Gerald Mason did not look like a man capable of frightening anyone.
He was seventy if he was a day, narrow through the shoulders, wearing tan trousers and a faded red baseball cap with the logo of a hardware store that had closed years earlier.
Yet Colin Mercer stopped smiling.
“Gerald.”
“Colin.”
“You shouldn't be here.”
Gerald tucked the red ledger beneath one arm. “You say that every time.”
Mercer's companion shifted his jacket.
Gerald noticed.
“So does your friend intend to shoot an old accountant in broad daylight?”
The man's hand stopped.
Gerald looked toward a security camera mounted above the storage row.
“Interesting career choice.”
Mercer glanced up.
His expression changed.
He took one step backward.
“This isn't finished.”
“No,” Gerald said. “It isn't.”
Mercer looked at me.
“Forty-seven hours.”
He returned to the SUV.
The second man followed.
They drove away.
For several seconds nobody moved.
Then Lucas exhaled.
“I officially love this old guy.”
Gerald looked at him.
“You must be Lucas.”
Lucas blinked. “How do you know?”
“You have your grandfather's mouth.”
Marisol came forward. “You know us?”
“I know of you.”
Daniel looked at the red book.
“You should probably explain everything.”
Gerald nodded. “I should have done that years ago.”
We left the storage facility and drove separately to Gerald's office.
His accounting practice occupied the second floor of a brick building above a bakery.
Nothing about it suggested hidden fortunes or criminal networks.
Inside, file cabinets lined the walls.
Gerald locked the door behind us.
Robert remained near the entrance.
Gerald looked at him.
“You look terrible.”
Robert gave a short laugh. “Good to see you too.”
“You were warned.”
“By everybody, apparently.”
Gerald removed his cap.
“Your father-in-law warned you. Your mother-in-law warned you. I warned you.”
I looked between them.
“You two know each other.”
Gerald nodded.
“Unfortunately.”
Robert sat.
I remained standing.
“Open the book.”
Gerald looked at me.
“Your father would want you to understand context.”
“My father is dead.”
The words came out sharper than I intended.
Gerald accepted them.
“Yes.”
“My mother is dead.”
“Yes.”
“And everyone who claims they wanted to protect me has spent years deciding what I'm allowed to know.”
Gerald placed the red ledger on his desk.
“Then we should stop doing that.”
He opened it.
Every page contained handwritten figures.
Dates.
Account numbers.
Property addresses.
Initials.
Some entries had been circled in red ink.
Daniel leaned over.
“These are transactions.”
“Yes.”
“Whose?”
“Your grandmother's.”
I looked at Gerald.
“You knew about the money.”
“I helped create the structures.”
“How much did she actually have?”
“At the highest point, a little over seven million.”
Marisol sat slowly.
Lucas whispered, “Grandma had seven million dollars?”
Gerald smiled faintly. “Your grandmother didn't believe wealth required advertising.”
That sounded exactly like her.
“Where did it come from?” I asked.
“Land.”
“What land?”
“Your grandparents purchased several parcels when this city was expanding. Cheap acreage. Industrial lots. Two apartment buildings.”
“My father never told me.”
“Your father disliked talking about money.”
“That is apparently a family disease.”
Gerald's expression softened.
“Fair.”
He turned several pages.
“Victor Hale became involved after one property sale produced a large amount of capital. Your mother wanted diversification. Victor was recommended by a bank executive.”
“And he stole from her.”
“Eventually.”
“How much?”
“We could prove just under nine hundred thousand.”
Robert spoke from the corner.
“That's not the full number.”
Gerald looked at him.
“No.”
“How much?” Daniel asked.
“Possibly three million.”
Silence.
I touched one of the circled entries.
“And my father discovered it.”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“He noticed that property valuations didn't match recorded loan amounts.”
Gerald pointed to several entries.
“Victor was moving money through shell companies.”
“Companies in my name?”
“Later.”
