Evelyn Marks arrived for her second interview with two attorneys.
That alone told me the first interview had not contained anything close to the whole truth.
Detective Bell would not allow me into the room, but Rebecca remained in contact with the investigators. I sat across the hall with Beth, watching people pass through a government building where every closed door seemed to contain another piece of my marriage.
At 10:17 that morning, Bell stepped into the hallway.
“The blood from the Expedition has a preliminary identification.”
I stood.
“Travis?”
“No.”
Relief came before I could stop it. I hated myself for feeling it.
“Carol?”
“No.”
“Then who?”
“Derek Collins.”
Melissa’s business partner.
The man who had discovered Daddy’s box among Gulf Horizon’s stored records.
I stared at Bell.
“Is Derek alive?”
“We’re trying to locate him.”
“Melissa said he went to the office.”
“Yes.”
“When did anyone last speak to him?”
“Yesterday afternoon.”
“Before the motel?”
“Before we found the vehicle.”
Beth stood beside me. “How much blood?”
Bell’s expression remained controlled.
“Enough to concern us. Not enough by itself to establish what happened.”
“Was Derek in Carol’s SUV willingly?”
“We don’t know.”
“Did Travis know Derek found the cloud archive?”
“Almost certainly.”
The answer chilled me.
Derek had found the backup Travis forgot to erase.
He had also found Daddy’s documents in Gulf Horizon’s storage.
If Travis was eliminating evidence, Derek stood directly in his path.
“Where’s Melissa?”
“Safe.”
That was all Bell would say.
He returned to Evelyn’s interview.
The next two hours dragged.
At noon, Rebecca joined us carrying a legal pad covered with handwriting.
“Evelyn is cooperating.”
“About my forged signature?”
“That and much more.”
I sat.
Rebecca lowered her voice.
“Evelyn knew Warren Pike.”
“We know.”
“She worked at his bank.”
That surprised me.
“When?”
“Twenty-two years ago. She was a junior documentation clerk.”
Before Daddy died.
Before Travis and I met.
Before almost everything.
“Warren trained her.”
“In fraud?”
“In loan documentation.”
The distinction mattered.
Rebecca continued. “According to Evelyn, Warren developed a habit of maintaining two sets of records for troubled loans.”
“Two ledgers.”
“Yes.”
“One official.”
“One private.”
I thought of Harold saying Reserve A contained more than money.
“What was in the private one?”
“Transactions that did not fit the bank’s official accounting.”
“Illegal transactions.”
“Some may have been. Others may have represented legitimate payments Warren wanted documented separately.”
“Why?”
“Leverage.”
The word again.
Warren did not trust memory.
He trusted evidence that could hurt people.
“Where are the two ledgers?”
“One is the ledger recovered from Carol’s unit.”
“And the other?”
“Evelyn says Warren called it the red book.”
My pulse quickened.
“Have police found it?”
“No.”
“Was it in folder seven?”
“She doesn’t think so.”
“Then where?”
“Warren kept changing the location.”
I leaned back.
Another hidden record.
Another object everyone had known about except me.
“Why is Evelyn in Warren’s ledger?”
“She sometimes prepared documents after hours.”
“For him?”
“Yes.”
“Knowing they were false?”
Rebecca hesitated.
“Eventually.”
That word carried years inside it.
“At first?”
“She says Warren told her they were corrections for incomplete files. Later, she realized some signatures were being backdated or witnessed improperly.”
“And she continued.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Money. Fear. Loyalty. Pick whichever explanation you find most convincing.”
None improved what she had done.
“Did she prepare Daddy’s trust paperwork?”
“Some of it.”
I felt my hands go cold.
“The Elaine Parker form?”
“No. She says she saw it afterward.”
“Who created it?”
“Warren.”
“And Carol?”
“Provided information.”
“My mother’s information.”
“Yes.”
I pictured Mom’s name on that document.
Her Social Security number.
Her death turned into an administrative convenience.
“What about Travis?”
“Evelyn says he was involved earlier than Carol has admitted.”
“How early?”
“Before Raymond entered hospice.”
My chest tightened.
Again, the scheme moved backward.
“How long before?”
“Approximately three months.”
“What did Travis do?”
“He met Warren privately.”
“About Daddy?”
“Yes.”
“What did he want?”
“Information about Raymond’s accounts.”
The room became quiet.
“He was already planning it.”
