Chapter 13: The Man Who Was There That Night
I couldn't stop looking at the photograph.
Daniel.
Twenty-two years old.
Standing outside my father's office on the night he died.
For eleven years, I had believed my husband had entered my life by coincidence.
We met at a charity fundraiser organized by Whitmore Industries. He had been charming, ambitious, and attentive. He remembered my coffee order and sent flowers to my office after our first date.
He had told me he admired my father's work ethic.
He had even claimed that he wished he could have met him.
Now I was staring at evidence that he had known my father before we ever met.
"Ethan, where did you find this?""
"In Mom's old photo album. It was tucked behind a picture of Dad's office.""
"Why didn't you tell me earlier?""
"Because I didn't recognize Daniel at first. He looks different. But I compared the picture with an old company photograph.""
I swallowed.
"Did Mom know?""
"I don't think so. She looked shocked when I showed her.""
I looked toward Detective Mitchell.
She was standing beside the window, reading the photograph I had forwarded.
"Did you touch anything else in the album?"" she asked.
"No," I answered.
"Good. We need to preserve the original.""
I returned to the phone.
"Ethan, listen carefully. Don't go anywhere alone. Don't contact Daniel.""
"I won't.""
"And don't tell Mom where you found the photograph until the detective speaks with her.""
"Okay.""
He paused.
"Nia?""
"Yes?""
"Do you think Daniel married you because of Dad?""
I stared at the photograph.
I wanted to say no.
I wanted to tell my brother that our marriage had been real, that the eleven years we shared couldn't possibly have been part of some elaborate plan.
But I couldn't make myself say it.
"I don't know.""
The call ended.
Detective Mitchell placed the photograph inside a protective evidence sleeve.
"We need to establish whether this image is authentic and identify exactly what Daniel was doing at your father's office.""
"Can you arrest him?""
"Not based on this photograph alone.""
I nodded.
"But we're getting closer.""
She contacted the investigation team.
Within an hour, they had located an archived employee record from Whitmore Industries.
Daniel had worked as a temporary administrative assistant during the same period my father was investigating the missing money.
His employment had lasted only four months.
His supervisor?
Gregory Shaw.
I read the record twice.
"Daniel never told me he worked there.""
Detective Mitchell nodded.
"His employment history on the executive promotion application begins two years later.""
"Why would he hide four months?""
"That's something we'll ask him.""
She requested the original personnel file.
Then she received another call.
Her expression changed.
"What do you mean the document was signed by him?""
She listened.
"Send the scanned copy immediately.""
She ended the call.
"Your father submitted a formal complaint three days before his death.""
"Against Gregory?""
"Yes. But the complaint also identifies a second employee.""
She turned her tablet toward me.
The name appeared beneath the heading.
*Daniel Whitmore.*
My stomach dropped.
The complaint alleged that Daniel had accessed confidential financial records without authorization and helped transfer funds through an external consulting account.
I covered my mouth.
"He was involved.""
"At least according to your father's complaint.""
"Then why wasn't he investigated?""
Detective Mitchell looked at the file.
"Because the complaint was withdrawn two days after your father's death.""
"By whom?""
She pointed to the signature.
*Margaret Whitmore.*
My mother.
I couldn't breathe.
"She withdrew the complaint?""
"That's what the record indicates.""
I shook my head.
"Why?""
"We'll need to ask her.""
Before I could answer, my phone rang.
Daniel.
I stared at his name.
Detective Mitchell motioned for me to answer on speaker.
"Hello?""
"Nia.""
His voice was quiet.
Almost gentle.
"I need to see you.""
"No.""
"Please. Just ten minutes.""
"You've had eleven years.""
He exhaled.
"I know what you've found.""
I looked at Detective Mitchell.
"Then you know the police are investigating.""
"I know.""
"Did you know my father?""
Silence.
Then he answered.
"Yes.""
My chest tightened.
"Why did you lie to me?""
"I was trying to protect you.""
"From what?""
"From something that happened before we met.""
I laughed bitterly.
"Something that involved my father dying?""
Daniel's breathing changed.
"Nia, there are things you don't understand.""
"Then explain them.""
He was silent.
Finally, he said, "I was at the office that night.""
My eyes filled.
"Why?""
"Gregory asked me to deliver some documents. I didn't know what they contained.""
"Did you see my father?""
"Yes.""
"What happened?""
"I argued with him.""
"About the money?""
"Yes.""
I closed my eyes.
"What did he say?""
Daniel's voice dropped.
"He said he was going to the police the next morning. He said he had enough evidence to put Gregory in prison.""
"And you?""
"I left.""
"Did you see him again?""
"No.""
"Then why did you marry me?""
His answer came too quickly.
"Because I loved you.""
I stared at the phone.
For the first time, I wanted to believe him.
But Detective Mitchell was watching me.
And I knew there was no room for another lie.
"Daniel, did you know my father was going to die that night?""
"No.""
"Did Gregory?""
Silence.
Then Daniel whispered, "I think he did.""
My blood ran cold.
"What does that mean?""
Before he could answer, a loud noise came through the phone.
Then another voice.
A man's voice.
"Daniel, hang up!""
The call disconnected.
Detective Mitchell immediately called the number back.
It went straight to voicemail.
She looked at me.
"Do you know where he is?""
"No.""
She contacted the officers tracking Daniel's movements.
A few minutes later, an update arrived.
Daniel's car had been spotted outside an office building in the financial district.
The building belonged to a company registered under Gregory Shaw.
Detective Mitchell stood.
"We're going there.""
I caught her sleeve.
"Detective, what if Daniel knows who killed my father?""
She looked at me.
"Then we're going to make sure he tells us.""
An hour later, she called again.
They had found Daniel.
But Gregory was gone.
And Daniel had been waiting in an empty conference room with a briefcase containing several original financial documents.
One of them was a letter.
A letter addressed to my father.
Written by Daniel.
Detective Mitchell read me the first sentence over the phone.
Mr. Whitmore, I did what you asked, but Gregory knows I kept a copy.
I closed my eyes.
My husband hadn't merely known my father.
May you like
He had been working with him.
And apparently, he had been hiding something from Gregory ever since.
