Dad said yes.
I hated him for it for almost three seconds.
Then I understood why.
If he refused, Eric might disappear again.
If he agreed, maybe investigators could finally reach him.
Dad ended the call.
Mom immediately said, “You’re not going.”
“I am.”
“No.”
He turned toward her.
“I am.”
“You heard him. He said alone.”
“I heard him.”
“You don’t know what he’ll do.”
Dad looked at me.
“Call Morales.”
I already was.
The detective answered.
I told him everything.
His response was immediate.
“Do not leave yet.”
Dad heard.
“I told Eric I would.”
“You can still go.”
Dad looked surprised.
“So you want me to meet him?”
“I want to control the risk.”
Morales asked for the exact wording.
Dad repeated the call.
When he finished, Morales said, “Eric may be testing whether police are involved.”
“How?”
“Location changes. Instructions. Asking you to turn off your phone.”
Dad looked at the device in his hand.
“What should I do?”
“Follow our instructions first.”
Within thirty minutes, two plainclothes officers arrived.
Mom stared at them like their presence made the family’s collapse official.
One officer fitted Dad with a small audio transmitter.
Dad looked down at it.
“This is legal?”
The officer nodded.
“You are consenting.”
“What if Eric searches me?”
“We don’t expect him to.”
“That’s comforting.”
Nobody laughed.
Morales arrived himself.
He took Dad aside, then included me when Dad asked.
“If Eric tells you to go somewhere isolated, do not get out of the car unless we approve.”
Dad nodded.
“If he becomes threatening, leave.”
“What if he tries to run?”
“You do not stop him.”
“What if he confesses?”
“Let him talk.”
Dad looked at me.
I knew what he was thinking.
Samuel.
Morales saw it too.
“Do not accuse him of murder.”
Dad’s jaw tightened.
“Why?”
“Because we do not know that a murder occurred.”
“He took a wrench.”
“We know he may have taken a wrench.”
“He was at the rail.”
“We have one witness saying he saw him nearby.”
“He lied about being there.”
“Yes.”
Morales’s voice hardened.
“None of that gives you permission to decide the case.”
Dad looked away.
I said quietly, “Listen to him.”
Dad nodded.
At 3:14, Eric called again.
Everyone went silent.
Dad answered normally.
“I’m ready.”
“Leave now.”
“Where?”
“Drive north.”
Dad looked at Morales.
The detective nodded.
“How far?”
“I’ll tell you.”
Eric hung up.
Dad drove his truck.
Police followed at a distance.
I stayed with Morales in an unmarked car two vehicles behind.
Mom remained at the house with an officer.
I did not like leaving her alone, even with protection.
But she insisted.
For twenty minutes, Dad drove north.
Then Eric called.
“Take Route 23.”
Dad followed.
Another ten minutes.
“Exit at Powell Road.”
Morales looked at a tablet displaying Dad’s location.
“Keep going.”
Eric called again.
“Turn off your phone.”
Dad said, “Then how do you call me?”
“Use the burner under your seat.”
I felt cold.
Dad glanced downward.
Morales’s eyes sharpened.
There was a phone under Dad’s driver’s seat.
Eric had planted it.
“When?” I whispered.
Morales did not answer.
Dad pulled into a gas station under instruction from police.
An officer discreetly retrieved the device.
Prepaid.
Already powered on.
One saved number.
Eric.
“He had access to Dad’s truck,” I said.
“When?”
“Family dinners. House. Anytime.”
Morales nodded.
“This was planned.”
The burner rang.
Dad answered.
Eric said, “Good. Leave your phone in the truck.”
Dad did.
Police had already attached their own tracking device and transmitter.
He moved the burner into his coat.
“Drive to the old farm.”
Dad’s expression changed.
“What farm?”
“You know.”
He did.
So did I.
Grandpa Whitman’s old property.
Thirty acres outside Delaware.
Sold twelve years ago.
Mostly abandoned since the current owner left after a foreclosure dispute.
Why would Eric choose it?
Then I remembered.
We used to go there as children.
Eric knew every barn, trail, and access road.
He knew Dad did too.
The place was isolated.
Morales said quietly, “We move closer.”
Dad drove.
The property appeared twenty minutes later.
Gray barn.
Collapsed fence.
Tall winter grass.
No other cars visible.
Eric’s burner rang.
“Pull behind the barn.”
Dad hesitated.
Morales spoke through the transmitter.
“Do not.”
Dad said into the phone, “Road’s muddy.”
“It’s fine.”
“I’m not getting stuck.”
A pause.
Then Eric said, “Park by the gate.”
Dad did.
“Get out.”
Morales looked at another officer.
