Chapter 4 - THE FIRST WILL
Michael finally told us the truth.
Thomas Reed was alive.
He had never died.
The death certificate was forged.
The funeral was staged.
And Michael had helped create the paperwork.
Ryan looked devastated.
“You helped fake his death?”
Michael nodded.
“Why?”
“Your father ordered it.”
“Why would he do that?”
“Because Thomas was being hunted.”
“By whom?”
Michael hesitated.
“Your mother.”
Ryan stood.
“My mother?”
“She believed Thomas stole money from the trust.”
“Did he?”
“No.”
“Then why?”
“Because Thomas knew where the original ledger was.”
I looked at Michael.
“What was in the ledger?”
He opened the second box.
Inside was a list of transactions.
Payments made decades earlier.
Companies.
Political organizations.
Offshore accounts.
Names of people who had influence over the family.
And beside several names were dates.
Some were dates of deaths.
I recognized one.
Ryan's father.
Michael pointed to it.
“Your father discovered that someone had been moving money through the trust.”
“Who?”
“Carol.”
Ryan's face hardened.
“My mother?”
“Yes.”
“But why?”
“She believed she was entitled to it.”
“Why?”
Michael pulled out another document.
“Because she believed your father had promised her control.”
“Did he?”
“No.”
“What did he promise?”
“Nothing.”
Ryan stared at the documents.
“She killed him.”
Michael shook his head.
“We don't know.”
“But you suspect her.”
“Yes.”
I looked at the ledger.
“Where is the original?”
Michael looked at me.
“Your father hid it.”
“Where?”
“No one knows.”
“Then why did that man tell us to ask where you buried the first will?”
Michael closed his eyes.
“Because the first will was buried with the original trust.”
I frowned.
“Where?”
“In a cemetery.”
Ryan's eyes widened.
“My father?”
“No.”
“Who?”
Michael answered:
“Your grandfather.”
We drove to the old Carter family cemetery.
It was raining.
The graves were surrounded by tall trees.
Michael led us toward a stone mausoleum.
Inside was an old metal box.
He opened it.
There were documents inside.
The first will.
The original trust.
And a letter.
Ryan opened the will.
The beneficiary was Caleb.
The guardian was Emily.
Carol was excluded.
Ryan stared.
“Then why does the other will name Carol?”
Michael looked at him.
“Because that was the forged version.”
My heart stopped.
Carol had created a false will.
She had been trying to make herself the legal guardian.
Ryan turned another page.
There was something else.
A clause stating that if anyone attempted to alter the trust, the entire estate would be placed under court protection.
Michael smiled faintly.
“Your father planned for this.”
I exhaled.
Then I saw a signature.
My own.
I frowned.
“I never signed this.”
Michael shook his head.
“You did.”
“When?”
“Six months ago.”
“That is impossible.”
“Look at the date.”
I did.
It was six months before my father-in-law died.
I had been pregnant with Caleb.
I remembered meeting him that day.
He had asked me to sign what I thought was a simple guardianship document.
He had said:
“If anything happens to Ryan, protect the boy.”
I hadn't known what it meant.
Now I did.
He had already chosen me.
Michael pointed to another clause.
“Your appointment as trustee becomes permanent if Ryan dies, disappears, or is declared incompetent.”
I looked at Ryan.
He stared at the paper.
“Why me?”
Michael answered:
“Because your father didn't trust anyone else.”
Suddenly a car stopped outside the cemetery.
A man stepped out.
Black coat.
Black ring.
Thomas Reed.
Ryan ran toward him.
“You're alive.”
Thomas smiled.
“I never stopped being.”
“Why did you let me believe you were dead?”
“Because your father asked me to disappear.”
“Why?”
Thomas looked at me.
“Because Carol wasn't the only person trying to take the trust.”
“Who else?”
Thomas looked toward Michael.
Then he said:
“Your grandfather's attorney.”
I frowned.
“He died.”
Thomas shook his head.
“No.”
“He's alive too.”
Before we could ask more, headlights appeared behind us.
Several vehicles.
Thomas's expression changed.
“Get inside.”
“What?”
“Now.”
Men stepped out of the cars.
Thomas pushed us toward the mausoleum.
“Lock the door.”
Ryan slammed it shut.
Someone hit the metal door.
Thomas whispered:
“They found the original.”
“Who?”
“Everyone.”
The pounding grew louder.
Then a man's voice came from outside.
“Thomas.”
He froze.
“Open the door.”
Thomas looked at me.
“That's the man who killed your father.”
I felt cold.
“Who?”
Thomas whispered:
“Richard Hayes.”
Ryan stared.
“My grandfather's lawyer.”
“Yes.”
“Why does he want the trust?”
“Because he doesn't want the money.”
“Then what?”
Thomas looked at Caleb's photograph.
“He wants the evidence buried with it.”
The door shook.
Then suddenly the pounding stopped.
Silence.
Thomas opened the small viewing slit.
Nobody was there.
Only a folded note lay on the ground.
He picked it up.
It contained one sentence:
THE BOY IS NOT SAFE IN HIS OWN HOUSE.
Thomas looked at Ryan.
“Take Caleb somewhere secure.”
“Where?”
Thomas looked at me.
“Your father left a safe house.”
“Where?”
May you like
Thomas smiled.
“Under the lake house.”