“That is what investigators are examining.”
“No. He didn’t stumble into something Carol and Warren were doing. He went looking.”
Rebecca did not contradict me.
“What did Warren tell him?”
“That Raymond’s trust was protected and Travis had no authority over it.”
I laughed without humor.
“So Travis knew.”
“Yes.”
“He knew before Daddy died that the money wasn’t his.”
“Yes.”
“And he still took it.”
“Evidence suggests he received funds afterward.”
That careful lawyer language again.
I had begun to appreciate it.
Facts first.
Judgment after.
“Why would Warren help him after telling him no?”
“Evelyn says Travis discovered Reserve A.”
I leaned forward.
“How?”
“Through Harold.”
Of course.
“Travis realized Warren had been maintaining money outside the official settlement records. He threatened to expose him.”
Everything shifted.
Travis had not simply asked Warren for help.
He had obtained leverage.
“So Travis blackmailed Warren.”
“That is Evelyn’s account.”
“And Warren responded by helping him steal Daddy’s trust.”
“Partly.”
“What does partly mean?”
“Warren apparently proposed something different.”
I waited.
“He offered Travis money from Reserve A if Travis left Raymond’s trust alone.”
My stomach tightened.
“How much?”
“Fifty thousand.”
“And Travis?”
“Refused.”
Of course he had.
Daddy’s trust held more.
The land was worth more.
And Travis’s appetite had never been about enough.
“What happened next?”
“According to Evelyn, Warren began keeping additional records specifically about Travis.”
“The red book.”
“Yes.”
“Insurance.”
“Exactly.”
Warren had recognized what he had helped create.
Maybe too late.
“What did Carol know?”
“Evelyn says Carol knew about the negotiations but not every detail.”
“Did she help?”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“She provided copies of old Parker family documents.”
“Where did she get them?”
“From Travis.”
The chain tightened.
Travis had access to Daddy’s house.
He collected documents.
Carol supplied identity information.
Warren manipulated accounts.
Evelyn completed paperwork.
Nobody needed to do everything.
Each person only needed to cross one line.
Then another.
“Did Evelyn forge Daddy’s signature?”
“She denies it.”
“Does she know who did?”
Rebecca looked at me.
“She believes Travis did.”
I said nothing.
Not because I was shocked.
Because somewhere inside me I had already known.
Daddy had trusted him enough to let him into the house.
I had trusted him enough to leave him alone with Daddy.
Travis had watched my father’s hand weaken.
Then possibly imitated it.
“What about my signature?”
“Evelyn admits she knowingly notarized it without you present.”
“Did she know Travis forged it?”
“She says she suspected.”
“Suspected.”
“Yes.”
“And did it anyway.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Travis showed her copies of Warren’s old records.”
I frowned.
“What does that have to do with anything?”
“He was blackmailing her too.”
The system was eating its own participants.
Warren kept evidence on everyone.
Travis acquired some of it.
Then used Warren’s leverage as his own.
“Folder seven.”
“Possibly.”
“What did Travis have on Evelyn?”
“Documentation showing she had participated in improper loan files years earlier.”
“So when he needed a notary, he didn’t find one.”
“No.”
“He selected one he could control.”
“Yes.”
That was the pattern.
Not opportunity.
Preparation.
Every person around Travis was either useful, compromised, uninformed, or some combination of the three.
Bell appeared again.
His phone was in his hand.
“We found Derek.”
I stood so quickly my chair scraped backward.
“Alive?”
“Yes.”
Relief swept through the hallway.
“Where?”
“Emergency room in Houston.”
“What happened?”
“He drove himself there early this morning.”
“With that much blood loss?”
“He had a laceration along his shoulder and upper arm.”
“From what?”
“He says broken glass.”
“Carol’s SUV?”
“Yes.”
“How did he get to Houston?”
“Bus, then taxi.”
“Why didn’t he call police?”
Bell’s mouth tightened.
“He was scared.”
“Of Travis?”
“Yes.”
“Did Travis attack him?”
“Derek says they struggled.”
The relief vanished.
“Where?”
“At Gulf Horizon’s office.”
“When?”
“After Derek returned for his laptop.”
That matched Melissa’s account.
“Travis was there?”
“Yes.”
Bell explained what Derek had reported.
He arrived expecting an empty office.
Instead, he found Travis loading boxes into Carol’s Expedition.
Derek confronted him.
