Judge Harold Keene appeared three times in Victor’s ledger.
The first payment was twenty-five thousand dollars.
The second was fifteen.
The third was listed only as PROPERTY CONSIDERATION.
All three occurred during years when Keene worked as a commercial attorney, before he became a judge.
“That doesn’t automatically mean bribery,” Patrice said.
Marianne gave her a tired look.
“No. But I drafted the property consideration.”
“What was it?”
“A lake cabin.”
“For legal work?”
“For making a foreclosure disappear.”
Patrice stared at her.
“You understand you are admitting to potentially serious crimes.”
“I understood that eleven years ago.”
“Then why keep talking?”
Marianne looked at me.
“Because Daniel died and I didn’t.”
The room became quiet.
There was no triumph in her face.
Only exhaustion.
Patrice immediately began preparing a disclosure concerning the conflict and seeking review from another judge.
Time became the enemy.
The sale was scheduled for eleven the next morning.
We had less than twelve hours.
Evan continued examining the trust documents while I listened again to Daniel’s recordings.
His voice filled Patrice’s conference room.
Alive.
Angry.
Afraid.
Each time he spoke, memory supplied his face.
I could see him leaning against Daddy’s truck.
Laughing too loudly at Thanksgiving.
Rolling his eyes when I asked him to fix something.
Then came the moment from the second recording.
I don’t feel right.
My stomach tightened every time.
“Stop.”
The forensic technician paused the audio.
“What?”
“There’s something behind Marianne’s voice.”
He rewound.
Daniel asked whether she had put something in his drink.
Marianne told him to sit down.
Behind them came a faint sound.
A telephone.
Not ringing.
A voice.
Someone speaking through a speakerphone.
The technician isolated the channel and raised the volume.
Static.
Then a man’s voice.
“…keep him there.”
Marianne went pale.
“That wasn’t on the copy I heard.”
The technician adjusted frequencies.
The voice became clearer.
Keep him there until I arrive.
I looked at Marianne.
“Who?”
“I don’t know.”
“You were there.”
“I don’t remember hearing that.”
“Was somebody on the phone?”
She closed her eyes.
“Yes.”
“Who?”
“Victor.”
My pulse quickened.
“Victor was coming?”
“I thought so.”
“Did he?”
“No.”
“Then whose voice is that?”
She shook her head.
The technician replayed it.
Keep him there until I arrive.
Something about the voice bothered me.
Not because I recognized it immediately.
Because I almost did.
“Again.”
He played it.
Keep him there until I arrive.
Dale.
Older recordings distort voices.
Eleven years changed them too.
But I had listened to that man speak beside me for twenty-six years.
“That’s Dale.”
Marianne stared at the computer.
“No.”
“Yes.”
“He wasn’t coming.”
“How do you know?”
“Because he told me he was at home with you.”
I remembered that night.
Dale had been home.
Until approximately nine.
Then he told me a roofing customer had an emergency leak.
He left.
He returned after midnight.
I had forgotten.
Or never understood that it mattered.
“What time was this recording?”
The technician checked.
Nine twenty-eight.
Dale could have reached Daniel within twenty minutes.
“Did he arrive?”
Marianne shook her head.
“I left with Daniel in the ambulance.”
“What happened to the drink?”
“It stayed behind.”
“Who had access?”
“Anyone with a key.”
“Where were you?”
“Daniel’s workshop.”
I stared at her.
“Unit 214?”
“No. His private workshop near Riverside.”
“Who had a key?”
“Daniel.”
“Who else?”
She looked at me.
“Dale.”
My chest tightened.
Evan leaned forward.
“Did Victor?”
“No.”
That changed the geometry of the night.
Victor supplied the bottle.
Marianne poured the drink.
Daniel became ill.
Dale told someone to keep him there.
Dale possessed access to the building.
And Daniel died the next day.
“Did Dale ever arrive at the hospital before me?” I asked.
Marianne nodded.
“Yes.”
“How?”
“I called him from the ambulance.”
“And he arrived?”
“Before Renee.”
I remembered.
Dale had been there when I reached the emergency department.
He hugged me.
He told me Daniel had suffered a massive cerebral hemorrhage.
He already knew more than I did.
“What did he do while Daniel was being treated?”
Marianne thought.
“He talked to Dr. Vance.”
My skin went cold.
“Privately?”
“Yes.”
“How long?”
