Chapter 15 - The Hidden WorkshopWe escaped through Emma's back door.
Rebecca knew a path through the neighborhood.
Nathan led us toward an abandoned marina.
There was an old fishing boat hidden under a tarp.
“Harold's?”
Emma nodded.
“He left it with my adoptive father.”
I stared at her.
“How long have you known?”
“Three months.”
“You knew about the house?”
“I knew about a workshop.”
“Why didn't Harold tell me?”
“Maybe he was afraid.”
“Of what?”
Emma looked at me.
“Of losing both of us.”
The boat carried us to a quiet inlet.
From there we returned to the beach house through the underground tunnel.
The hidden workshop was behind another sealed wall.
Emma opened it with a fingerprint.
The room was perfectly preserved.
Harold's tools.
His workbench.
His old radio.
A wall covered in photographs.
I walked toward it.
There were photographs of Marcus as a child.
Emma as a baby.
Harold and me.
Lauren.
Richard.
Nathan.
Everyone.
Harold had been watching all of us.
I found a tape recorder.
A message played automatically.
Harold's voice:
“Pat, if Emma is with you, then I failed to keep the family separated.”
I looked at Emma.
She cried quietly.
Harold continued.
“That means Richard knows the truth.”
A pause.
“The ledger is not the final prize.”
I leaned closer.
“The final prize is the name of the person who ordered the original fraud.”
Nathan stiffened.
“What fraud?”
Harold answered.
“The land theft began forty-two years ago.”
I looked at Emma.
The recording continued.
“Richard didn't start it.”
The room went silent.
“He inherited it.”
Nathan whispered:
“Who did?”
Harold said the name.
I had heard it once.
At a political fundraiser years ago.
A billionaire.
A senator.
A man whose name appeared on buildings all across Florida.
“Arthur Kane.”
Nathan looked horrified.
“Impossible.”
Emma stared.
“Who is Arthur Kane?”
“Richard's employer,” Nathan said.
“More than that,” Rebecca whispered.
“He's the architect.”
Harold's voice continued.
“He created the shell companies. He falsified the land transfers. He bribed officials. He buried the evidence.”
Then came the final sentence.
“And the one thing they don't know…”
The recording paused.
“…is that I kept a copy.”
The tape ended.
I looked at the shelves.
“Where?”
Emma walked toward the workbench.
She touched the underside.
A hidden drawer opened.
Inside was a ledger.
Black leather.
Old.
Heavy.
She lifted it.
“We found it.”
I opened the cover.
Names filled the pages.
Payments.
Dates.
Bank accounts.
Signatures.
Then I saw one name circled in red.
Marcus Wells.
My son's name.
Beside it was an amount.
Five hundred thousand dollars.
I looked at Marcus.
He went white.
“I didn't take that.”
I turned another page.
There were three signatures.
Richard Vale.
Lauren Wells.
And Marcus.
The room fell silent.
Marcus whispered:
“Mom…”
I looked at him.
He stepped forward.
“I swear I didn't sign that.”
Emma suddenly grabbed the ledger.
“Wait.”
She pointed to the final page.
A note was written there.
The person who forged Marcus's signature is inside the family.
Nobody moved.
Then Lauren's voice came from the doorway.
“You finally found it.”
May you like
We turned.
She was holding a gun.
