Chapter 5: The Last Night of My Father's Life
I couldn't breathe.
My father had died after a sudden heart attack.
That was the official explanation.
I was twenty-three when it happened.
I remembered the hospital corridor, the smell of disinfectant, and my mother crying into my shoulder.
I remembered the funeral.
The black dress.
The flowers.
The coffin being lowered into the ground.
And now Richard was telling me my father had believed someone wanted him dead.
“What are you saying?”” I whispered.
Richard glanced at my mother.
“Not here.””
I stepped closer.
“No. You're not going to say something like that and then refuse to explain.””
Linda shook her head.
“He was paranoid. He'd become obsessed with the company.””
Richard's voice turned cold.
“Michael wasn't paranoid.””
“Then why didn't you tell the police?””
“I did.””
My stomach dropped.
“What?””
Richard opened his folder and removed a folded piece of paper.
“This is a statement I gave investigators after Michael died.””
I took it.
The document was dated eleven years earlier.
Richard had reported that Michael received several anonymous threats during the final month of his life.
One message had been delivered to his office.
Another had been left on his car windshield.
The final one had been sent by email.
I read the words.
Stop looking into the accounts. You don't know what you're risking.
I looked up.
“Did the police investigate?””
“Yes.””
“And?””
“They found no evidence of a direct threat from anyone they could identify.””
My mother scoffed.
“Because there was nothing to find.””
Richard ignored her.
“Michael also told me he was concerned about a change in his medication.””
I frowned.
“What medication?””
“Heart medication. He had a prescription, but he believed someone had been interfering with his tablets.””
My hands began shaking.
“Did he tell you who?””
Richard looked toward Linda.
“He suspected someone in the house.””
My mother stood so quickly that her chair scraped across the floor.
“This is disgusting.””
I turned toward her.
“Mom, did you touch Dad's medication?””
“No!””
“Did you?””
“Your father was sick. He had heart problems for years.””
Richard spoke quietly.
“Michael told me his medication bottles had been moved.””
Linda pointed at him.
“You were never there! You don't know what happened in that house!””
Richard took a breath.
“I was there the night he died.””
I turned toward him.
“What?””
He nodded.
“Michael called me around nine that evening. He sounded frightened. He asked me to come over.””
My throat tightened.
“Why?””
“He said he'd found something in the company records. Something that connected the missing money to a property transfer.””
“What property transfer?””
Richard reached into his folder.
He removed a photograph.
It showed a building with a brick exterior and a small sign near the entrance.
I recognized it.
My father had taken me there when I was sixteen.
He called it his first successful investment.
It was a commercial property on the edge of town.
Richard pointed to the sign.
“Michael had discovered that the building had been sold without his approval.””
“Who sold it?””
He didn't answer.
I looked at the document beneath the photograph.
The transfer had been signed by Linda Morgan.
My mother.
“Mom?””
She shook her head.
“I had permission.””
“From Dad?””
“He was my husband!””
“That doesn't answer the question.””
Richard continued.
“The sale price was significantly below market value. The money was transferred through several accounts. Michael discovered the final destination.””
“Where?””
Richard looked at me.
“An account controlled by someone named Thomas Bell.””
I searched my memory.
Nothing.
“Who is Thomas Bell?””
Linda's face changed.
It was subtle.
But I saw it.
Richard noticed too.
“He was the financial adviser who handled some of the company's transactions.””
My mother walked toward the window.
“I'm not doing this.””
I followed her.
“Who is Thomas Bell?””
She pressed her hands against the curtains.
“He was a friend.””
“Your friend?””
She didn't answer.
Richard placed another photograph on the table.
It showed my father standing beside a man in a suit.
The man was younger than Richard, with dark hair and a narrow face.
On the back, my father's handwriting read:
Thomas Bell. Never trust a man who smiles while counting your money.
I looked at my mother.
“You knew him?””
She finally turned.
“Yes.””
“How well?””
She swallowed.
“Your father didn't like him.””
“That isn't what I asked.””
Richard answered.
“Thomas and Linda had been involved in the transfer of the building.””
My mother slammed her hand against the window frame.
“Stop making me sound like a criminal!””
I stepped backward.
“Then tell me the truth.””