“Several minutes.”
I looked at the ledger.
Victor paid Vance forty thousand dollars three days before Daniel died.
Twenty thousand five days afterward.
“Did Dale know about those payments?”
“I don’t know.”
“Could he?”
“Yes.”
“Could he authorize them?”
“At that time? No.”
“Who could?”
“Victor.”
I looked at Evan.
“Where was Victor that night?”
He hesitated.
“According to the ledger notes, Jacksonville.”
“Florida?”
“Yes.”
“Can that be verified?”
“Possibly.”
If Victor had been hundreds of miles away, he could still have arranged something.
But Dale had been local.
Dale had access.
Dale had motive to stop Daniel.
And Dale had volunteered, twice, that he had not killed him.
My phone buzzed.
A message from Emily.
Home safe. Door locked. Dad keeps calling.
I typed back.
Do not answer. Do not open the door for him.
Then another message arrived.
Not Emily.
Dale.
We need to meet before 11.
I showed Patrice.
“Don’t respond yet.”
A second message.
Daniel was wrong about me.
Then a third.
Marianne knows who killed him.
I looked across the table.
Marianne read my face.
“What?”
I showed her.
She became very still.
“He’s trying to turn you against me.”
“He doesn’t need much help.”
“I did not kill Daniel.”
“Who did?”
“I don’t know.”
“That answer is becoming impossible to believe.”
She stood and walked toward the window.
For a long time she said nothing.
Then:
“Daniel called me from the hospital.”
I stared at her.
“You said he was unconscious.”
“Later.”
“When did he call?”
“Early the next morning.”
“What did he say?”
“He asked me to come.”
“Did you?”
“Yes.”
“Was Dale there?”
“Not in the room.”
“What did Daniel tell you?”
Her eyes filled.
“He said someone had been inside the workshop before our meeting.”
“Who?”
“He didn’t know.”
“What did he notice?”
“The bourbon bottle had already been opened.”
My pulse quickened.
“You poured from an open bottle.”
“Yes.”
“Did you know that at the time?”
“I noticed the seal was broken. I assumed Daniel had opened it.”
“What else?”
“He said papers on his desk had been moved.”
“Which papers?”
“Copies of insurance assignments.”
The life policies.
The suspicious deaths.
Daniel had been investigating the part of Victor’s operation that might expose something far worse than financial fraud.
“Did Daniel say Dale moved them?”
“No.”
“Victor?”
“No.”
“Then what?”
“He said there was only one person besides him who had a key.”
Dale.
I closed my eyes.
“Why did you hide this?”
“Because Daniel asked me to.”
I looked at her.
“Why?”
“He said if Dale was responsible, he needed proof before you were told.”
Even while dying, Daniel had worried about what an accusation would do to me.
“What happened after you left his room?”
“Dr. Vance came in.”
“How long later did Daniel lose consciousness?”
“About forty minutes.”
“Did he speak again?”
“Not to me.”
I looked toward the forensic technician.
“Were there other recordings on the drive?”
“No.”
“What about the cassettes from the farmhouse?”
Patrice and I looked at each other.
We had cataloged them.
We had not listened to them.
The technician retrieved the digitized copies.
The first cassette contained meetings between Daniel and Victor.
Victor’s voice was calm.
Almost paternal.
He talked about restructuring debt.
Daniel accused him of forging signatures.
Victor denied direct involvement.
Then Daniel said something that made everyone in the room stop.
“You paid Vance.”
Victor laughed.
“For what?”
“You know for what.”
“No, Daniel. Tell me.”
“The policy cases.”
Silence.
Daniel continued.
“Three people died after you placed coverage on them.”
“People die.”
“Three borrowers?”
“Coincidence.”
“And their businesses ended up inside your collateral companies.”
“Contract enforcement.”
“You made money from their deaths.”
“I made money from defaults.”
“That isn’t what the records show.”
The tape clicked.
Then Victor said:
“If you’re going to accuse someone of murder, make sure you understand who benefited.”
The recording ended.
The second cassette began with Daniel speaking alone.
A diary.
“If Carol ever hears this, I need her to understand something.”
My throat tightened.
“I started looking at Victor because I thought he was manipulating Dale.”
Daniel paused.
“I was wrong.”
I gripped the edge of the table.
“Dale has been doing business with Victor longer than he admits.”
Another pause.
“I found the first loan.”
Paper rustled.
