Chapter 11: What Diane Buried in the Red Barn
We reached the farmhouse shortly before eleven.
The road was narrow, surrounded by dark trees and empty fields. Rain tapped against the windshield as Mr. Bennett drove.
I sat in the back beside Margaret.
Elizabeth was in the passenger seat, holding the map.
My father had insisted on coming despite his injuries.
He sat in another car behind us.
I watched the headlights move across the trees.
“Did Grandpa bring me here when I was little?”” I asked.
Margaret smiled sadly.
“Once. You were about three.””
“What did we do?””
“He showed you the barn. You were terrified of the chickens.””
I laughed despite myself.
“Grandpa told me I used to chase them.””
“He exaggerated.””
The smile disappeared from her face.
“He wanted you to have happy memories here.””
I looked out the window.
“Why didn't he tell me about the place?””
“Because he wanted you to grow up without being afraid of the people who were hurting your family.””
The farmhouse appeared around a bend.
It was smaller than I expected.
White paint peeled from the wooden walls. The porch railing leaned to one side. Behind it stood a red barn with a rusted roof.
But something was wrong.
The barn door was open.
And a light was shining inside.
Mr. Bennett stopped the car.
“Stay together.””
Elizabeth stepped out first.
Margaret followed.
I remained close to them.
My father arrived seconds later.
He looked at the barn.
“Diane.””
A figure emerged from the doorway.
Diane.
She wore a dark coat and held a flashlight.
“Finally,” she said.
Elizabeth stepped forward.
“Move away from the building.””
Diane laughed.
“You really think you can order me around?””
“This property belongs to Harold's estate.””
“Harold is dead.””
“And his legal instructions are very much alive.””
Diane pointed the flashlight toward me.
“Come here, Maya.””
I stayed beside Margaret.
“What are you doing?””
“Trying to save you from something you don't understand.””
I shook my head.
“You've said that before.””
Her expression hardened.
“Because it's true.””
My father approached.
“Diane, it's over.””
She turned toward him.
“Don't pretend you suddenly became a good man.””
Richard stopped.
“You've taken enough.””
“I took what I was owed.””
“You took Laura's money.””
“She was going to lose it anyway!””
Elizabeth stepped between them.
“That's enough.””
Diane looked toward the barn.
“You have no idea what's inside.””
Margaret answered quietly.
“We know exactly what's inside.””
Diane's flashlight dropped slightly.
For the first time, she looked uncertain.
Margaret reached into her bag and removed a small key.
“This belongs to the storage cabinet in the west corner.””
Diane stared at it.
“Where did you get that?””
“Harold gave it to me.””
Diane laughed bitterly.
“He always trusted the wrong people.””
Margaret walked toward the barn.
Diane immediately moved to block her.
Mr. Bennett stepped forward.
“Don't touch her.””
Diane stopped.
Then she looked at me.
“Your grandfather told you I was a bad person, didn't he?””
I shook my head.
“He told me to listen to people who told the truth.””
She stared at me.
“And you believe them?””
“I believe the documents.””
For several seconds, she said nothing.
Then she stepped aside.
Inside the barn, the smell of damp wood and old hay filled the air.
A single bulb hung from the ceiling.
At the far end stood a wooden cabinet with a metal lock.
Margaret inserted the key.
The lock clicked.
Inside were several cardboard boxes, an old leather suitcase, and a sealed metal container.
Elizabeth carefully examined the boxes.
“Harold kept everything.””
I saw familiar names on the folders.
Laura Collins.
Richard Collins.
Diane Collins.
Daniel Hayes.
There were also bank statements, property deeds, hospital records, and copies of emails.
Mr. Bennett opened the leather suitcase.
Inside were dozens of photographs.
Some showed my mother at work.
Others showed her with Grandpa.
One photograph showed Diane standing beside a man in a gray suit.
I picked it up.
“Who is he?””
Margaret examined the picture.
“Victor Lang.””
Elizabeth looked up.
“The property developer?””
Margaret nodded.
