Chapter 14 - THE PRICE OF TELLING THE TRUTH
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The threat changed everything.
Arthur ordered additional security at Rosewood and arranged for Rebecca and Sophia to stay at a protected residence. Vincent offered to accompany them, but Rebecca refused.
"You have spent years trying to solve this problem without telling the truth," she said. "We will not put our safety in your hands simply because you feel guilty now."
Vincent accepted her decision.
I understood why.
Trust was not something he could demand simply because he had finally begun to feel remorse.
Meanwhile, the attorney discovered that the threat had been sent through a private courier service paid by the same overseas company that received the missing trust funds.
The evidence suggested that the person behind Margaret's identity knew the investigation was closing in.
Then the first witness disappeared.
A former accountant named Thomas Reed had agreed to testify that the consulting firm was a front. He had worked with Margaret before her supposed death and claimed that she had been investigating the transfers.
The morning of his scheduled interview, his apartment was empty.
His car remained in the garage.
His passport was gone.
Arthur looked at Vincent.
"Find him."
Vincent nodded.
For the first time, he did not ask permission to help. He simply began making calls.
By evening, he had located a security recording showing Thomas entering a private office building near the river. A woman in a dark coat had met him there.
The woman's face was hidden, but her posture matched the figure in Rebecca's photograph.
Margaret Ellis.
Vincent and I reviewed the footage together.
"Do you recognize her?" I asked.
"No."
"You worked with her for years."
"I met her twice. Grandmother handled most of her legal affairs privately."
I paused the recording.
"Look at her left hand."
A small ring glinted beneath the sleeve.
It was shaped like two intertwined leaves.
The same design as the clasp on my bracelet.
I felt cold.
"Who else owns that ring?"
Vincent studied the image.
"My mother."
I stared at him.
"Evelyn?"
He nodded slowly.
"Grandmother gave one to every woman who served as a trustee of the family charity. Mother stopped wearing hers years ago."
"Where is she now?"
"Recovering at home."
I looked at him.
"Then we need to speak to her."
We drove to Evelyn's house that night. She was resting in her sitting room, still recovering from the collapse that had sent her to the hospital.
When Vincent showed her the photograph, her expression changed.
"Where did you get this?"
"Who is the woman?"
Evelyn looked toward the window.
"I thought Margaret was dead."
"Mother, who is she?"
Evelyn's voice trembled.
"Margaret Ellis was my closest friend."
Silence filled the room.
Then she said something that neither of us expected.
"But the woman in that photograph isn't Margaret."
Vincent leaned forward.
"Then who is she?"
Evelyn looked at me.
"Someone who has been living under a dead woman's name."
May you like
She paused.
"And someone who knows what really happened to Eleanor."
