Chapter 8: The Letter Richard Left Behind
I didn't sleep.
Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Richard Carter's handwriting and heard the warning in his letter.
Do not believe her.
By six in the morning, I had read the photographed letter so many times that I could recite most of it from memory.
The image was incomplete. Several lines were missing, and the final paragraph had been cut off. Whoever sent it wanted me to know enough to become suspicious, but not enough to understand the truth.
At eight, Adrian Bell arrived at Camille's apartment.
He was tall, neatly dressed, and carried the same dark leather folder Elena had described.
I didn't invite him inside immediately.
“Identification,” I said.
He produced a private investigator's license and a business card.
I checked both carefully before stepping aside.
Camille remained in the kitchen with Lily while Adrian and I sat at the dining table.
“Before you tell me anything,” I said, “I want to know who hired you.””
He placed the folder on the table.
“I was hired by the independent trustee responsible for reviewing a claim connected to Richard Carter's estate.””
“Name?””
“Margaret Ellis.””
“Why would a trustee hire a private investigator?””
“Because someone submitted documents that appeared to conflict with the original trust records.””
“Diane?””
“Initially, we suspected her. Then we discovered that several documents had been altered before they reached the trustee.””
I studied him.
“And you went to the hospital to investigate?””
“I went to meet Diane. She told me the hospital had already confirmed that your daughter's records were unreliable. She wanted me to obtain information supporting that claim.””
“Did you?””
“No.””
“Why?””
“Because the hospital hadn't authorized me to access the records. Diane expected me to find evidence without following the proper procedures.””
He opened his folder and removed several photocopies.
“These are documents submitted in connection with the beneficiary amendment. The first is the original request. The second is the revised version.””
I examined them.
The original request asked the trustee to review the identities of all potential beneficiaries.
The revised version added a clause requiring disputed parentage claims to be resolved before any inheritance could be distributed.
“Who added that clause?””
“The electronic file history suggests it was inserted after Marcus signed the original instruction.””
“Can you prove who did it?””
“Not yet.””
I looked up.
“Why should I believe any of this?””
“You shouldn't accept my conclusions without independent verification. That's why I've brought copies rather than asking you to rely on my word.””
He slid another document toward me.
It was a letter from Richard Carter to his estate lawyer, dated five years before his death.
I will not allow my personal mistakes to be used against the children. Elaine's daughter is mine, and I want the trust to protect her if she ever chooses to come forward.
My throat tightened.
“He acknowledged Rebecca.””
“Yes.””
“Then why did Diane tell Marcus it was a scam?””
“Because acknowledging Rebecca would have changed the family's inheritance arrangements. The original trust allocated most of the estate to Marcus, with provisions for future descendants. A verified claim from Rebecca's branch would require the trustee to reassess those distributions.””
I stared at the letter.
“Was Diane named as a beneficiary?””
“Yes. She receives income from part of the estate during her lifetime. But she does not have unrestricted authority over the principal.””
“Could Rebecca's claim reduce what Diane receives?””
“It could affect the estate's overall distribution. The precise impact depends on the trust's interpretation.””
I leaned back.
“So she had a financial reason to keep Rebecca hidden.””
“A possible motive,” Adrian corrected.
“Not proof of wrongdoing.””
I appreciated that he kept making the distinction.
“What about the original birth certificate?”” I asked.
“The message I received says Richard left evidence proving the truth.””
Adrian's expression changed.
“Where did you get that message?””
“An unknown number sent me a photograph of his letter.””
“May I see it?””
I handed him my phone.
He studied the photograph, then compared the handwriting with the documents in his folder.
“This appears consistent with Richard's handwriting, but we would need the original to authenticate it.””
“Who sent it?””
“I don't know.””
“Could it have been you?””
“No.””
He answered without hesitation.
I believed him, though I wasn't sure why.
“Do you know where the original letter is?””
“Richard kept a locked archive in his study. Diane told the trustee that the archive had been destroyed after his death.””
“Did you believe her?””
“No. The inventory lists several sealed document boxes that were never accounted for.””
I thought of Marcus's study.
Diane had been there often after Richard died. She had organized his papers, arranged the estate sale, and decided which personal belongings should be kept.
If Richard had left evidence of Rebecca's identity, Diane might have known exactly where it was.
My phone rang.
Marcus.
I answered on speaker.
