Chapter 8: The Man Who Was Supposed to Be Dead
For twenty-six years, I had believed my uncle was dead.
Now Sloan had just told me he was alive.
I stared through the windshield while rain began tapping softly against the glass.
Trevor was still gripping the steering wheel.
“Mom?””
I couldn't answer.
“Mom, who's David?””
I swallowed.
“My father's younger brother.””
“You knew him?””
“Yes.””
“What happened to him?””
I looked at the rain.
“He disappeared.””
“You said everyone thought he died.””
“We did.””
“Why?””
“Because your grandfather told us he was dead.””
Trevor turned toward me.
“That's not an answer.””
“No,” I said quietly.
“It isn't.””
I could still remember David.
He was twelve years younger than my father.
Louder.
More reckless.
More charming.
The kind of man who could enter a room full of strangers and leave with three new friends and someone's watch.
When I was sixteen, he took me sailing.
When I was eighteen, he taught me how to drive his old pickup.
When I was twenty, he vanished.
My father never talked about him again.
One photograph remained in an old album.
David standing beside my father on a dock.
Both of them smiling.
My father looked proud.
David looked dangerous.
After he disappeared, my father burned nearly every photograph he had.
I had always assumed it was grief.
Now I wondered if it had been fear.
Trevor's phone rang.
Sloan again.
He looked at me.
“Should I answer?””
“Yes.””
He put it on speaker.
“Where are you?”” Sloan asked.
“Still at Westbrook.””
“You shouldn't have gone there.””
“You said Lily was there.””
“I said that was where it happened.””
“Why did you mention David?””
Sloan's silence told us enough.
“Who is David?”” Trevor asked.
“You already know.””
“I don't.””
“You know what your grandfather told your mother.””
I felt a chill.
I spoke for the first time.
“You knew about him.””
“Yes.””
“How?””
“Martin told me.””
“Your father?””
“Yes.””
“What did he tell you?””
“That David was the original beneficiary of part of Richard's estate.””
My heart stopped.
“That makes no sense.””
“It does if you understand what happened between the brothers.””
I looked at Trevor.
“Tell me.””
Sloan took a breath.
“Your father and David built a company together.””
I closed my eyes.
My father had always said he built his business alone.
He lied.
“Why did they split?””
“They didn't.””
“What?””
“They never split.””
Trevor frowned.
“Then why did David disappear?””
“Because Richard forced him out.””
“Why?””
“Money.””
I laughed bitterly.
“Of course.””
Sloan continued.
“David discovered that Richard had been moving company funds into a private trust.””
I froze.
“My father stole from his own company?””
“Not exactly.””
“Then what?””
“Richard was protecting assets from David.””
“Why would he need to?””
“Because David was gambling.””
The words sounded too simple.
Too ordinary.
But Sloan's voice was serious.
“David had debts,” she continued.
“Massive ones. He used company accounts as collateral.””
Trevor asked, “Did Grandpa know?””
“He knew everything.””
“And then?””
“Richard transferred what he could into protected trusts.””
“For me?””
“No.””
“For Trevor?””
“Not originally.””
I felt the pieces moving.
Then what was the trust created for?
Sloan said, “For the next generation.””
Trevor frowned.
“That doesn't answer anything.””
“It was designed to protect the family from David.””
A cold silence followed.
I said, “Then why did the trust name Lily?””
“Because she was the first person in the family who couldn't be pressured by him.””
“What about Trevor?””
“He was too loyal.””
The same words from my father's letter.
My son would give everything away.
His loyalty made him vulnerable.
Trevor looked at me.
“That sounds like Grandpa.””
Sloan continued.
“Richard knew David would eventually come back.””
“Why?””
“Because David had one goal.””
“What?””
“The trust.””
I felt my hands go cold.
“Where is David now?””
“I don't know.””
“You just told me he's alive.””
“I know he's alive.””
“Then where is he?””
“I don't know.””
“That's convenient.””
“Diane, I'm not protecting him.””
“Then who are you protecting?””
Another silence.
Sloan finally said, “Lily.””
Trevor's jaw tightened.
“You keep saying Lily's name whenever you don't want to answer a question.””
“Because everything I've done has been about her.””
“Even stealing from Mom?””
“I told you. I borrowed it.””
“Without permission.””
“I was going to replace it.””
“With what?””
Sloan didn't answer.
Trevor looked at me.
I whispered, “Ask her about the trust.””
He did.
“How much money was originally in Dad's trust?””
Sloan hesitated.