They exchanged signals.
Dad got out.
Wind moved through dead grass.
For almost a minute, nothing happened.
Then Eric stepped from behind the barn.
Even from our distance, I recognized him.
No coat hood.
Baseball cap.
Duffel bag.
He looked thinner.
Tired.
But not broken.
Dad stood near the truck.
Eric approached.
Police remained hidden.
“Did you bring anyone?”
“No.”
“You swear?”
Dad stared at him.
“You asked me to come. I came.”
Eric looked toward the road.
Then back.
“You always were terrible at lying.”
My pulse spiked.
Morales stayed still.
Dad said, “What do you want?”
Eric stopped ten feet away.
“Money.”
“No.”
“You didn’t even ask how much.”
“I’m not giving you money.”
Eric laughed quietly.
“Rachel got to you.”
“No.”
“Police?”
“No.”
“You sound like her.”
Dad’s shoulders stiffened.
“For once, maybe that’s not an insult.”
Eric’s face hardened.
“Ten thousand.”
“No.”
“Five.”
“No.”
“I need to leave.”
“Then turn yourself in.”
Eric laughed.
“You really think they’ll treat me fairly?”
Dad did not answer.
Eric continued.
“They want someone to blame for everything.”
“They have records.”
“They have pieces.”
“You forged Rachel’s signature.”
“Yes.”
The admission came without hesitation.
I felt Morales glance at the recording equipment.
“You stole from my company.”
Eric looked away.
“You took Samuel’s settlement.”
“That wasn’t supposed to stay missing.”
Dad laughed bitterly.
“What does that even mean?”
“I was going to replace it.”
“With what?”
“A deal.”
“What deal?”
“It fell through.”
“Everything falls through with you.”
Eric’s jaw tightened.
Dad stepped closer.
“What happened at Jackson Street?”
Eric’s eyes changed.
“There it is.”
“You said you’d tell me.”
“I said I’d tell you what happened.”
“Then tell me.”
Eric looked toward the barn.
For a moment I thought he might run.
Instead he said, “Samuel found the case.”
“We know.”
“You know everything now.”
“No.”
Dad’s voice broke.
“I don’t know how he died.”
Eric looked at him.
“You think I pushed him.”
Dad did not answer.
Eric laughed without humor.
“You do.”
“Did you?”
“No.”
The word came cleanly.
“Did you loosen the rail?”
Eric’s face changed.
Morales whispered, “Careful.”
Dad ignored him.
“Did you?”
“No.”
“Did you take my wrench?”
“Yes.”
My heartbeat jumped.
“Why?”
“The case lock jammed.”
Dad frowned.
“What?”
“The laser case.”
“You used the wrench on the case?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“I had documents inside.”
“Documents you were hiding.”
“Yes.”
“Samuel found them.”
“Yes.”
“What did he say?”
Eric looked away.
“He said he was telling you.”
“Why didn’t he?”
“He tried.”
Dad flinched.
Eric continued.
“You were busy.”
“Don’t.”
“He called you.”
“I know.”
“You brushed him off.”
Dad’s face twisted.
“I know.”
For the first time, Eric looked almost satisfied.
He had found the wound.
Then Dad steadied himself.
“What happened after you argued?”
“I told him the invoices were temporary.”
“Temporary fraud?”
Eric ignored that.
“He said he copied some pages.”
My skin prickled.
“What pages?”
“Transfers.”
“Where are they?”
“I don’t know.”
“You took the case back.”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“He left it in storage.”
“Why?”
“He wanted to talk to you first.”
“Then why did you go near the floor opening?”
Eric stared at him.
“What?”
“Darnell saw you.”
Something changed in Eric’s expression.
Real surprise.
“Who?”
“Darnell Price.”
Eric looked toward the field.
“What did he say?”
“That he saw you crouching near the rail.”
Eric laughed suddenly.
Not nervously.
Almost relieved.
“That’s what this is?”
Dad stepped closer.
“What were you doing?”
“Picking up my phone.”
“What?”
“I dropped it.”
“Near the rail?”
“Yes.”
“Did you touch the rail?”
“No.”
“Then why was the wrench gone?”
“I told you. The case.”
Dad’s face showed doubt.
Eric’s voice sharpened.
“You want me to say I killed Samuel because that makes your guilt easier.”
Dad went still.
“You want one villain.”
Eric pointed toward him.
“But that rail had been wrong for days.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“Workers saw it secure that morning.”
“Workers lie when OSHA shows up.”
Dad shook his head.
Eric continued.
“Samuel complained about that opening two days earlier.”
Dad froze.
“What?”
“He told the site foreman.”
“Who?”
“Rick Palmer.”