“Nineteen years ago.”
That was before Harris Commercial Roofing officially existed.
“Dale borrowed eighty thousand dollars. Victor didn’t lend it to the roofing company.”
Daniel’s voice lowered.
“He lent it to Dale personally.”
More paper.
“The collateral wasn’t the house.”
I held my breath.
“It was a key-person life policy.”
Whose?
Daniel answered.
“Mine.”
The room went completely silent.
My brother had been insured.
Not only me.
Daniel.
“Dale took out a policy on me before we ever discussed developing Dad’s land.”
I felt sick.
“He forged my consent.”
Daniel’s voice shook with anger.
“If I die while this policy is active, Harris Commercial Roofing receives the proceeds.”
I looked at Marianne.
She covered her mouth.
“Did you know?”
“No.”
The tape continued.
“I called the insurer. The policy is still active.”
Daniel breathed out.
“One point five million dollars.”
My stomach turned.
“Dale says Victor arranged it and he forgot it existed.”
Daniel gave a bitter laugh.
“I don’t believe him.”
Neither did I.
The recording jumped.
Different day.
Daniel sounded frightened.
“I found the beneficiary change.”
Paper rustled.
“Six months ago, Dale transferred the policy benefit from Harris Commercial Roofing to Lang Financial as collateral.”
I looked at Evan.
“That means Victor would get paid if Daniel died?”
“Yes.”
“But who received anything beyond the debt?”
“We need the payout records.”
Daniel continued.
“Victor gets eight hundred thousand.”
Pause.
“Dale gets the remainder.”
My hands went cold.
Seven hundred thousand dollars.
My husband had stood beside me at Daniel’s funeral.
And somewhere behind our grief was a policy that could pay him hundreds of thousands of dollars.
The tape continued.
“If something happens to me, follow the insurance money.”
Then a sound.
A door opening.
Daniel stopped speaking.
A male voice entered the room.
“What are you doing?”
Dale.
My heart hammered.
Daniel answered.
“Making sure somebody knows.”
“You need to stop.”
“I’m going to Carol.”
“You do that and you destroy her.”
“You already did.”
“I can fix it.”
“You said that before.”
“Give me the tapes.”
“No.”
“Daniel.”
“No.”
A scuffle.
Then Dale said something quietly.
The technician increased the volume.
“You have no idea what Victor will do if you expose the policies.”
Daniel answered:
“I know exactly what he does.”
The recording ended.
Nobody spoke for several seconds.
Then Evan’s phone rang.
He looked at the screen.
“My bank contact.”
He answered.
His expression changed while he listened.
“When?”
He looked at us.
“Are you certain?”
He ended the call.
“What happened?” Patrice asked.
“The payout.”
“What payout?”
“Daniel’s life-insurance policy.”
My mouth went dry.
“How much?”
“One point five million.”
“Who received it?”
“Lang Financial received eight hundred thousand.”
“And the rest?”
Evan stared at me.
“Seven hundred thousand went to Harris Commercial Roofing.”
Dale.
“Did he keep it?”
Evan shook his head.
“No.”
“Where did it go?”
“Three days later, Dale transferred almost all of it into the initial capital account for Harris Construction Holdings.”
My company.
The company created in my name.
The network had been funded not only with my father’s stolen land equity.
It had also been funded with money paid because my brother died.
I stood so quickly the chair struck the wall.
Patrice said my name.
I barely heard her.
For eleven years, I had wondered whether Daniel’s death had been random.
Now I knew Dale had profited from it.
Maybe that did not yet prove he caused it.
But it proved something else.
He had taken the money.
He had hidden it.
He had used it to expand the structure Daniel died trying to expose.
My phone rang again.
Dale.
This time I answered.
“Where are you?”
“Carol—”
“Where?”
“Atlanta.”
“Near the airport?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because I need to leave.”
“At eleven?”
Silence.
“The sale isn’t at eleven,” I said.
He did not answer.
“The sale is cover.”
Still nothing.
“You were never waiting for the transaction to finish.”
“Carol, listen to me.”
“You were leaving before anyone could stop it.”
“I have to.”
“Why?”
His breathing changed.
“Because Marianne isn’t the person you should be afraid of.”
“Then who?”
A pause.
When he answered, the confidence was gone.
“Victor’s partners.”
“Victor is dead.”
“Victor was never alone.”
“How many?”