“About 1.4 million.””
The number hit me harder than expected.
“And now?””
“About thirty-eight thousand in liquid funds.””
Trevor closed his eyes.
“And the rest?””
“Investments.””
“Where?””
“Different entities.””
“Which entities?””
Sloan didn't answer.
Trevor's voice became colder.
“You keep saying you're protecting Lily. Prove it.””
There was a long pause.
Then Sloan said, “Your mother needs to go home.””
I frowned.
“Why?””
“Because someone has been watching the house.””
My skin prickled.
“What?””
“I'm serious.””
Trevor sat up.
“What do you mean?””
“I noticed a black SUV outside twice yesterday.””
I looked through the rearview mirror.
The hospital parking lot was crowded.
Cars.
People.
Rain.
Nothing unusual.
“When?””
“Morning and evening.””
“Did you get a plate?””
“No.””
“You're lying.””
“No.””
“Then how do you know it wasn't a coincidence?””
“Because the same SUV was parked outside the bank.””
My stomach tightened.
“When?””
“The day you canceled Christmas.””
Trevor looked at me.
“You said nobody knew about the bank.””
Sloan answered softly.
“I didn't say nobody knew.””
The call ended again.
Trevor stared at the phone.
“She's impossible.””
“No,” I said.
“She's scared.””
“You still feel sorry for her?””
“I don't know what I feel.””
We drove home in silence.
When we reached my street, Trevor slowed down.
“There.””
I looked ahead.
A black SUV was parked across from my house.
My heart began pounding.
“Is that the same one?””
Trevor pulled behind my driveway instead of stopping in front.
“I can't tell.””
We sat in the car.
The SUV stayed still.
A man was visible behind the windshield.
He wasn't looking at us.
He was looking at my house.
Trevor reached for his phone.
“Should I call the police?””
“Not yet.””
“Mom.””
“Take a picture.””
He raised his phone.
The SUV started moving.
It rolled slowly past us.
The driver turned his face toward the car.
I saw him.
Older.
Gray at the temples.
Sharp cheekbones.
A scar near his left eyebrow.
I knew that face.
My breath stopped.
“Mom?””
I whispered the name.
“David.””
Trevor looked at me.
“What?””
“That was him.””
“Are you sure?””
“I would know him anywhere.””
The SUV disappeared around the corner.
Trevor started the engine.
“Do we follow?””
“No.””
“Why?””
“Because he wanted us to see him.””
We waited until the street was empty.
Then we went inside.
The front door was locked.
Nothing appeared disturbed.
The house looked exactly as we had left it.
Except for one thing.
An envelope sat on the kitchen table.
My name was written across the front.
In handwriting I hadn't seen since I was twenty years old.
*DIANE.*
Trevor stared at it.
“Don't touch it.””
“I won't.””
I put on disposable gloves from the kitchen drawer.
Then I opened the envelope carefully.
Inside was one photograph.
The same dock from my father's old album.
My father stood on the left.
David stood beside him.
But there was someone else in the photograph.
A woman.
Young.
Smiling.
I didn't recognize her.
On the back, someone had written:
*She was there the night David disappeared.*
Below that:
*Ask your father why he lied.*
Trevor turned the photograph over again.
“Who is she?””
“I don't know.””
There was a second piece of paper.
This time, only four words.
*She is Lily's grandmother.*
I stared at it.
My heart stopped.
“That isn't possible.””
Trevor frowned.
“Why?””
“Because Lily's grandmother is Sloan's mother.””
He looked at the photograph.
Then back at me.
“Mom…”
I zoomed in on the woman's face.
Something about her eyes was familiar.
Not from Sloan.
Not from her mother.
From somewhere much older.
I walked to the old filing cabinet.
Pulled out the family albums.
One by one, I flipped through them.
Then I found it.
A photograph from my father's funeral.
The woman was standing in the background.
Older.
Gray-haired.
But unmistakably the same face.
She wasn't Sloan's mother.
She was someone I'd seen before.
Someone my father had specifically ordered me never to speak to.
His secretary.
Evelyn Price.
I sat down hard.
Trevor stared at me.
“Who is she?””
“My father's secretary.””
“What does she have to do with Lily?””
“I don't know.””
He picked up the photograph again.
“Maybe Sloan does.””
I looked at my phone.
A text message had arrived from an unknown number.
*You finally know David is alive.*
Another message followed.
*Now learn why your father wanted him dead.*
May you like
Then a third.
*And before you trust Sloan, ask her who Lily's real father is.*
