Chapter 6 - The House Was Never the PrizeDaniel stayed until dark.
He told me little.
Not because he didn't trust me.
Because, according to him, "the fewer facts you know, the harder they can use those facts against you."
That sounded paranoid.
Until I remembered the emails.
The threats.
The forged documents.
The photograph.
The impossible transfer.
Then paranoia began to sound like preparation.
Before leaving, Daniel gave me a small brass key.
"What's this?"
"Your wife's."
"To what?"
"You'll know when you see it."
"What does that mean?"
He smiled sadly.
"Patricia always believed you'd figure things out eventually."
Then he walked away.
At 9:15, Raymond arrived.
He was carrying a banker box.
"I want you to open this."
I looked at the label.
P. HAYES - PRIVATE
"What is it?"
"Your wife's personal records."
"You had these?"
"She instructed me to keep them."
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"Because she told me not to."
"You're starting to use that sentence too much."
He smiled.
"Your wife was unusually specific."
Inside the box were notebooks.
Receipts.
Photographs.
A cassette tape.
Old correspondence.
And a small envelope.
My name was written across it.
I opened it.
Inside was a single sentence.
The key opens something you forgot you owned.
I looked at the brass key.
Then Raymond said:
"Let's go downstairs."
We walked into the basement.
Behind the old furnace was a wooden cabinet I had built twenty years ago.
I had forgotten it completely.
At the back was a small lock.
I tried the brass key.
Click.
The cabinet opened.
Inside was a metal box.
I stared at Raymond.
He nodded.
I opened it.
There were ledgers.
Bank statements.
A USB drive.
And a letter from Patricia.
Walter,
If you've found this, then the pressure has started.
Do not panic.
Do not confront anyone.
Most importantly, do not trust Marcus with this box.
I closed my eyes.
Even in death, Patricia was trying to protect me from my son.
I picked up the ledger.
The entries dated back twenty-three years.
Payments.
Transfers.
Companies I didn't recognize.
Then one name appeared repeatedly.
Northstar Development.
Raymond stiffened.
"Do you recognize it?"
"No."
He did.
I could tell.
"What?"
He turned the ledger toward me.
"Northstar was connected to your father."
My stomach tightened.
"How?"
"Investment vehicle."
"Doing what?"
"Land acquisition."
"Why would Patricia have this?"
"Because she was trying to trace money."
"What money?"
Raymond opened the USB file.
There were scanned records.
Corporate transfers.
Offshore accounts.
Fake invoices.
Millions.
I stared.
"This is criminal."
"Yes."
"How much?"
Raymond scrolled.
"Approximately fourteen million."
I felt dizzy.
"That's not four million."
"No."
"Then where did four million go?"
"That's the question."
I remembered Daniel.
Money that disappeared.
Four million dollars.
Records buried under land.
My father's name.
Patricia's investigation.
And Renata's obsession.
Suddenly I understood.
Renata didn't care about my cottage.
She thought the cottage contained evidence.
The real prize wasn't the house.
It was whatever the house was protecting.
At 11:28, my phone rang.
Marcus.
"Dad."
"What?"
"I need to tell you something before Renata finds out."
"Go on."
"She knows about the basement."
My blood ran cold.
"How?"
"Mom told her."
"Impossible."
"She found one of Mom's notes."
"What note?"
"Something about the dock."
I looked toward the window.
"The dock?"
"She thinks there's something under it."
I remembered Daniel's words.
Your cottage isn't the real target.
I grabbed my coat.
"Where are you?"
"Driving home."
"Don't go there."
"Why?"
"Just listen to me."
"Dad..."
"Marcus, listen."
He went quiet.
Then I heard a crash.
His voice changed.
"Dad?"
"What happened?"
"Someone hit my car."
My heart stopped.
"Where are you?"
"I don't know."
"What do you mean you don't know?"
"I think they followed me."
"Call 911."
"I did."
Then the line went dead.
I called again.
Nothing.
I called emergency services.
They found the vehicle twenty-three minutes later.
Empty.
The driver's door was open.
Marcus was gone.
Renata arrived at my cottage less than an hour later.
She stood at the front door screaming that Marcus was missing because of me.
I opened the door.
"You knew."
Her face changed.
"Knew what?"
"That he was in danger."
She stared.
I continued.
"You didn't call me."
"Why would I?"
"Because you're his wife."
Her voice trembled.
"You're lying."
"No."
She stepped closer.
"You think you can scare me?"
I looked directly at her.
"No."
I lowered my voice.
"I'm warning you."
She backed away.
Then she smiled.
"You're still protecting him."
"He's my son."
"And he's going to choose me."
"Maybe."
I closed the door.
But she didn't leave.
She remained on the porch for several seconds.
Then she pulled out her phone.
She made one call.
"He's found it."
I froze behind the door.
She continued.
"No. He doesn't know everything."
A pause.
Then:
"Not yet."
I looked at Raymond.
He was staring at me.
"She knows," he whispered.
"What?"
"She knows the box exists."
The next sentence came from outside.
May you like
Renata said:
"Then we need to move the money before he does."