Dad stared.
“Rick said nobody complained.”
“Then Rick lied.”
Morales immediately signaled an officer to note the name.
Dad asked, “Why would he lie?”
“Because Rick removed the rail.”
Everything inside me stopped.
Dad stared.
“What?”
Eric said it again.
“Rick removed it.”
“Why?”
“To move ductwork.”
“When?”
“That morning.”
“How do you know?”
“I saw him.”
Dad looked stunned.
“Did he put it back?”
“Yes.”
“Properly?”
“No.”
Dad’s breathing changed.
“Why didn’t you say this four years ago?”
Eric laughed bitterly.
“Because Samuel had just accused me of stealing from you.”
The answer landed.
“If I told investigators I’d been standing near the rail, they would ask why I was there.”
“So you let them blame the company generally.”
“You were already being cited.”
Dad stared at him.
“You knew Rick put it back wrong.”
“I knew he rushed.”
“And you said nothing.”
“I didn’t think Samuel was going to lean on it.”
Dad shouted, “He fell through it!”
Eric stepped back.
“I know.”
“Did you see him fall?”
“No.”
“Where were you?”
“Downstairs.”
“Prove it.”
“I can’t.”
Dad’s hands shook.
For the first time, Eric’s story offered an alternative explanation that fit some evidence.
Maybe he did not loosen the rail.
Maybe Rick Palmer did.
Maybe negligence, lies, and Eric’s separate fraud collided on the same morning.
Reality did not owe us a clean villain.
Dad said, “Why did you message Melissa that you were fixing the problem?”
Eric exhaled.
“Samuel.”
“How?”
“I was moving the records.”
“Tom had his chance?”
“You.”
Dad stared.
“I meant you had your chance to handle Samuel because he tried to call you.”
“That sounds terrible.”
“I know.”
“What about Melissa saying not to do anything stupid?”
“She thought I was going to threaten him.”
“Were you?”
“No.”
Dad looked at him.
Eric’s face tightened.
“I wanted to scare him.”
There it was.
“How?”
“I told him if he accused me, I’d say he stole company information.”
Dad closed his eyes.
“You threatened a man who found you stealing.”
“Yes.”
“And hours later he died.”
“Yes.”
“But you didn’t touch the rail.”
“No.”
Dad stared at him.
I did too, from the car.
I did not know whether to believe him.
Morales did not move.
Then Eric said something none of us expected.
“Rick knows.”
Dad frowned.
“Knows what?”
“That he installed it wrong.”
“How?”
“Because he called me after Samuel fell.”
“What did he say?”
Eric swallowed.
“He said, ‘Don’t tell Tom.’”
Morales immediately whispered instructions to another team.
Dad asked, “Why would he call you?”
“Because I saw him.”
The pieces shifted.
Rick knew Eric had witnessed the rushed reinstallation.
Eric knew Rick had created the hazard.
Neither told investigators.
For different reasons.
Both hid truth.
Samuel’s death may have been preventable in several different ways.
Dad said, “Where is Rick now?”
“I don’t know.”
Morales did.
Or at least his team would soon.
Dad lowered his voice.
“Why are you really here?”
Eric looked at the duffel bag.
“I need money.”
“You said that.”
“I need to get to Canada.”
“You’re not going anywhere.”
Eric’s eyes narrowed.
“You brought them.”
Dad said nothing.
Eric looked toward the road.
Then toward the trees.
His posture changed.
Morales spoke quietly into his radio.
“Move.”
Police emerged from two directions.
Eric ran.
Not toward Dad.
Toward the barn.
Officers shouted.
He dropped the duffel.
Dad stood frozen.
Eric made it twenty yards.
Then slipped in mud.
An officer reached him first.
Eric struggled.
Not long.
Not dramatically.
Enough.
Within seconds, he was on the ground with his hands behind his back.
Dad did not move.
I got out only when Morales told me it was safe.
Eric saw me.
His face twisted.
“Of course.”
I stopped several yards away.
“You did this.”
I shook my head.
“No.”
“You couldn’t leave it alone.”
“No.”
His breathing was hard.
“You started looking.”
“Yes.”
“That’s what I mean.”
I looked at my brother on the ground.
At the man who still believed discovery was the betrayal.
“No, Eric.”
His eyes met mine.
“You started this years before I knew there was anything to find.”
Click here to continue reading: PART 19: Eric’s Arrest Brought One Answer About Samuel, but the Evidence Against Rick Palmer Forced Dad to Confront a Different Kind of Guilt
The Joke at My Parents’ Dinner Table Was Cruel Enough, but Everyone’s Reaction Told Me Something Worse
Part 18 of 35
