Chapter 5 - Madison's Warning
For the first time, I realized the danger wasn't only financial.
I opened the door wider.
“Come inside.”
Madison didn't move.
“I'm not here to fight.”
“Then come inside.”
She stepped into the foyer.
She looked around my house like she'd seen it a hundred times.
In truth, she had.
She'd spent Christmases here.
Thanksgivings.
Trent's birthday.
My wife's memorial service.
I'd considered her family.
That made what came next harder to understand.
“Your father is involved.”
She looked down.
“Yes.”
“How?”
“He made a bad investment.”
“How bad?”
“He borrowed money.”
“How much?”
“I don't know.”
“You're his daughter.”
“I stopped asking.”
“Why?”
She looked toward the living room.
“Because every time I ask, someone tells me I'll understand later.”
“And do you?”
“No.”
Her honesty surprised me.
“Then why are you helping them?”
She hugged her arms around herself.
“Because Trent promised.”
“Promised what?”
“That he would fix it.”
“With my house?”
She didn't answer.
“Madison.”
She took a breath.
“Your house was never supposed to be sold.”
“Then what was it?”
“Collateral.”
I stared at her.
“I never agreed.”
“I know.”
“Did you know about the forged document?”
Her eyes filled with fear.
“I didn't know it was forged.”
“That's not what I asked.”
She looked at the floor.
“I knew they were preparing paperwork.”
“For my property?”
“Yes.”
“Who?”
“My father.”
“And Trent?”
She closed her eyes.
“Yes.”
There it was.
The last piece of the puzzle.
My son hadn't merely been pressured.
He had participated.
I stepped away from her.
“Why?”
“Because they told him there was no other choice.”
“There is always another choice.”
“You don't understand.”
“Then make me understand.”
She finally looked up.
“My father made Trent believe that if he refused to cooperate, the bank would come after the house anyway.”
I frowned.
“That's nonsense.”
“I know that now.”
“Did Trent?”
“He believed him.”
“Why?”
“Because my father showed him documents.”
“What documents?”
“Debt schedules.”
“Real?”
“I think so.”
That answer bothered me.
I walked to the kitchen.
“Coffee?”
She shook her head.
I poured myself a cup.
“What is Richard hiding?”
“I don't know.”
“You came here tonight to warn me.”
She nodded.
“Why now?”
She stared at me.
“Because this morning, I heard him talking to someone.”
“Who?”
“I don't know.”
“What did he say?”
“He said the old man had started asking questions.”
I went still.
“And?”
“He said, ‘Then we have less time than I thought.’”
The kitchen suddenly felt smaller.
“What did your father mean?”
“I don't know.”
“Madison.”
She started crying quietly.
“I think he wants you out of the way.”
I looked at her.
“Financially?”
“I don't know.”
“Madison.”
She wiped her face.
“I don't know what he means.”
I didn't believe her.
But I believed her fear.
My phone rang.
Calder.
I answered.
“Kent, we traced the metadata on the purchase agreement.”
“And?”
“It originated from an office belonging to Richard Hale.”
Madison closed her eyes.
“There was more.”
I listened.
“A private investigator was hired six weeks ago to monitor you.”
My hand tightened around the phone.
“For what?”
“The report mentions your work schedule, your property holdings, and your banking activity.”
Madison whispered, “Oh God.”
I looked at her.
“Why would someone investigate me?”
Calder paused.
“Because they were trying to determine whether you had any other significant assets.”
My stomach turned.
“How many properties do they know about?”
“All of them.”
I glanced at Madison.
She looked horrified.
“Calder,” I said, “tell me something.”
“Yes?”
“What happens if Brentwood can't be transferred?”
Another pause.
“The lender can demand repayment from the guarantor.”
“Trent.”
“Yes.”
“And if he can't pay?”
“The guarantee may expose him personally.”
“So he'll lose everything.”
“Possibly.”
I looked at Madison.
“That's why you're here.”
She nodded slowly.
“I don't want to lose him.”
“You already helped him lie to me.”
“I know.”
“You knew about the paperwork.”
“I know.”
“And yet you came here.”
She took a shaky breath.
“Because tonight my father told Trent something.”
“What?”
“He said, ‘Your father won't be a problem much longer.’”
The cup in my hand stopped halfway to my mouth.
I set it down.
“Did Trent hear that?”
“Yes.”
“What did he do?”
“He laughed.”
“Why?”
“Because he thought my father meant you'd finally sell.”
I stared at her.
“And you?”
“I didn't think that.”
“What did you think?”
She looked toward my front window.
Then whispered:
“I thought he meant something else.”
A car passed outside.
Headlights swept across the walls.
Madison suddenly stood.
“I have to go.”
“Why?”
She grabbed her purse.
“Because my father knows I came here.”
“How?”
Her phone began vibrating.
She looked at the screen.
The name on it was Richard.
She didn't answer.
The phone stopped.
Then immediately started again.
Madison looked at me.
“I have to go.”
She reached the door.
Before opening it, she turned.
“Kent?”
“Yes?”
“Do not go to Brentwood tomorrow.”
“Why?”
May you like
Her face had lost all its color.
“Because someone will be there waiting for you.”
