Chapter 7: The Will That Was Never Supposed to Exist
At 8:19 p.m., I discovered that my dead wife had left behind a fortune nobody had told me about.
At 8:23 p.m., I learned that the fortune might be the reason someone had taken my daughter.
And by 8:30 p.m., I was beginning to understand why Vanessa had married me.
Detective Harris stood beside the dining table, studying the photograph of the basement room in Rachel's parents' abandoned house. Rebecca Mills had spread the available documents across the table, arranging them by date.
The paternity report sat beside Emily's handwritten notebook.
The custody petition lay beside the photograph of Chloe.
And in the center was the note found in the basement.
*DO NOT RELEASE THE CHILD UNTIL THE ORIGINAL WILL IS PRODUCED.*
I stared at it.
"What will are they talking about?""
Rebecca opened her briefcase.
"I've spent the last twenty minutes searching the estate records I have access to. There's no will on file that matches the description.""
"Emily had a will.""
"Yes. The will we prepared after she received her diagnosis. It left her personal property to you and established provisions for Chloe.""
"That's the only one I know about.""
Rebecca turned her laptop toward me.
"But there may have been an earlier document.""
A scan appeared on the screen.
It was a legal instrument dated three months before Chloe's birth. The first page identified Emily's father, Robert Collins, as the principal party.
I frowned.
"Emily's father died before Chloe was born.""
"According to the public record, yes. But this document was executed while he was still alive.""
I read the heading.
*THE COLLINS FAMILY IRREVOCABLE TRUST.*
Beneath it was a list of beneficiaries.
One name appeared at the top.
Emily Collins.
Another appeared farther down.
Chloe Elizabeth Hayes.
I leaned closer.
"How much money are we talking about?""
Rebecca examined the attached schedule.
"Based on the original valuation, the trust held commercial properties, investment accounts, and mineral rights. The current value could be substantial.""
"How substantial?""
She hesitated.
"If the assets have been maintained and the properties appreciated as expected, possibly eight figures.""
I stared at her.
"You're telling me Emily's family had millions of dollars?""
"Potentially. I need the complete instrument and current asset records before I can give you a reliable figure.""
I thought about the modest life Emily and I had built. We had lived in an ordinary house, driven practical cars, and saved carefully for Chloe's education.
Emily had never mentioned an inheritance of that size.
"Why didn't she tell me?""
Rebecca closed the laptop halfway.
"She may not have known the full value. Or she may have had reasons for keeping the trust separate from your marital finances.""
"Like what?""
"That's what we need to establish.""
Detective Harris picked up the document.
"Who controls the trust?""
Rebecca examined the final page.
"According to this copy, Robert Collins appointed a corporate trustee. But there's a clause allowing a successor trustee to be nominated if the original trustee resigns or becomes unable to serve.""
"Who is the successor?""
Rebecca read the name.
Then she went completely still.
"What?"" I demanded.
She looked up.
"Vanessa Mercer.""
The name seemed to suck all the air from the room.
"That's impossible.""
"Her signature appears beside the appointment.""
"But she told me her maiden name was Collins.""
"Perhaps that was another lie.""
I began pacing.
"She married me to get to the trust.""
Rebecca didn't answer immediately.
"Daniel, it's a possibility. But we shouldn't conclude that the marriage itself was fraudulent until we know more.""
I remembered Vanessa kneeling beside Chloe at our wedding, promising to love her.
Had she been acting even then?
Had every birthday present, every kind word, every carefully arranged family photograph been part of a plan?
My hands curled into fists.
"I want to know everything about her.""
Harris nodded to the officer beside him.
"We're already working on that.""
He turned to Rebecca.
"Can the trust documents be authenticated tonight?""
"I can contact the current trustee. If the original institution still exists, we may be able to verify the appointment records.""
She made several calls.
The first went unanswered.
The second reached a legal assistant who promised to locate the archived file.
The third call lasted less than two minutes.
When Rebecca hung up, her expression had changed.
"The original trustee resigned four years ago.""
"Why?""
"The file says the resignation followed a dispute over the beneficiary's identity.""
I felt cold.
"Whose identity?""
"Chloe's.""
Rebecca turned her laptop back toward us.
A scanned letter appeared.
It was addressed to the trustee and signed by Emily.
I am requesting that all distributions remain suspended until the question of Chloe's biological parentage has been resolved. Under no circumstances should the child be transferred to another guardian without my written consent.
Beneath the letter was a handwritten note from the trustee.
Request denied pending submission of original testamentary instrument.
I read it twice.
"Emily was trying to protect Chloe's inheritance.""
"That's what it appears to show," Rebecca said.
"But why would the trustee deny her request?""
"Because the trust's governing instrument may have required a specific form of evidence or a court order. We need the original.""
I looked at the basement photograph again.
The metal cabinet.
The boxes.
The handwritten instruction demanding the original will.
Someone believed the document still existed.
Someone believed I had it.
And someone was prepared to keep Chloe until I produced it.
My phone rang.
The screen showed an unknown number.
Harris motioned for me to answer on speaker.
"Hello?""
A man's voice filled the kitchen.
"Mr. Hayes. We have very little time.""
"Where is my daughter?""
"Safe, for now.""
"Put her on the phone.""
"Not until you understand the situation.""
I clenched my jaw.
"I understand that you've taken a ten-year-old child and are threatening her father.""