“He was the man behind the fraudulent transactions.””
My father stepped closer.
“Diane said he was just an investor.””
Margaret shook her head.
“He was never just an investor.””
Elizabeth removed a folder from the metal container.
On its cover were the words:
PROPERTY TRANSFER INVESTIGATION.
Inside were documents showing several properties had been transferred using forged signatures.
Some belonged to elderly people.
Others belonged to deceased individuals whose estates were still being settled.
I stared at one page.
There was Grandpa's signature.
Or something that looked like it.
“Did someone forge this?””
Elizabeth examined it.
“Yes.””
She compared it with another document.
“The handwriting is different. The signature was copied.””
Diane stood near the doorway.
“You can't prove anything from old papers.””
Elizabeth looked at her.
“Actually, these documents include the original transaction numbers and the names of the witnesses.””
Diane folded her arms.
“Harold was obsessed with collecting paperwork.””
Margaret removed a small cassette recorder from the suitcase.
“And he collected this too.””
Diane's face changed.
“No.””
Margaret pressed the play button.
A man's voice filled the barn.
Victor Lang.
“I don't care what Laura knows. Get the documents before she speaks to Harold.””
Then Diane's voice.
“What about Richard?””
Victor laughed.
“Richard will do whatever you tell him.””
The recording continued.
Diane spoke again.
“And the child?””
Victor replied.
“Once the financial arrangement is complete, nobody will care whose name appears on the birth record.””
I looked at my father.
His face had gone completely white.
The recording ended.
Diane lunged toward the recorder.
Mr. Bennett caught her arm.
“Don't.””
She pulled away.
“You have no idea what you're doing!””
Elizabeth placed the recorder in a protective case.
“I think we understand perfectly.””
Then she found another document.
It was a signed agreement between Victor Lang and Diane.
The final paragraph contained a payment schedule.
Diane had received money after every successful property transfer.
But the most shocking part was the date of the final payment.
It was scheduled for the day after my mother's death.
My father stared at it.
“You told me you never received anything.””
Diane looked at him.
“Richard, please.””
“You told me Laura's accounts were empty.””
“It's complicated.””
“You told me we were going to start over.””
She snapped.
“Because you were useless! You couldn't make a decision without your father!””
My father stepped backward.
Diane continued.
“Harold gave everything to Laura. Then to Maya. I was supposed to spend the rest of my life begging for scraps?””
Margaret's voice was cold.
“You were supposed to leave a child's inheritance alone.””
Diane turned toward her.
“Don't lecture me.””
Then she reached into her coat.
Mr. Bennett immediately stepped forward.
“Put your hand where I can see it.””
Diane froze.
She slowly withdrew a folded document instead of anything else.
It was a property deed.
She held it up.
“This is the real reason Harold hid everything.””
Elizabeth took the document.
Her eyes moved across the page.
Then she looked at Margaret.
“Margaret, this can't be right.””
“What?””
Elizabeth turned the deed toward her.
The property described wasn't the farmhouse.
It was a large parcel of land near the town center.
A property Grandpa had supposedly sold twenty years earlier.
And the new owner listed on the deed was not Harold.
It was Maya Collins.
I stared.
“Why is my name on it?””
Diane smiled for the first time that evening.
“Because your grandfather knew what was coming.””
My father frowned.
“What does that mean?””
Diane stepped toward the open barn door.
“It means Harold didn't leave Maya a fortune.””
She looked directly at me.
“He left her a liability.””
Elizabeth checked the attached financial schedule.
Then her face drained of color.
The property was carrying an outstanding debt of $2.4 million.
I looked at Mr. Bennett.
“Does that mean I owe that money?””
He examined the papers carefully.
“No. Not necessarily. We need to verify the validity of this deed and the underlying debt.””
Diane smiled.
“Good luck.””
Then she walked out into the rain.
Nobody followed her.
I looked down at the document.
My name was printed in bold.
Maya Collins.
May you like
And beneath it was a signature that looked exactly like mine.
Except I had never signed anything.