My stomach tightened.
“Why me?”
Gerald looked toward Robert.
“Because Victor needed someone to blame.”
I followed his gaze.
“Robert?”
“He was the first choice.”
Robert stared at the floor.
Gerald continued.
“Your father distrusted Robert. Victor noticed.”
“That seems convenient.”
“It was.”
“What did Victor do?”
“He began engineering transactions that appeared connected to Robert.”
Daniel leaned forward.
“Using forged authorizations?”
“Some. Others used legitimate signatures obtained for unrelated reasons.”
Robert spoke quietly. “He had me sign documents.”
“How many?”
“I don't know.”
Gerald gave him a tired look. “Too many.”
I turned to Robert.
“What did you think you were signing?”
“Investment agreements.”
“With my mother?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“She said she wanted me involved.”
I felt something old and bitter shift inside me.
“Did she?”
Robert looked at Gerald.
Gerald shook his head.
“No.”
Robert closed his eyes.
I stared at Gerald. “So Victor manipulated Robert.”
“Yes.”
“And Dad realized it.”
“Eventually.”
“What happened then?”
Gerald turned another page.
A date appeared.
Nine days before my father's death.
Beside it was one sentence.
V.H. KNOWS PETER HAS COPIES.
Peter.
My father.
My throat tightened.
“What does that mean?”
Gerald removed his glasses.
“Your father copied everything.”
“Where are the copies?”
“That key should answer that.”
I took the brass key from my pocket.
“317.”
Gerald nodded.
“Union Trust Bank.”
Daniel frowned. “They closed five years ago.”
“The safe deposit holdings transferred to another institution.”
“Which?”
Gerald wrote an address.
I stared at him.
“You knew where the key went.”
“Yes.”
“Then why leave it in storage?”
“Because the box isn't mine.”
“Could Victor access it?”
“No.”
“Robert?”
“No.”
“Me?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Your father placed it in your name.”
I looked toward Robert.
His face had tightened.
“What's inside?”
Gerald answered carefully.
“Your father's evidence.”
“Evidence of theft?”
“And more.”
My skin prickled.
“What does ‘more’ mean?”
Gerald closed the ledger.
“Your father's death.”
The office became silent.
I heard the faint hum of the ventilation system.
A truck outside.
Someone laughing on the sidewalk below.
Ordinary sounds continuing while my life divided into before and after.
“My father died in a car accident.”
Gerald looked at me.
“That was the official conclusion.”
“No.”
“Elena.”
“No.”
Robert stood.
I turned toward him.
“You knew.”
His face crumpled slightly.
“Not then.”
“When?”
“After.”
“How long after?”
“Your mother's funeral.”
I could barely breathe.
“You have known for four years?”
“I suspected.”
“You knew enough to destroy our marriage.”
“Elena—”
I stepped away from him.
“Don't.”
Gerald raised a hand.
“Robert didn't know everything.”
“He knew more than I did.”
“Yes.”
“So did you.”
Gerald accepted the accusation.
“Yes.”
Daniel moved beside me.
“What evidence suggests Grandpa's accident wasn't accidental?”
Gerald opened the ledger again.
“There were withdrawals from an account associated with Victor two days before Peter died.”
“That proves nothing.”
“Correct.”
“Anything else?”
“Your father received threats.”
“Documented?”
“Yes.”
“Where?”
“In box 317.”
I closed my eyes.
My father had received threats.
And nobody told me.
Gerald continued carefully.
“The mechanic who examined Peter's vehicle after the crash reported that a brake line appeared recently damaged.”
Daniel's face changed.
“Reported to whom?”
“The insurance company.”
“Police?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“The mechanic disappeared before he could give a formal statement.”
Lucas stared.
“Disappeared?”
“Moved, supposedly.”
“Supposedly?”
“No one could find him afterward.”
Marisol moved closer to me.
I looked at Gerald.
“Did Mom know?”
“Yes.”
