The blood inside Saint Agnes belonged to Eleanor.
We learned that before sunrise.
Not because the laboratory had performed some miracle of speed, but because a small medical kit had been found beside the pew where she apparently waited. Inside were insulin needles, alcohol wipes, and a glucose monitor marked with the name Eleanor Vale.
One used lancet carried enough blood for a preliminary comparison to material on the scarf.
“So the blood might not mean she was injured,” I said.
Detective Vega nodded.
“Correct.”
Relief arrived cautiously.
“Then why was the scarf on the floor?”
“We don’t know.”
“And the overturned chair?”
“We don’t know.”
“The note?”
“We know she wrote it.”
“How?”
“Same pad and pen found in her bag.”
I stared.
“Her bag was there?”
“Yes.”
“Phone?”
“Gone.”
“Wallet?”
“Still inside.”
That made no sense.
If someone abducted her, why leave identification?
If she fled, why leave money?
Ashley examined photographs Vega had allowed her to see.
“Was there another exit?”
“Sacristy door.”
“Camera?”
“Church system has been offline for months.”
“Convenient.”
“Very.”
A groundskeeper had seen an older dark sedan near the church around the time of Eleanor’s call but could not identify the driver.
Richard’s abandoned vehicle was a silver SUV.
Jason remained in custody.
That left unknown participants.
Or Eleanor herself.
“She might have left willingly,” Ashley said.
I turned.
“After calling us for help?”
“She has spent half a century disappearing whenever she believes danger is close.”
I hated the logic.
Vega’s phone rang.
She listened.
Then looked at me.
“Jason is requesting to speak with you.”
“No.”
“He says it concerns Eleanor.”
I stopped.
Ashley shook her head.
“Absolutely not without counsel present.”
“I’m her counsel.”
“You’re family.”
“I can be both.”
“You shouldn’t.”
“I can sit beside her.”
Vega interrupted.
“He specifically said Margaret alone.”
“Then definitely not,” Ashley said.
I looked at Vega.
“Can the call be recorded?”
“Yes.”
“Can Ashley listen?”
“If he agrees.”
“He won’t.”
“Probably not.”
I thought about Jason’s laughter as police cuffed him.
He had known something.
Perhaps everything.
“I’ll speak to him.”
Ashley began objecting.
I lifted a hand.
“He used Chloe because she was frightened of losing things. He used me because he assumed I would react emotionally to losing my house.”
“You are reacting emotionally.”
“Yes.”
I looked at her.
“But not predictably.”
An hour later, I sat in a small interview room at police headquarters.
Jason appeared on a monitor from the detention facility.
No tailored shirt.
No expensive watch.
His hair had lost its careful shape.
Yet he looked calmer than he had in my kitchen.
“Margaret.”
“Where is Eleanor?”
No greeting.
No performance.
His mouth curved.
“So you found her.”
“She called us.”
“That was foolish.”
“Where is she?”
“I don’t know.”
“Then this conversation is finished.”
I stood.
“Sit down.”
I remained standing.
Jason leaned toward the camera.
“My father is not what you think.”
“That seems to be a common condition in your family.”
“He called you from the cemetery.”
“Yes.”
“What did he say?”
“You should know.”
“I don’t.”
“You expect me to believe you and Richard are not coordinating?”
“No. I expect you to decide whether believing it keeps your mother alive.”
I sat.
His eyes sharpened.
“What did Richard take from Wallace?”
“Records.”
“Which records?”
“Why?”
“Because my father has spent thirty years looking for Eleanor.”
“To kill her?”
Jason laughed.
“No.”
“Then why?”
“To apologize.”
I stared at him.
“That is the stupidest thing you have said since I came home.”
“You asked.”
“Richard assaulted Wallace.”
“My father panics when he thinks he is losing control.”
“Runs in the family.”
Jason ignored it.
“Richard believed Eleanor had evidence that Franklin ordered Ruth’s death.”
“Did he?”
“Yes.”
“And?”
“He wanted the evidence.”
“To destroy it.”
“To expose Franklin.”
That did not fit.
“Franklin was his grandfather.”
“Exactly.”
Jason leaned back.
“You think families always protect themselves. Sometimes sons spend their entire lives trying to destroy the men who raised them.”
I thought of Thomas.
Maybe that was true.
“Then why did Richard participate in mortgage fraud?”
Jason’s expression shifted.
“You found that.”
“We found many things.”
“The case was manufactured.”
“By whom?”
“My grandfather’s remaining partners.”
“Franklin was still alive?”
“No. His network was.”
“And Samuel Dent?”
Jason looked away.
“What about him?”
“He recanted and died six weeks later.”
“I had nothing to do with Dent.”
“That wasn’t my question.”
Jason’s jaw tightened.
“You’re good at this.”
“I raised Chloe. Compared with adolescence, interrogating criminals is relaxing.”
For the first time, his face showed pain at her name.
I did not soften.
“Did you marry my daughter to gain access to the house?”
He looked directly at me.
“At first?”
My stomach turned.
“Yes.”
I forced myself not to react.
“How long had you watched her?”
“About eighteen months.”
“Since university?”
“No.”
“There is a photograph.”
“My father took that.”
“Why?”
“Richard had been tracing Eleanor’s descendants.”
“So your father identified Chloe.”
“Yes.”
“And sent you.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because Robert Harrison had stopped responding to him.”
I froze.
“Robert knew Richard?”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“Your husband contacted my father.”
“When?”
“Ten years ago.”
A year before Robert’s Boston trip.
“Why?”
“He found Thomas Vance’s papers after your father died.”
“That was years earlier.”
“He didn’t understand them immediately.”
“What changed?”
“Robert found a letter mentioning Ruth.”
My mother’s ally.
“He tracked Richard down?”
“Yes.”
