Bennett called the nursing home before we left the farmhouse.
No answer.
It was after regular office hours, but someone should have answered the main line.
He tried again.
Nothing.
“That could mean anything,” he said.
“It means we go.”
Emily sat on the bed with her coat already on.
“I’m coming.”
“No.”
She stared at me.
“You said we weren’t splitting up.”
I had said that.
And now every choice seemed designed to punish whichever promise I made.
Bennett stepped in.
“We could call the police.”
“And tell them what?”
“That we believe a witness in an old guardianship case may be in danger.”
“Based on a missing envelope?”
“And threatening messages.”
“To me, not her.”
He frowned.
I was already gathering the tapes.
“We go.”
The nursing home was nearly an hour away.
I kept Emily beside me in the car.
Bennett followed.
Snow thickened.
The roads grew slick.
Halfway there, my phone rang.
Unknown number.
I let it ring.
Then a voicemail notification appeared.
At the next red light, I played it on speaker.
Thomas.
“Anna, Claire has told you enough to make you afraid and not enough to keep you alive. If you found Evelyn’s name, do not go to her. Call me.”
The message ended.
Emily looked at me.
“Is that the man from the house?”
“Yes.”
“Do you trust him?”
“No.”
“Do you trust the lady?”
“Claire?”
Emily nodded.
“No.”
“Do you trust the lawyer?”
I checked the mirror.
Bennett’s headlights stayed behind us.
“Not completely.”
Emily frowned.
“Then who are we trusting?”
I thought about Richard.
His letters.
His keys.
His hidden house.
His recordings.
“A dead man.”
Emily considered this.
“That seems bad.”
“It isn’t ideal.”
The nursing home appeared beside a small church at the edge of town.
Only one entrance light was on.
I parked near the front.
Bennett hurried toward us.
“Stay in the car until I check inside.”
“No.”
“Anna.”
“We are done separating.”
He sighed.
We entered together.
The lobby was empty.
A television played softly behind the reception desk.
“Hello?”
No answer.
I rang the bell.
A woman emerged from a side corridor carrying a stack of towels.
“Can I help you?”
“We’re looking for Evelyn Hart.”
The woman’s expression changed.
“Family?”
“No.”
“Then I can’t give you information.”
Bennett handed over his card.
“I’m an attorney representing the estate of Richard Whitmore.”
Recognition appeared instantly.
“Mr. Whitmore?”
“You knew him?”
“He visited Evelyn.”
My heart quickened.
“How often?”
“Every few months.”
“When was the last time?”
She thought.
“Maybe six weeks ago.”
“Is Evelyn here?”
The woman hesitated.
“Was there an emergency?”
“We’re concerned about her safety.”
She set down the towels.
“Ms. Hart went to the hospital this afternoon.”
My stomach dropped.
“What happened?”
“She fell.”
“When?”
“About three.”
“Did anyone see it?”
“I don’t know.”
“What hospital?”
The woman finally gave us the name.
Twenty minutes later, we were in another fluorescent hallway.
Hospitals still smelled the same to me.
Disinfectant.
Coffee.
Fear.
My first husband existed in those smells.
For a moment I was thirty again, carrying insurance forms and pretending I believed treatment would work.
Emily slipped her hand into mine.
I returned to the present.
Evelyn was awake.
A nurse initially refused to allow us in, but Bennett somehow convinced the supervising physician to ask whether Evelyn recognized Richard’s name.
She did.
We entered.
Evelyn Hart looked impossibly small beneath white blankets.
Her silver hair had been cut short. A bruise darkened one temple.
Her eyes, however, were sharp.
She looked directly at me.
“You’re Margaret’s girl.”
I stopped beside the bed.
“You know me?”
“I know your face.”
Her voice was thin but steady.
“You have Daniel’s chin.”
Something inside me tightened.
“Richard found you.”
“Yes.”
“Did he tell you he found me?”
“Eventually.”
“Why didn’t you contact me?”
Evelyn gave a tired smile.
“Richard told me you had a life. A husband. A child. He said dragging old ghosts to your door might do more harm than good.”
I looked at Bennett.
He lowered his eyes.
Everyone had decided what I needed.
Again.
“I need to ask you about Daniel’s guardianship petition.”
Evelyn’s fingers tightened on the sheet.
“I wondered when someone would.”
“Richard wrote that you saw who removed it.”
“Yes.”
“Who?”
She looked toward Emily.
I understood.
“Emily, would you sit with Mr. Bennett outside?”
Emily frowned.
“I can stay.”
“Please.”
She reluctantly followed him into the hallway.
I closed the door.
Evelyn studied me.
“You should have been with Daniel.”
“I know.”
“He loved you.”
The words hit hard.
“You knew him?”
“I worked in county records.”
“You handled my file?”
“Parts of it.”
“What happened?”
She stared toward the window.
“Your mother was already very sick when Daniel filed. Everything was rushed. Emergency petition. Medical affidavits. Statements about your father.”
“Walter.”
Her eyes returned to mine.
“You know his name.”
“Yes.”
“He was trouble.”
“So everyone keeps telling me.”
“He came to the office twice.”
“Did you speak with him?”
“Once.”
“What did he want?”
“To know whether Daniel had filed.”
“Did you tell him?”
“No.”
“Claire did.”
Evelyn’s mouth tightened.
“She always talked too much.”
“Richard thought you saw someone remove the petition.”
“I did.”
“Walter?”
“No.”
“Claire?”
“No.”
“Thomas?”
“No.”
I leaned closer.
“Who?”
She stared at me as though deciding whether I could survive the answer.
Then she said, “Richard.”
For several seconds, I could not process the word.
“What?”
“Richard Whitmore.”
“That’s impossible.”
“I saw him take the file.”
“No.”
