Chapter 8 - The Child Donald Never Told Me AboutI couldn't speak.
“What did you say?”
Harold's face had gone pale.
“I shouldn't have told you this.”
“You're going to tell me everything.”
“Donald had a son.”
I shook my head.
“No.”
“A child from before your marriage.”
“That isn't possible.”
“I know you had no reason to know.”
“Who is he?”
Harold hesitated.
“His name is Michael.”
I sat down.
“Where is he?”
“We don't know.”
“You're lying.”
“No.”
“Why would Donald hide a son from me?”
“Because Michael disappeared.”
“When?”
“Twenty-seven years ago.”
I stared at him.
“What happened?”
“Michael was involved with some people Donald believed were dangerous.”
“What people?”
“The same network connected to Thomas.”
My hands went cold.
“So this started before Stephanie?”
“Yes.”
“Then Donald knew about them for decades.”
“That's why he built the trust.”
I thought about my husband.
Quiet.
Careful.
Always checking locks.
Always telling me not to sign things.
I had thought it was old age.
Maybe it had been fear.
Harold continued.
“Michael contacted Donald shortly before he disappeared.”
“What did he say?”
“He claimed he had evidence.”
“What evidence?”
“Something connected to the money network.”
“And Donald hid it?”
“No.”
Harold looked at me.
“He hid Michael.”
I stared.
“Michael lived?”
“For a while.”
“Where?”
“I don't know.”
Then Harold's computer beeped.
He checked the screen.
His expression changed.
“What?”
“Someone accessed the trust.”
“When?”
“Five minutes ago.”
“Can they take the money?”
“No.”
“Then what can they do?”
“They can trigger the contingency.”
“What contingency?”
Harold stood.
“We need to leave.”
“Why?”
“The trust has a dead-man clause.”
I stared at him.
“What does that mean?”
“If someone tries to force the account open, certain information is automatically released.”
“To whom?”
“Law enforcement.”
“That sounds good.”
“It would be.”
He turned off the lights.
“Except the information includes evidence of crimes.”
“What crimes?”
“Financial crimes.”
“Whose?”
“Everyone involved.”
“David?”
“Yes.”
“Stephanie?”
Harold hesitated.
“Possibly.”
I closed my eyes.
My daughter was trapped inside something enormous.
Then Harold said something that shattered me.
“Michael's name just appeared in the access log.”
My eyes snapped open.
“But you said he was missing.”
“He was.”
“Then who's accessing the trust?”
Harold stared at the computer.
“We need to find out.”
Suddenly, his phone rang.
He answered.
“Hello?”
Silence.
Then he looked at me.
“What?”
His face went white.
“Say that again.”
A voice on the other end spoke.
Harold slowly lowered the phone.
“What happened?”
He swallowed.
“They found Stephanie.”
“Alive?”
“Yes.”
“Where?”
Harold looked at me.
“At the hospital.”
“Is she hurt?”
“Badly.”
My stomach dropped.
“What happened?”
He hesitated.
“She was hit by a car.”
I grabbed my coat.
“We're going.”
At the hospital, Stephanie was unconscious.
Her face was bruised.
One arm was in a cast.
Machines beeped beside her.
I stood by the bed.
She looked smaller than I remembered.
Fragile.
Human.
I reached for her hand.
“Stephanie.”
Her eyes fluttered.
“Mom?”
“I'm here.”
She swallowed.
“You shouldn't be here.”
“I am.”
She looked around.
“Did they follow you?”
“No.”
She stared at me.
“That's what they want you to think.”
“What happened?”
“Thomas.”
“What did he want?”
She struggled to speak.
“The key.”
I felt the brass key in my pocket.
“What key?”
Her eyes widened.
“You found it.”
“How do you know?”
“Dad told me.”
“When?”
She took a breath.
“Before he died.”
My heart stopped.
“Stephanie…”
She squeezed my hand weakly.
“Dad wasn't killed by the heart attack.”
I leaned closer.
“What are you saying?”
She whispered,
“He survived the first one.”
My blood ran cold.
“He was alive?”
“Yes.”
“For how long?”
“Twenty-three minutes.”
“What happened?”
She began crying.
“I saw him.”
“When?”
“The night he died.”
“Where?”
She looked toward the door.
May you like
Then whispered,
“In the basement.”