The man chuckled.
"You have the wrong idea about fathers, Daniel.""
"Who is this?""
"Someone who has spent ten years watching his daughter grow up from a distance.""
I looked at Harris.
He was recording the call.
"Are you Andrew Mercer?""
A pause.
"That depends on what you believe a name proves.""
"Put Chloe on the phone.""
"First, tell me whether you've found the will.""
"No.""
"Then find it.""
"Where?""
The man's voice hardened.
"Emily left it somewhere only you would think to look.""
I glanced at the wedding album on the desk.
"The album?""
He said nothing.
"Was the will hidden in Emily's things?""
"You were her husband. You lived with her. You slept beside her. If she wanted you to find something, where would she put it?""
My thoughts raced.
Emily's desk.
Her notebooks.
The recorder.
The envelope.
We had searched the obvious places, but perhaps not everything.
"Why do you need the will?"" I asked.
"Because it determines who controls the trust.""
"You're Chloe's biological father, aren't you?""
Silence.
Then the man spoke.
"Your wife has told you a great many things, hasn't she?""
"Vanessa isn't my wife anymore.""
"That's a decision you may regret.""
"Let me speak to Chloe.""
This time, I heard movement.
A door opening.
A muffled voice.
Then Chloe came onto the line.
"Daddy?""
I nearly collapsed.
"Baby, I'm here.""
"Are you coming?""
"Yes. I'm coming. I promise.""
She was crying.
"They keep saying I have to go with someone else.""
"No one is going to make you go anywhere without making sure you're safe.""
"But Vanessa says—"
A sharp sound interrupted her.
Then the man returned.
"That's enough.""
"Don't you touch her!""
"Then bring the will.""
The line went dead.
I stood motionless, listening to the silence.
Rebecca placed a hand on my arm.
"We need to search Emily's remaining belongings.""
Harris shook his head.
"Not alone. We'll document everything, and we'll coordinate with the officers in Oklahoma.""
I led them to the guest room.
The desk drawer was still open. The notebooks lay where we'd left them.
I picked up the wedding album.
Emily had loved old photographs. She used to say pictures remembered the things people forgot.
I examined the back cover, the spine, and the cardboard lining.
Nothing.
Then I noticed the album was thicker than it should have been.
I turned it sideways.
A narrow gap ran along the bottom edge of the cover.
Using a letter opener, I carefully separated the backing.
A folded sheet of paper slid out.
It wasn't a will.
It was a letter from Emily's father, written in a shaky hand shortly before his death.
Emily, if you are reading this, then I have failed to settle the matter while I still had time.
I read on.
The original instrument is not in the safe, nor is it with the attorney. I placed it where your mother always kept the things she considered too important for a bank.
The next paragraph had been underlined.
If Andrew returns, do not give him the original. He has no right to it, regardless of what he claims about the child.
I felt my heart pound.
At the bottom was a final line.
The key is in the blue room.
I looked up.
"The blue room?""
Rebecca searched the old photographs in the album.
One showed Emily as a child, standing beside a blue-painted bedroom door. In the background, an elderly woman sat at a desk.
Emily's mother.
Margaret Collins.
I had met her only twice before she died.
She had been frail, quiet, and fiercely protective of her granddaughter. Before she passed away, she gave Emily a small brass key and told her never to lose it.
I remembered the key.
Emily had kept it on a chain in her jewelry box.
After she died, I had packed her jewelry away and stored it in the attic.
I rushed upstairs.
The attic smelled of dust and cedar. I opened the old storage trunk containing Emily's belongings and searched through the jewelry box.
At the bottom lay a small brass key.
Beside it was a faded blue ribbon.
I held the key in my palm.
Then I heard Rebecca call from downstairs.
"Daniel! There's something else in the letter.""
I hurried back.
She pointed to the final paragraph.
If the trust is ever challenged, the original will establish not only the beneficiaries, but the truth about Andrew's claim. I have made sure the evidence cannot be altered.
I looked at the key.
The blue room had belonged to Emily's mother, but the house had been sold after her death. Rachel had told us that their parents' old furniture was stored in the Oklahoma property.
Perhaps the room still existed.
Perhaps the document was there.
I called Rachel.
She answered breathlessly.
"Daniel?""
"Did your mother have a blue room?""
"Yes. Her sewing room. Why?""
"Was anything kept inside it after the house was emptied?""
Rachel paused.
"There was an old cedar chest. Mom kept family documents and jewelry in it. We never moved it because the lock was broken.""
"Is it still there?""
"I don't know. I haven't been inside that house in years.""
I looked at Harris.
"We need to get to Oklahoma.""
He nodded.
"We're already coordinating with local officers. If the chest is there, they'll search it under the appropriate authority.""
My phone vibrated.
A message from the unknown number.
It contained a photograph of Chloe sitting beside a window.
She was holding a small piece of paper.
On it, in her handwriting, were four words.
*DADDY, FIND THE BLUE ROOM.*
Beneath the photograph was another message.
*MIDNIGHT. NO MORE WARNINGS.*
I stared at the screen.
Then I noticed something in the photograph's background.
A framed picture hanging on the wall.
It showed a little girl standing beside an elderly woman in front of a blue door.
Emily.
And her mother.
The room where Chloe was being held wasn't the guest room in the abandoned house.
May you like
It was the blue room.
And whoever had taken my daughter had just told me exactly where to find her.