“I don’t know.”
“Names.”
“I don’t know all of them.”
“Who do you know?”
“Keene.”
The judge.
“Vance.”
Daniel’s doctor.
“And?”
Silence.
“Dale.”
“One more.”
“Who?”
He said a name I recognized immediately.
Thomas Gentry.
The real-estate broker who had confirmed the land sale.
My stomach dropped.
“What did Gentry do?”
“He found properties.”
“For Victor?”
“Yes.”
“Why did he tell me the truth?”
“He didn’t.”
“What did he lie about?”
“The land.”
I gripped the phone.
“What about it?”
“The interstate connector was never the real reason Victor wanted your father’s property.”
“Then what was?”
Dale hesitated.
“There’s something buried there.”
“What?”
“I don’t know.”
“Money?”
“No.”
“What?”
“Records.”
My pulse quickened.
“What records?”
“Victor’s original books.”
Evan stood.
“Where?”
I repeated the question.
Dale’s answer came quietly.
“Under the old pond.”
The fishing pond.
The one place on Daddy’s property nobody had developed.
“What is in those books?”
“Everything Victor did before computers.”
“Loans?”
“Yes.”
“Insurance policies?”
“Yes.”
“Payments?”
“Yes.”
“Deaths?”
A long silence.
Then Dale said:
“Yes.”
I closed my eyes.
“Did you kill Daniel?”
His breath caught.
“Carol.”
“Answer me.”
“No.”
“Did you know he was going to be poisoned?”
“No.”
“Did you know Victor wanted him stopped?”
“Yes.”
“Did you warn Daniel?”
“No.”
“Why?”
Dale’s voice broke for the first time.
“Because I thought Victor was bluffing.”
I felt no sympathy.
“What happened to the seven hundred thousand dollars?”
“I put it into the company.”
“I know.”
“Carol, I didn’t ask for Daniel to die.”
“But you accepted the money.”
Silence.
“You took the money from his death and built the company he died trying to expose.”
“Yes.”
The word was barely audible.
I thought of my brother’s funeral.
Dale holding my hand.
Dale standing beside Renee.
Dale telling everyone how much he loved Daniel.
“You should have told me.”
“I know.”
“You should have told the police.”
“I know.”
“You should have walked away from Victor.”
“I couldn’t.”
“No.”
My voice became steady.
“You wouldn’t.”
Silence.
Then Dale said, “There’s one thing you need to do before tomorrow.”
“What?”
“Drain the pond.”
I looked at Evan.
“Why?”
“Because if Gentry realizes you found Daniel’s tapes, those records disappear.”
“How?”
“Gentry owns the excavation company with access to the property.”
My heart accelerated.
“Does he know we found the farmhouse safe?”
“I don’t know.”
A sound came through Dale’s phone.
Airport announcement.
He was leaving.
“Where are you flying?”
He did not answer.
“Costa Rica?”
“No.”
“Where?”
Another announcement.
Boarding.
Then Dale said:
“I’m sorry.”
The call ended.
I immediately called back.
Phone off.
Patrice was already moving.
“We notify federal authorities now.”
Evan gathered the ledgers.
Marianne stood beside the window.
“Carol.”
I looked at her.
“What?”
“The pond isn’t on land controlled by Harris Construction Holdings.”
“Whose land is it on?”
She pulled up the parcel map.
The pond sat just beyond the thirty-eight-acre tract.
On the farmhouse parcel.
The property Renee still owned.
Which meant Dale could not legally touch it.
Neither could Gentry.
But somebody already had.
Evan enlarged a satellite image taken two days earlier.
Fresh tire tracks crossed the field.
Heavy equipment.
The tracks ended at the pond.
I stared at them.
“They’re already there.”
Patrice grabbed her phone.
“Who?”
I looked at the map.
“Gentry.”
The man who had calmly answered our questions.
The man who had pretended Dale alone controlled the land deal.
The man whose name Dale had just placed inside Victor’s network.
If Victor’s original records were beneath that pond, Gentry knew exactly what we might find.
And according to the newest image, someone had started digging before we ever knew to look.
Click here to continue reading: PART 13: The Machinery Beside Daddy’s Pond Was Not Digging for Victor’s Records, and the Man Operating It Had Been Waiting for Me
Every Thursday at Two, My Favorite Client Talked About the Married Man I Slowly Realized Was My Husband
Part 12 of 20
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