pages were written in handwriting Hannah did not recognize.
The same sentence appeared multiple times.
I did not steal the money.
I took the blame because she said the family would be protected.
Mark sat at the kitchen table.
“Who is she?”
Hannah studied the page.
“Denise.”
“I know.”
“No.”
She pointed.
“There may be another woman.”
A name appeared in the margin.
Evelyn.
Mark frowned.
“Who is Evelyn?”
“I don't know.”
Another page contained a phone number beside the name.
Hannah searched the number.
Nothing.
Another page mentioned an account.
An offshore account.
Mark leaned back.
“This is way bigger than a house.”
“Yes.”
He looked at her.
“My mother is involved in something.”
“Maybe.”
“And she lied about twenty guests.”
“Yes.”
“And my uncle.”
“Yes.”
“And the house.”
“Yes.”
“What if she was trying to protect us?”
Hannah considered it.
“Then why did she lie to everyone?”
“I don't know.”
“And why did she ask people not to leave?”
Mark closed his eyes.
“I don't know.”
The next morning, they drove to Harold's office.
Hannah insisted on coming.
Mark didn't argue.
The office was old, quiet, and filled with books.
Harold was waiting.
He looked at Hannah, then Mark.
“You shouldn't have brought her.”
Mark said, “She's my wife.”
“I know.”
“She stays.”
Harold sighed.
“Very well.”
He pulled out a thick folder.
“This is what your father left.”
Mark opened it.
Inside were copies of bank statements.
Contracts.
Photographs.
And a letter.
He began reading.
His father had written it eleven years earlier.
The letter explained that money had disappeared from the family business.
He suspected Evan.
But he also suspected someone else.
The name was written three times.
Denise.
Mark's hands shook.
“Why would my dad suspect Mom?”
Harold answered quietly.
“Because he believed she had been pressured.”
“By whom?”
“That was never clear.”
Mark looked at another page.
A transaction list.
One transfer stood out.
$486,000.
The exact amount from the Thanksgiving document.
Mark stared.
“That amount.”
Harold nodded.
“We saw it years ago.”
“What does it mean?”
“We never found out.”
Hannah asked, “Where did the money go?”
Harold pointed at the page.
“An account opened under a trust name.”
“What trust?”
“The Carter Family Preservation Trust.”
Hannah felt a chill.
“That sounds like the agreement from last night.”
“It is.”
Mark sat back.
“So this has been planned for years.”
Harold nodded.
“Perhaps longer.”
“Who controls the trust?”
“No one officially.”
“What does that mean?”
“It was never fully funded.”
Hannah looked at the document.
“But someone is trying to revive it.”
“Yes.”
“Who?”
Harold looked at Mark.
“Your mother.”
Mark shook his head.
“She couldn't.”
“She could.”
“What would she gain?”
Harold hesitated.
“That depends on what happens to the property.”
Hannah leaned forward.
“Explain.”
“The trust could control assets.”
“Our house?”
“Yes.”
“If we signed?”
“You would effectively surrender control.”
Mark looked sick.
“And the twenty guests?”
Harold studied him.
“Why did she invite them?”
“We don't know.”
Harold tapped the document.
“Because pressure works better when witnesses are present.”
Hannah understood.
“She wanted us to feel trapped.”
Harold nodded.
“Likely.”
Mark lowered his head.
“She used my family.”
“Yes.”
“She used hers too.”
“Yes.”
Hannah looked at the papers.
“There’s still something missing.”
Harold raised an eyebrow.
“What?”
“The money.”
“What money?”
“The $486,000.”
She pointed.
“It was supposed to come from somewhere.”
Harold nodded.
“Correct.”
“Where?”
“We couldn't determine.”
She looked through the documents again.
Then she saw it.
A note attached to an old bank statement.
Payment from Northbridge Holdings.
Hannah looked at Harold.
“What is Northbridge?”
He frowned.
“A company.”
“Who owns it?”
“I don't know.”
Mark reached for his phone.
“Search it.”
Hannah did.
Northbridge Holdings existed.
It had been incorporated thirteen years earlier.
Its mailing address was a commercial building downtown.
The registered agent was a law office.
And the director's name was...
Evan Cole.
Mark stared.
“My uncle.”
Hannah shook her head.
“Wait.”
She scrolled further.
There was another corporate officer.
The name made her stomach drop.
Denise Carter.
Harold closed his eyes.
“Then you understand.”
Hannah looked at him.
“No.”
“I hoped you wouldn't find that.”
“Find what?”
Harold took a breath.
“Your mother-in-law wasn't trying to transfer the house to herself.”
“Then who?”
Harold looked at Mark.
“She was trying to satisfy the debt of Northbridge Holdings.”
Mark went pale.
“My uncle's company.”
“Yes.”
“So why would Mom be responsible?”
Harold looked at him.
“Because she signed as guarantor.”
Silence.
Mark's mouth opened.
No sound came out.
Hannah felt dizzy.
“Guarantor?”
“She guaranteed the debt.”
“For how much?”
Harold looked at the page.
“Just under half a million.”
Mark whispered, “That's why she wants the house.”
“Yes.”
“Why wouldn't she tell me?”
Harold looked away.
“Because your father discovered the debt before he died.”
Hannah's heart sank.
“And?”
Harold's face tightened.
“And he tried to stop it.”
“Did he?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because he was threatened.”
Mark stood.
“By whom?”
Harold didn't answer.
Mark slammed his hand on the desk.
“By whom?”
Harold finally looked at him.
“Your father told me the threat came from inside the family.”
The office became silent.
Hannah looked at Mark.
Mark looked at Harold.
Then Harold reached into another drawer.
He removed a sealed envelope.
“Your father told me never to open this unless one thing happened.”
“What thing?”
“The house was placed at risk.”
He handed it to Mark.
Mark stared at the handwriting.
His father's.
He opened the envelope.
Inside was a single photograph.
It showed his father, Denise, and Evan standing outside the family business.
But there was something else.
Another person stood just behind them.
A young woman.
Hannah leaned closer.
“Who is that?”
Mark stared at the photograph.
His face went blank.
“I don't know.”
Harold whispered, “You do.”
Mark shook his head.
“No.”
“Yes.”
“Who is she?”
Harold looked at him.
“Your sister.”
Mark stepped backward.
“My mother never had a daughter.”
May you like
Harold's voice was barely audible.
“That's what she told you.”
