Chapter 6 - THE TWO-MILLION-DOLLAR ACCOUNTI wanted Margaret to deny everything.
Some stupid part of me still wanted a simple villain.
Raymond.
Shaw.
Bellweather.
Anyone outside the family.
Instead, my mother-in-law sat in front of an FBI agent and admitted there was roughly two million dollars in an account under her name.
“How long has that money been there?” Alvarez asked.
Margaret stared at her hands.
“Five years.”
“Since Sarah died?”
“Since three days after.”
I stood so quickly the chair scraped backward.
“You knew?”
Margaret looked up.
“David—”
“You knew somebody deposited millions into your account after your daughter died?”
“Yes.”
“And you said nothing?”
“I was terrified.”
That word again.
Everyone had been terrified.
Mark.
Margaret.
Sarah.
Meanwhile I had been allowed to believe the woman I loved died because of rain.
Alvarez held up a hand.
“Mr. Carter, let me question her.”
I remained standing.
“Mrs. Ellis, describe exactly what happened.”
Margaret took a long breath.
“Three days after Sarah's funeral, I received a call.”
“From whom?”
“A man.”
“Did you recognize his voice?”
“No.”
“What did he say?”
“He told me to check my bank balance.”
She had.
There was $2,037,500 in an account she rarely used.
“Why did you have that account?” Alvarez asked.
“It was an old inheritance account. My husband set it up when my father died.”
“Who knew about it?”
“My husband. Sarah. My accountant.”
“Anyone else?”
“Not that I know of.”
“What did the caller say after you checked?”
Margaret closed her eyes.
“He said Sarah had made mistakes.”
My jaw tightened.
“He said the money was insurance.”
“Insurance against what?”
“Me talking.”
“About?”
“The brake repair.”
There it was.
The payoff wasn't proof she was guilty.
It was hush money.
“What did you do?”
“I told him I would go to police.”
“What did he say?”
Margaret looked toward me.
“He knew Lily's preschool.”
My anger briefly lost its target.
The same threat.
Again.
“They used Lily against everybody,” Mark whispered.
Margaret nodded.
“I withdrew nothing. I spent nothing.”
“Why didn't you tell federal authorities?”
“I was ashamed.”
Alvarez's expression remained neutral.
“Of receiving money you didn't ask for?”
“Of being afraid.”
That answer I understood more than I wanted to.
“Did you ever attempt to return it?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“I was told moving the money would be interpreted as breaking our agreement.”
“What agreement?”
“There wasn't one. Not formally.”
“But you understood the threat.”
“Yes.”
Alvarez took notes.
“Did the caller contact you again?”
“Twice. Once when David started asking questions about Sarah's accident about a year later.”
I looked at her.
“I asked you whether Sarah had seemed distracted.”
“I remember.”
“You told me grief was making me obsessive.”
Tears filled her eyes.
“I needed you to stop.”
“You gaslighted me.”
“Yes.”
That admission hurt.
“And the second call?”
“Yesterday.”
The room went still.
“When?”
“Before I received the letter.”
“What did they say?”
“Only three words.”
Alvarez waited.
Margaret whispered:
“It's happening again.”
“What did you think that meant?”
“I didn't know.”
Then the anonymous letter arrived.
Check the child's bear.
Someone wanted the evidence found while someone else wanted it buried.
Two factions?
Maybe.
Agent Alvarez requested immediate protection for Lily.
This time I didn't argue.
By afternoon, Shaw had disappeared.
He failed to report for duty.
His phone went dead.
His wife claimed she hadn't seen him since morning.
Raymond Cole's office was empty.
Charles Bellweather, however, was still at work.
And surprisingly, he agreed to be interviewed.
That evening, Alvarez returned.
“Bellweather says he suspected internal fraud but believed Raymond was handling an employee theft investigation.”
“Convenient.”
“Possibly true.”
“Sarah believed Bellweather was stealing too.”
“She had evidence showing his signature.”
“Exactly.”