Evelyn’s expression did not change.
“He came after closing. He knew the supervisor. Said Daniel had sent him.”
“Daniel had asked Richard to help.”
“Yes.”
“Then maybe he was taking it somewhere safe.”
“That is what he told me.”
“Did he bring it back?”
“No.”
I stood.
The chair scraped behind me.
“Richard spent decades investigating the disappearance of that petition.”
“Yes.”
“He told everyone Walter caused it.”
“I didn’t say Richard destroyed it.”
“But he removed it.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“I asked him that when he found me years later.”
“What did he say?”
Evelyn closed her eyes.
“He said taking it was the worst decision of his life.”
I felt sick.
“Why did he do it?”
“He wouldn’t tell me.”
“You expect me to believe Richard stole the documents meant to give Daniel custody of me, then spent years trying to find me afterward?”
“Yes.”
“That makes no sense.”
“Many terrible decisions make sense only to the person making them.”
I paced once across the room.
“Did Walter pay him?”
“I don’t know.”
“Threaten him?”
“I don’t know.”
“Did Claire know?”
“I don’t know.”
“Thomas?”
“I don’t know.”
Frustration sharpened my voice.
“What do you know?”
Evelyn did not flinch.
“I know Richard came into the office shortly after seven. I know he removed Daniel’s petition. I know your file was transferred the next morning before the scheduled hearing. And I know Richard spent the rest of his life trying to undo something he refused to explain.”
My breathing became shallow.
All this time, Richard had positioned himself as the protector.
What if he had also been the reason I needed protecting?
“Why didn’t you report him?”
“I did.”
I stopped.
“To whom?”
“My supervisor.”
“What happened?”
“She told me Richard had authorization from Daniel.”
“Did he?”
“I never saw proof.”
“Police?”
“I was twenty-four. A clerk. Richard Whitmore was already powerful.”
“So you stayed quiet.”
“For many years.”
I closed my eyes.
Everyone had a reason.
Everyone had an excuse.
The child paid the price.
“When Richard contacted you again, why agree to help him?”
“Because he brought proof that Walter had been manipulating your case after the petition disappeared.”
“What proof?”
“Payments.”
“The check in his folder?”
“Among other things.”
“Whose account?”
Evelyn looked suddenly uneasy.
“What check?”
I explained.
Her face drained.
“Richard had that?”
“Yes.”
“You brought it?”
“No.”
“Good.”
“Why?”
She looked toward the door.
“Because that check is why I fell.”
Cold moved through me.
“What?”
“A man came this morning.”
“Who?”
“I didn’t recognize him.”
“What did he want?”
“Asked about Richard. Asked whether he ever gave me copies of old county records.”
“Did you answer?”
“I said no.”
“What happened?”
“He left.”
“And then you fell?”
Evelyn’s jaw tightened.
“I was on the stairs outside the garden entrance.”
“You think he pushed you?”
“I know he did.”
My stomach turned.
“Did you tell the hospital?”
“I said I slipped.”
“Why?”
“Because if he learns I survived and talked, he may come back.”
I moved to the door.
“Then we need security.”
“Wait.”
She reached for my wrist.
Her grip was surprisingly strong.
“Richard told me that if you ever came to me, I was to give you something.”
From beneath her pillow she pulled a small envelope.
My name was written in Richard’s hand.
I almost laughed from exhaustion.
Another message.
Another layer.
I opened it.
Inside was a photocopy of the same check from the blue folder.
This copy was clearer.
The payer name was visible.
I read it.
Then read it again.
Mercer Automotive Holdings.
Thomas Mercer.
My pulse accelerated.
“Thomas paid someone in county records.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know.”
“Richard knew?”
“He learned later.”
“Then Thomas was involved.”
Evelyn nodded slowly.
“At least financially.”
I thought of Thomas standing on my porch insisting the records should be destroyed.
Then Claire’s accusation that he helped Walter disappear.
“What about Richard?”
“There is something else.”
Evelyn pointed to the bottom of the copy.
A handwritten authorization code appeared beneath the amount.
“That number belonged to a private business account.”
“Thomas’s?”
“No.”
“How do you know?”
“I saw financial records years later when Richard asked me to help reconstruct what happened.”
“Whose account?”
Evelyn hesitated.
“Daniel’s.”
My breath stopped.
“No.”
“Thomas wrote the check. The funds came from an account controlled by Daniel’s company.”
“That means my uncle paid someone to sabotage his own petition?”
“Or someone had access to his money.”
I stared at the paper.
“Who?”
Evelyn looked toward the door again.
“Richard.”
The room seemed suddenly too small.
“Richard had access to Daniel’s accounts?”
“They were business partners.”
I remembered Claire saying Richard owed Daniel a debt that had nothing to do with money.
“What business?”
Evelyn shook her head.
“That I don’t know.”
The door opened.
Bennett stepped in.
“Anna.”
His face was pale.
“What happened?”
“We need to leave.”
“Why?”
He held up his phone.
“The alarm at the farmhouse just activated.”
I froze.
“Someone is there?”
“Yes.”
“The tapes.”
“I know.”
I looked at Evelyn.
“Whoever pushed you might be looking for them.”
She nodded.
Then Bennett added, “There’s something worse.”
I waited.
“The security company sent a camera image.”
He showed me.
A figure had entered the farmhouse.
Older man.
Gray hair.
Broad shoulders.
Thomas.
He stood inside the bedroom holding the box that had contained my mother’s recordings.
Click here to continue reading: PART 8: Thomas Found Us Before We Could Confront Him, and His Explanation for Richard’s Betrayal Revealed Why Daniel Never Became My Guardian
The Morning After Richard’s Funeral, His Lawyer Said One Sentence That Made Our Five-Year Marriage Feel Like a Lie
Part 7 of 35