For the first time, she looked genuinely frightened.
Not angry.
Not offended.
Frightened.
Richard lowered his voice.
“Michael was planning to report the financial irregularities. He wanted the properties restored to the trust and the money recovered.””
“And the night he died?””
“I arrived at the house shortly after nine-thirty. Michael was in his study. He was pale and sweating. He told me he'd been feeling unwell.””
I could barely hear him over the pounding in my ears.
“Did you call an ambulance?””
“Yes. But by the time it arrived, he was unconscious.””
I closed my eyes.
Richard continued.
“Linda told the paramedics he'd taken his usual medication.””
My mother started crying.
“I did everything I could!””
Richard nodded slowly.
“You told them that. But later, when I asked about the medication bottle, you said you'd thrown it away.””
I looked at her.
“Why?””
“I was grieving!””
“Why did you throw away his medication?””
“I don't remember!””
Richard removed another sheet.
“Because the bottle was missing several tablets that Michael hadn't taken.””
My mother covered her ears.
“Enough!””
I stepped closer.
“Mom, did you give Dad something?””
She shook her head violently.
“No! I loved your father!””
“Then why are you afraid of these questions?””
She looked at me.
And for one brief moment, I saw something in her expression that I had never seen before.
Not guilt.
Not grief.
Resentment.
“You think your father was perfect?”” she whispered.
“You think he was some wonderful man who loved everybody?””
I said nothing.
“He controlled me. He controlled the money. He made me feel like I was nothing.””
Richard interrupted.
“That doesn't justify what happened.””
My mother turned toward him.
“You were jealous of him!””
Richard's face tightened.
“Don't.””
“You wanted his company. You wanted his properties. You wanted his life!””
Richard stood.
“I spent twenty years building that business with him.””
“And you wanted everything he had!””
I looked between them.
“Wait.””
They both fell silent.
I turned toward Richard.
“Why do you still have Dad's ring?””
He looked down at his hand.
“Because Michael gave it to me.””
“Why?””
Richard hesitated.
Then he removed the ring and placed it on the table.
Inside the band were the engraved initials M.M.
He turned it over.
There was another engraving I had never noticed.
A date.
November 14.
The day before my father died.
“He gave me this the night he died,” Richard said.
My breath caught.
“Why?””
“Because he wanted me to remember a promise.””
“What promise?””
Richard looked directly at me.
“He asked me to protect you and Jason if anything happened to him.””
I stared at the ring.
“Why would he think something would happen?””
Richard didn't answer.
Instead, he took out his phone and opened an old photograph.
It showed a small envelope lying on a desk.
The handwriting was unmistakably my father's.
“Michael sent this to me the afternoon before he died,” Richard explained.
“He told me not to open it unless something happened to him.””
“Did you?””
“No.””
“Why not?””
“Because I never received permission to open it. He said it was meant for his daughter.””
I felt my eyes fill.
Richard placed the phone in front of me.
“It's been in my possession for eleven years.””
I stared at the envelope.
Then I noticed the date.
It was the same date as my father's death.
I looked at Richard.
“Where is it?””
He reached into the folder.
But before he could take anything out, my mother lunged across the table and grabbed his arm.
“Don't you dare give her that!””
Richard pulled away.
“Linda, stop.””
She grabbed the leather folder.
Several documents scattered across the floor.
I bent to retrieve them.
One was a printed email.
Another was a bank statement.
But the third was a handwritten note.
I recognized my father's writing immediately.
The message was short.
If Emily ever discovers the truth, tell her to look at the blue box beneath the stairs.
I stared at the sentence.
“What blue box?””
My mother went completely still.
Richard slowly turned toward her.
“You know what he's talking about.””
She didn't answer.
I looked toward the staircase.
There was a small storage cupboard beneath it.
I had played hide-and-seek in that cupboard as a child.
I remembered an old blue metal box sitting there once.
I hadn't seen it in years.
I started walking.
My mother stepped in front of me.
“Don't go in there.””
I stopped.
“Why?””
“Because there's nothing for you.””
I looked at her.
“Then move.””
She didn't.
May you like
And for the first time in my life, I understood that my mother wasn't trying to keep me from discovering something.
She was trying to keep me from discovering something she had spent eleven years hiding.
