Chapter 8 - A Debt Written in Blood|
I read the message three times before the meaning settled into my chest.
My stepmother had stolen my inheritance, threatened to throw me out of my own home, and spent years making me feel like a guest in the life my father had built.
But she was still the woman who had stood beside his hospital bed.
She was still the person who knew what happened during his final minutes.
And someone was threatening to kill her because of a ledger my father had hidden.
“Call the police,” I said.
Adrian was already dialing Evelyn.
“She's on her way to meet us.”
“That isn't what I said.”
“I heard you.”
“Then call the police.”
He looked at me.
“If the people behind this believe the ledger contains evidence that could put them away, they may panic. We need to protect Maureen before we decide what to reveal.”
“You don't get to decide whether she's protected.”
“No,” he said. “You do. But if we move without a plan, the people threatening her will know exactly where to find her.”
I hated that he was right.
We drove back toward the city while his men checked the streets around the café. Evelyn met us at a private office belonging to her law firm, where she reviewed the ledger and arranged for digital copies to be made.
“This is enough to justify a wider financial investigation,” she said. “It is not enough to prove who was responsible for Quinn's death.”
“Then what do we need?” I asked.
“The original recording, the missing will, and testimony from someone who knows how these transfers were arranged.”
“Daniel Mercer.”
“Exactly.”
Adrian stood beside the window, looking down at the street.
“If Daniel is alive, Victor Hale will be looking for him too.”
Evelyn closed the ledger.
“Which means we should assume every communication we make could be monitored.”
My phone rang.
Maureen.
I answered before Evelyn could stop me.
“Where are you?” Maureen demanded.
“At a lawyer's office.”
“Have you lost your mind? What have you told Adrian Cole?”
“Enough to know that Dad's will was hidden.”
Silence.
Then a sharp, bitter laugh.
“Your father was a sentimental fool. He trusted people who wanted to use him.”
“Did he trust you?”
Her breathing changed.
“You have no idea what I sacrificed to keep that café alive.”
“Then explain the money.”
“I don't owe you an explanation.”
“You owe me the truth.”
Maureen lowered her voice.
“Come home, Nora. We can settle this privately.”
“Why?”
“Because people are asking questions. Dangerous people.”
“Someone just threatened to kill you.”
The line went silent.
“How did you hear that?” she whispered.
I looked at Adrian.
He was watching me carefully.
“Because they sent me a message.”
Maureen began to cry.
It was the first time I had heard her cry without an audience.
“I didn't want things to happen this way,” she said.
“What things?”
“I thought I could fix it. I thought if I kept the accounts moving, I could repay everything before anyone noticed.”
“Repay what?”
She drew a shaky breath.
“Your father borrowed money from the wrong people.”
“That's not what the documents say.”
“He didn't tell you everything.”
“Then tell me.”
A sound came through the phone. A door closing, perhaps, followed by footsteps.
Maureen's voice dropped to a whisper.
“Victor said the money was temporary. He said he could keep the business alive if I signed a few papers. Your father was already ill, and the café was drowning in debt.”
“Did Dad know?”
“He found out.”
My fingers tightened around the phone.
“What happened when he found out?”
“I can't talk about this over the phone.”
“Where are you?”
“Home.”
“Stay there. I'm coming.”
“No!” Her answer was so sharp that I pulled the phone away from my ear. “Don't come here. Please, Nora. Just listen to me for once. I did terrible things, but I never wanted your father dead.”
My heart began to pound.
“Did you see who was with him when he died?”
She started to answer.
Then a loud crash erupted through the phone.
Maureen screamed.
The call disconnected.
I was on my feet before Adrian could speak.
“Take me home.”
He grabbed his keys.
“Evelyn, contact the police and send the address. Tell them we have a possible break-in and a direct threat.”
We reached the café in less than fifteen minutes.
The front door hung open.
A chair lay overturned near the register, and broken glass glittered beneath the window. The kitchen lights were on, but the apartment stairs were dark.
“Maureen!” I shouted.
No answer.
Adrian moved ahead of me, checking each room while his driver called out to the officers arriving behind us.
I ran upstairs.
Maureen's bedroom was empty. Her purse lay on the floor, its contents scattered across the carpet. The desk drawer had been torn open.
Then I saw the blood.
A thin smear marked the edge of the desk and continued toward the back door.
I followed it into the narrow hallway.
At the far end, someone had written a message on the wall in red.
THE BLUE LEDGER FOR THE ORIGINAL RECORDING.
Beneath it lay Maureen's wedding ring.
I picked it up with trembling fingers.
Adrian appeared behind me.
He looked at the ring, then at the message.
For the first time, I saw something in his expression that frightened me more than his anger.
Recognition.
“Nora,” he said quietly, “we need to talk about your father.”
I turned toward him.
“What do you know?”
May you like
He hesitated.
And in that hesitation, I realized that the secret surrounding my father's death might be more complicated than either of us had imagined.