“Several signatures appear digitally inserted.”
I frowned.
“Forged?”
“Potentially.”
That changed things.
“Does Bellweather know Margaret?”
“He says he met her twice at foundation events.”
“Anything else?”
“No.”
“Do you believe him?”
Alvarez gave the answer of somebody who had been trained never to answer that question.
“I believe evidence.”
Fair enough.
The forensic team uncovered another deleted file.
A ledger created by Michael Grant.
It mapped millions in stolen funds.
At the center wasn't Bellweather.
It was Raymond Cole.
But Raymond had partners.
One was Shaw.
The third was listed only as:
W.
“Who is W?” I asked.
“We don't know.”
Another document contained dates.
Payments.
Initials.
After Sarah died, Raymond paid Shaw $180,000 through a shell company.
Clear enough.
But payment to W was much larger.
$3.2 million.
Then I noticed something.
The dates.
One payment to W occurred two hours after Margaret received her anonymous letter.
“This is still active.”
Alvarez looked at me.
“Yes.”
“Someone is still paying someone.”
“Yes.”
“For what?”
“We're working on that.”
I thought about the message.
It's happening again.
Maybe another person had discovered the fraud.
Another Sarah.
“Check current Bellweather employees.”
“We are.”
“What if somebody else found the records?”
“We're examining that possibility.”
At 6:15 p.m., Alvarez's phone rang.
She listened.
Her expression changed.
“What?”
She ended the call.
“A Bellweather accountant didn't arrive for work today.”
My stomach tightened.
“Name?”
“Emily Watson.”
“Family?”
“Husband. Two children.”
“Has anyone contacted her?”
“Phone off.”
The pattern was repeating.
Sarah discovers fraud.
Sarah becomes frightened.
Sarah dies.
Now Emily Watson.
I stood.
“Find her.”
“We are.”
“Faster.”
Alvarez looked at me.
“We're trying.”
Then my prepaid phone buzzed.
Another anonymous text.
A location.
No explanation.
An abandoned warehouse near the river.
I showed Alvarez.
“Could be a trap.”
“Could be Emily.”
“Either way, you're not going.”
“You think I'm staying here?”
“Yes.”
“No.”
“Mr. Carter—”
“My daughter was threatened. My wife was murdered. I spent five years not knowing because everybody decided I needed protection.”
I looked directly at her.
“I'm done sitting in rooms while other people decide what I can handle.”
Alvarez stared at me for a long moment.
Then said, “You ride with us.”
Ten minutes later we were moving.
Four federal vehicles.
No sirens.
Mark stayed with Lily.
Margaret insisted on coming but was denied.
The warehouse sat near an abandoned industrial yard.
Agents entered first.
I stayed inside the vehicle exactly as instructed.
Five minutes felt like fifty.
Then the radio crackled.
They found someone.
Alive.
Emily Watson emerged wrapped in a blanket.
Her hands were bound.
Bruised but walking.
Two agents supported her.
Alvarez approached.
Emily said something.
Alvarez looked sharply toward the warehouse.
Agents moved again.
Ten minutes later they brought out a man.
Detective Shaw.
Handcuffed.
Blood on his shirt from what appeared to be a cut on his forehead.
His eyes found me.
He smiled.
That smile made my skin crawl.
As agents pushed him toward a vehicle, he called:
“David!”
I stepped forward before Alvarez stopped me.
Shaw laughed.
“You still don't know.”
“Know what?”
“Sarah wasn't supposed to die.”
I stared.
“What?”
“That wasn't the plan.”
“Who killed her?”
Shaw smiled wider.
“You're asking the wrong question.”
“Then what's the right one?”
He leaned forward.
“Ask who was driving the second car.”
“Raymond?”
Shaw laughed.
“No.”
He glanced at Alvarez.
“Ask your mother-in-law.”
Margaret.
Again.
I took one step toward him.
Agents blocked me.
“What does Margaret know?”
May you like
Shaw's smile disappeared.
“She knows exactly who drove that car.”
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