“Nia, I need you to listen carefully,” he said.
“Mom is coming to the house this morning to collect some documents from Dad's study.””
“Which documents?””
“She won't tell me.””
“Have you asked her?””
“Yes. She said they're personal papers and that I don't need to concern myself with them.””
I looked at Adrian.
He made a small motion for me to continue.
“Marcus, don't let her remove anything until the trustee confirms what belongs to the estate.””
“I tried. She said I have no right to interfere because the study was hers to organize.””
“It's your father's archive.””
“Exactly.””
His voice dropped.
“Nia, I found something in the desk last night. A receipt from a storage company. It lists three sealed boxes transferred out of the house six months after Dad died.””
Adrian leaned closer to the phone.
“Mr. Carter, this is Adrian Bell. Do you have the storage company's name?””
Marcus paused.
“You're the investigator?””
“Yes.””
“I have the receipt. The company is called Northbridge Secure Storage.””
Adrian wrote the name down.
“Do you know who authorized the transfer?””
“My mother.””
I felt a chill.
“Marcus, can you send us a photograph of the receipt?””
“I already sent it to the trustee. But there's something else.””
“What?””
He took a breath.
“The storage company called me this morning. Someone has requested that all three boxes be destroyed.””
Adrian stood.
“When?””
“Today. At noon.””
He checked his watch.
It was 9:23 a.m.
“Mr. Carter, you need to contact the trustee immediately and request a preservation order. Do not attempt to remove the boxes yourself.””
“Why?””
“Because if those records are relevant to an investigation, we need to preserve the chain of custody.””
Marcus sounded frightened.
“Do you think my mother is trying to destroy evidence?””
“I think the timing requires urgent attention.””
The call ended.
Adrian packed his documents.
“I need to contact the trustee and the authorities. You should remain here with your sister and your daughter.””
I stood.
“I'm coming with you.””
“Mrs. Carter—”
“Those records could explain why someone used my daughter's identity. I'm not sitting in another room while other people decide what happens to her.””
He studied me, then nodded.
“Very well. But we do this properly.””
At 10:41, we arrived at Northbridge Secure Storage.
The manager met us in a small office that smelled of printer ink and stale coffee. Adrian showed his credentials and explained that there was an urgent dispute concerning three sealed boxes.
The manager looked uncomfortable.
“I'm afraid I can't release customer information without authorization.””
“We're not asking you to release the contents,” Adrian said.
“We need you to preserve the boxes and any associated access records while the trustee obtains the appropriate order.””
The manager glanced at his computer.
“Someone did call this morning.””
“Who?””
“A woman. She identified herself as Diane Carter.””
My stomach tightened.
“What did she ask you to do?”” I said.
“Destroy the boxes. She said the storage agreement had expired and that the contents were no longer required.””
“Did she provide written authorization?””
“Yes.””
He turned his monitor toward us.
A signed instruction appeared on the screen.
The signature looked almost identical to the one on the trust amendment.
Almost.
Adrian photographed the document and immediately called the trustee.
While he spoke, I studied the screen.
The signature had the same stiff letters, the same unnatural spacing, the same missing loop through the C.
Someone was forging Diane's name.
Or Diane was using a signature that didn't belong to her.
The manager suddenly leaned forward.
“There's something else.””
He opened a different record.
“The woman who called wasn't the first person to request the destruction.””
“Who was?”” Adrian asked.
“A man named Thomas Vance. He contacted us yesterday and claimed to be acting on behalf of the Carter estate.””
Adrian's expression hardened.
“Did he provide identification?””
“Yes.””
“Can you show us?””
The manager opened the scanned visitor record.
The photograph showed a man in his forties with dark hair, a gray suit, and a leather folder.
The same man Elena had seen near the hospital records station.
Adrian stared at the image.
“Thomas Vance,” he whispered.
“He's the estate's former compliance consultant.””
I looked at him.
“Former?””
“He was dismissed six months ago after an audit revealed irregularities in several beneficiary files.””
The manager pointed toward the bottom of the screen.
“There's a note attached to his request.””
Adrian read it aloud.
Destroy the boxes before the beneficiary arrives. No further verification required.
I felt my blood run cold.
“Which beneficiary?”” I asked.
The manager scrolled down.
May you like
A name appeared beside the instruction.
Rebecca Shaw.