“What did Richard tell him?”
“That Eleanor might still be alive.”
My throat tightened.
“So Robert learned the truth from your father.”
“Partly.”
“And went looking for her.”
“Yes.”
“Then why did Richard send you after Chloe?”
“Because after Robert found Eleanor, he stopped trusting Richard.”
“Why?”
Jason smiled bitterly.
“Because Eleanor told him something my father had hidden.”
“What?”
“That Richard had been present the night Ruth died.”
I sat perfectly still.
“How old was he?”
“Fourteen.”
“Did he kill her?”
“No.”
“You sound certain.”
“I am.”
“Why?”
“Because he watched Franklin do it.”
Silence.
Jason rubbed his face.
“My father spent the rest of his life believing he could dismantle Franklin’s network from inside. He became exactly like them instead.”
“And you?”
He laughed once.
“I thought I could do better.”
“By marrying my daughter under false pretenses.”
“Yes.”
“By installing surveillance in my house.”
“Yes.”
“By forging my signature.”
“Yes.”
“By manufacturing Chloe’s debt.”
His eyes changed.
There.
The one accusation he had not expected me to understand.
“How much do you know?”
“Enough.”
Jason looked toward something outside the camera.
When he returned, the arrogance had diminished.
“The debt was supposed to frighten Chloe into asking you to sell voluntarily.”
“She knew I would refuse.”
“So did I.”
“Then you created a forged power of attorney.”
“Eventually.”
“You stole my house.”
“I transferred it.”
“To Hawthorne.”
“Yes.”
“Controlled by Creed.”
“Yes.”
“Working for whom?”
Jason did not answer.
“Richard?”
“No.”
“Then you.”
“No.”
“Who?”
He leaned closer.
“Martin Creed does not work for my father.”
“Who does he work for?”
“The people Franklin left behind.”
“Names.”
“I don’t know all of them.”
“Give me one.”
Jason smiled without humor.
“You already have the names.”
“The ledger.”
“Yes.”
“Then why search for it if Creed’s people already know who they are?”
“Because the ledger doesn’t only identify the guilty.”
“What else?”
“It proves where the money went.”
Ashley had suspected financial records.
I waited.
Jason continued.
“Franklin and his partners accumulated land worth hundreds of millions today. They used shell companies, trusts, foundations. Some assets passed to children who have no idea where the money originated.”
“And the original ledger connects them.”
“Yes.”
“So Creed needs it destroyed.”
“Yes.”
“And you?”
“I needed it first.”
“Why?”
“To buy my way out.”
There it was.
Not justice.
Not redemption.
Leverage.
“You planned to blackmail them.”
“I planned to survive them.”
“Using Chloe.”
He looked down.
“Yes.”
I wanted to reach through the screen.
Instead, I asked, “Did you ever love her?”
His answer took too long.
“Eventually.”
I almost laughed.
“Eventually is a cruel word.”
“I know.”
“Does Chloe?”
“No.”
“She will.”
His face tightened.
“That’s why I asked for you.”
“Not Eleanor?”
“No.”
“Then why?”
“Because Creed knows she is alive.”
My hands went cold.
“How?”
“I told him.”
“When?”
“Yesterday.”
“Why?”
“I thought she had the ledger.”
“You traded my mother’s location.”
“I didn’t have her location.”
“You told dangerous people she existed.”
“Yes.”
“For what?”
“Time.”
I stood.
“You are finished.”
“Margaret.”
I reached for the door.
“Ask Vega who ordered the officers away from Saint Agnes.”
I stopped.
“What?”
“Someone redirected the nearest patrol unit fifteen minutes before Eleanor called Chloe.”
I turned back.
“How would you know?”
“Because Creed told me the church would be clear.”
My skin prickled.
“When?”
“Before I was arrested.”
“Why would he tell you?”
“He expected me to retrieve Eleanor.”
“Did you?”
“No.”
“Who did?”
“I don’t know.”
I stared at him.
“Give me Creed’s number.”
“You already have it in the Hawthorne filings.”
“Private number.”
He recited it.
I memorized it.
Then Jason said, “Margaret.”
“What?”
“If Creed has Eleanor, he will not hurt her until he knows where the ledger is.”
“How comforting.”
“But if Richard finds them first—”
“You told me Richard wants to expose Franklin.”
“He does.”
“Then why fear him?”
Jason’s expression became grim.
“Because my father has one weakness stronger than guilt.”
“What?”
“Me.”
I frowned.
“He will destroy anyone who can prove what I have done.”
“Even Eleanor?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because he still thinks I can be saved.”
I left without answering.
Ashley waited outside with Vega.
One look at my face and she stood.
“What happened?”
I looked at Vega.
“Who redirected the patrol unit assigned near Saint Agnes?”
She went still.
“What patrol unit?”
“Exactly.”
Within minutes, she was on a secure terminal.
The record existed.
A patrol car had been diverted from the church road to a reported domestic disturbance seven miles away.
The disturbance never happened.
The instruction had entered the system using valid supervisory credentials.
“Whose?” Ashley asked.
Vega stared at the screen.
“Captain Daniel Reddick.”
The surname struck me.
“Reddick.”
Ashley remembered too.
“Charles Reddick was the banker who approached Thomas with Franklin Sterling.”
Vega looked between us.
“Daniel is Charles Reddick’s grandson.”
There it was.
The ledger had not merely documented dead men.
Their descendants still occupied positions of trust.
And one of them had just cleared the road around the church where my mother disappeared.
Click here to continue reading: PART 11: A Police Captain’s Family Appeared in Eleanor’s Ledger, and Chloe Found the Account Jason Never Expected Her to Open
I Came Home From Hawaii to Find My Daughter Wearing My Pearls Beside a Door My Key Could No Longer Open
Part 10 of 24