“When?”
“After the accident.”
“And she still kept Victor around?”
“For a time.”
“Why?”
“Because she was trying to find proof.”
I laughed once, helplessly.
“My seventy-year-old mother was investigating a man she thought might have killed her husband?”
Gerald's eyes filled.
“Your mother was considerably tougher than people assumed.”
That too sounded like her.
“What happened?”
“She discovered Victor was shifting his plan.”
“Toward me.”
“Yes.”
Gerald pointed to several companies.
“These were created using your identity.”
“How?”
“Documents copied from your mother's estate planning files. Tax information. Signatures.”
Daniel examined the entries.
“Identity fraud on a massive scale.”
“Yes.”
“What was the objective?”
“To make it appear that you received the missing money.”
My stomach turned.
“So if everything collapsed—”
“You would look responsible.”
Robert finished quietly.
I turned toward him.
“And where did you fit?”
“I was supposed to look like your partner.”
I understood.
The affair.
The divorce.
The distance.
“You left so there would be a public reason for us to be separate.”
Robert nodded.
“Your mother thought if Victor believed I hated you, he'd stop treating us as a team.”
“Did he?”
“For a while.”
“Vanessa.”
Robert's face tightened.
“Real relationship?”
He took a long time to answer.
“At first, no.”
Marisol stared.
“What does that mean?”
“Vanessa worked for Victor.”
The room erupted.
Lucas swore.
Daniel demanded clarification.
Marisol laughed in disbelief.
I simply stared at Robert.
“She was planted?”
“Yes.”
“And you knew?”
“Not initially.”
“When did you learn?”
“Four months after I left.”
“Did you continue seeing her?”
His eyes dropped.
“Yes.”
That hurt in a way the larger betrayals hadn't.
Perhaps because it was smaller.
Human.
Understandable.
Therefore unforgivable in a different way.
“So even after discovering she was using you, you stayed.”
“I was trying to learn what she knew.”
“And sleeping with her helped the investigation?”
Robert flinched.
Gerald closed his eyes.
Marisol turned away.
I felt strangely calm.
“You don't get to transform every betrayal into sacrifice.”
Robert looked at me.
“I know.”
“Don't.”
He stopped.
Daniel returned his attention to Gerald.
“If Victor wanted Mom blamed, why is he now trying to seize the house?”
Gerald looked at the key.
“Because Peter hid something in box 317 that Victor has spent six years trying to recover.”
“What?”
“I don't know.”
Robert looked skeptical. “You expect us to believe that?”
“Yes.”
“You had the ledger.”
“I had one ledger.”
Gerald tapped the cover.
“Peter kept the most dangerous evidence separate.”
My phone buzzed on the desk.
Unknown number.
A new message.
A photograph.
The image showed the front of Gerald's building.
Taken from across the street.
Underneath:
THE OLD MAN SHOULD HAVE STAYED RETIRED.
Gerald read it.
His face showed no surprise.
I looked at the windows.
“Victor knows we're here.”
“Yes.”
“Then we go to the bank.”
Gerald shook his head.
“Not today.”
“Why?”
“Because they're expecting you to.”
Daniel understood.
“If we walk into that bank while they're watching, they'll know exactly where the box is.”
I held the brass key.
“Then how do we reach it?”
Gerald looked at Robert.
For the first time, something almost like sympathy crossed his face.
“We give Victor what he has wanted for years.”
Robert frowned.
“What?”
“A reason to believe Robert has betrayed you again.”
I stared at Gerald.
He continued.
“We let Victor think Robert stole the key.”
Robert laughed once.
“You want me to become bait.”
“No,” Gerald said.
“You already are.”
Click here to continue reading: PART 8: Robert Agreed to Betray Me One More Time, but Victor’s Response Exposed a Deception None of Us Had Considered
The Man Who Abandoned Us Appeared at My Door and Asked for the One Thing I Never Expected
Part 7 of 24