Travis demanded access to the cloud archive.
Derek refused.
The argument became physical.
Travis shoved him against a glass partition.
The glass broke.
Derek’s shoulder was cut badly.
“He thought Travis was going to kill him?”
Bell shook his head.
“Derek did not say that.”
“What did he say?”
“He said Travis looked terrified.”
That surprised me.
“Terrified of Derek?”
“No.”
“Then what?”
“Something Derek had found.”
My pulse accelerated.
“The cloud files?”
Bell nodded.
“Derek opened the contingency file before police secured the archive.”
Melissa had refused to tell me what was inside.
“What did it contain?”
“A spreadsheet.”
“Of what?”
“Payments.”
Again.
Always payments.
“Gulf Horizon?”
“Yes, but not normal business expenses.”
“To whom?”
“Several individuals.”
“Investors?”
“No.”
Bell looked at Rebecca.
“One payment recipient was Warren Pike.”
“Warren died six years ago.”
“The payment was made before his death.”
“How much?”
“Twenty-five thousand.”
“For what?”
“Description says consultation.”
I almost laughed.
“Blackmail.”
“Possibly.”
“Who else?”
“Evelyn Marks.”
I closed my eyes.
“Carol?”
“Yes.”
“Travis?”
“He controlled the company.”
“Anyone new?”
Bell hesitated.
“One.”
“Who?”
“Harold Hale.”
My eyes opened.
“No.”
“The records show payments to an entity connected to Harold.”
“How much?”
“Sixty thousand over four years.”
I stared toward the conference-room wall.
Harold had presented himself as the estranged father trying too late to correct his mistakes.
He had admitted speaking with Travis.
Admitted giving him information.
But not receiving money.
“What does Harold say?”
“We haven’t asked him yet.”
Bell’s phone vibrated.
He looked down.
His expression changed.
“What?”
He showed Rebecca, not me.
She read.
Then looked at me.
“The Expedition has been processed further.”
“And?”
“The blood is Derek’s.”
Relief.
At least that mystery was resolved.
“But investigators found another item beneath the rear cargo mat.”
Bell took over.
“A key.”
“To what?”
“Safe-deposit box.”
“Whose?”
“We don’t know yet.”
A numbered tag hung from it.
Bell said investigators had traced the bank.
It was a small institution outside Baton Rouge.
The box was registered under a company name.
Blue Heron Holdings.
The company controlling Reserve A.
My heart hammered.
“Can you open it?”
“With proper legal process.”
“How long?”
“We’re working on it.”
I looked at Rebecca.
The red book.
Warren’s second ledger.
Maybe the green box.
Maybe folder seven.
Every path seemed to be converging on Blue Heron.
Bell’s phone rang again.
This time he answered.
His expression hardened while he listened.
“When?”
A pause.
“Secure the property. Nobody enters.”
He ended the call.
“What happened?” I asked.
Bell looked at me.
“Harold Hale is gone.”
“What do you mean gone?”
“Officers went to his house.”
“And?”
“Front door open. Vehicle missing.”
“Signs of violence?”
“Not immediately.”
“Did he run?”
“We don’t know.”
My stomach tightened.
“After you found payments to him.”
“Yes.”
The timing was impossible to ignore.
Then Rebecca’s phone buzzed.
An email.
She opened it.
Her face changed.
“What?”
“It’s from Harold.”
“When?”
“Scheduled delivery. Arrived two minutes ago.”
She read silently.
Then handed me the phone.
The message was short.
If anything happens to me, stop looking at Travis first.
Find the red book.
Carol knows why Warren kept it.
And ask June what Raymond hid beneath the floor where the old company began.
I read the final sentence twice.
“The old company began?”
Rebecca frowned.
“Do you know what that means?”
I did.
Daddy and Harold had not started their business in an office.
They had started it in Daddy’s workshop.
I looked at Bell.
“The floor.”
“What about it?”
“There’s a section beneath the workbench Daddy replaced when I was a teenager.”
Bell was already reaching for his phone.
If Harold was telling the truth, the workshop intruder might have taken the green box and still missed what was underneath it.
Click here to continue reading: PART 14: Beneath Daddy’s Workshop Floor We Found Warren’s Missing Red Book and Proof That Carol Had Lied About the First Theft
The Bank Account Was Empty, but the Courthouse Across the Street Held Something My Husband Had Forgotten
Part 13 of 35
