Chapter 8: The Daughter They Never Planned For
Arthur survived.
The bullet had passed through his shoulder, missing the artery by less than an inch. By the time the ambulance reached the hospital, he was conscious and furious that the paramedics wouldn't let him sit up.
Detective Ward stationed officers outside his room.
My father arrived shortly after midnight.
He looked at the bandage around Arthur's shoulder, then at me.
"Are you hurt?""
"No.""
He pulled me into a hug so suddenly that I stiffened.
For a moment, neither of us spoke.
Then I felt his shoulders shake.
"I'm sorry," he whispered.
I didn't know whether he meant the shooting, the lies, or the seventeen years he'd spent trying to protect me from the truth.
Maybe he meant all of it.
I rested my forehead against his shoulder.
"I'm still angry with you.""
"I know.""
"I don't know if I can forgive you.""
"I know that, too.""
He held me for another moment before letting go.
And somehow, that was the first honest conversation we'd had in years.
Detective Ward entered the hospital room carrying a tablet.
"We have a development.""
Arthur attempted to sit up.
"Did you catch him?""
"No. But we recovered footage from a traffic camera two streets away. The suspect's vehicle was registered to a company connected to Mercer Timber.""
Dad frowned.
"Which company?""
"Northbridge Industrial Services.""
The name meant nothing to me.
It meant something to my father.
His face changed.
"That company hasn't operated in fifteen years.""
"According to the records, it was dissolved twelve years ago," Ward replied.
"But its registered agent recently filed paperwork to reactivate it.""
"Who filed the paperwork?""
Ward looked at her tablet.
"Renata Mercer.""
Dad sat down.
Arthur closed his eyes.
I stared at them both.
"Tell me what Northbridge is.""
Dad rubbed his forehead.
"Years ago, before your mother died, we contracted with Northbridge to handle certain industrial materials. The company was supposed to process and dispose of chemical waste from the mill.""
"Supposed to?""
"Some of the invoices didn't match our inventory. We terminated the contract after discovering irregularities.""
"Who owned Northbridge?""
Dad looked at Arthur.
The lawyer answered.
"Victor Hale was listed as a director.""
I felt sick.
"Victor was involved in the chemical purchases.""
"Yes," Arthur said.
"And Renata reactivated his company.""
"Apparently.""
I turned toward my father.
"Why?""
He didn't answer.
Detective Ward did.
"Because Northbridge may have been used to move money and materials without triggering the usual company audits. If Mrs. Mercer reactivated it, she may have been trying to recover records or conceal transactions.""
"Or she could be trying to find the missing folder," I said.
Ward nodded.
"That's one possibility.""
I thought about the message we'd received at the mansion.
Stop asking about Victor. The next person who looks for the missing folder won't be as lucky as he was.
Someone had killed Victor.
Someone had shot Arthur.
And Renata had been connected to both.
But I couldn't stop thinking about the silver ring.
The one I'd seen on the hand of the person fleeing Arthur's office.
My father's ring.
I looked at him.
"Where were you when Arthur was shot?""
"At the police station.""
"Who had access to your ring?""
He glanced at his hand.
The ring was gone.
My blood ran cold.
"Dad?""
He looked down at his bare finger.
"I took it off before I left the house.""
"Where is it?""
"I don't know.""
Detective Ward stepped closer.
"Why did you take it off?""
Dad looked as if he might be sick.
"Because I didn't want anyone to recognize it.""
The room went silent.
I stared at him.
"You knew someone was going to attack Arthur?""
"No.""
"Then why did you take it off?""
He shook his head.
"I thought the ring might connect me to the photographs. I didn't want the police to mistake me for the person in them.""
"That's convenient.""
"Evelyn—"
"You've lied about the night Mom died. You've lied about Victor. You've lied about the laboratory report. And now your ring is missing.""
His eyes filled with tears.
"I know how this looks.""
"Then tell me how it actually is.""
He opened his mouth.
Before he could speak, Arthur reached across the bed and caught my wrist.
"Evelyn," he said quietly.
"Your father is not the only person who wore that ring.""
I turned toward him.
"What?""
Arthur looked at Daniel.
"Tell her.""
Dad's face went rigid.
Then, slowly, he reached into his jacket pocket and removed a small velvet box.
Inside lay a second ring.
It was identical to the one he'd worn for years.
Same silver band.
Same square black stone.
Same tiny scratch along the edge.
I stared at it.
"Why do you have two?""
Dad closed the box.
"Because my grandfather had two made.""
"For whom?""
He looked at me.
"One for me. One for my brother.""
I blinked.
"You have a brother?""
The question seemed absurd the moment I asked it.
My father had never mentioned a brother. Not in childhood stories, not at family gatherings, not even when we'd visited the cemetery to place flowers on my mother's grave.
He'd always told me he was an only child.
Dad sat down slowly.
"His name was Thomas.""
"Was?""
"He died before you were born.""
"How?""
My father looked toward the hospital window.
"He was killed in an industrial accident at the mill.""
Arthur closed his eyes.
I looked between them.
"Was it really an accident?""
Neither man answered.
I felt the familiar coldness creeping through me.
"Tell me.""
Dad took a long breath.
"Thomas worked in the chemical treatment division. He discovered that some of our waste materials were being diverted to Northbridge without proper documentation. He reported it to me.""
"Who was responsible?""
"We suspected Victor.""
"And Renata?""
"She was working in the company's accounts department at the time.""
I thought about the old photograph.
The ring.
The missing folder.
"Was Thomas wearing his ring when he died?""
Dad nodded.
"It was recovered from the accident site.""
"Then why do you still have a second one?""
"Because I kept it after his funeral.""
I stared at the velvet box.
"Could someone have taken it?""
Dad's expression changed.
"Renata knew where I kept it.""
"Where?""
"In the locked wardrobe.""
The same wardrobe where he'd found the dresses.
The same wardrobe Renata had kept locked.
I thought of her standing in the dressing room with the scissors, smiling as she destroyed the gown my father and I had chosen together.
She hadn't simply been cruel.
She'd been trying to provoke him.
To make him angry enough to reveal something.
Or perhaps to make him look guilty.
Detective Ward took the box from my father.
"Did anyone else know about this second ring?""
"Arthur. Renata. And a few relatives who attended Thomas's funeral.""
Ward examined it carefully.
"Then the person who attacked Mr. Finch may have been wearing your brother's ring.""
My father nodded.
"Possibly.""
Arthur shifted against his pillows.
"There is something else you need to understand.""
We turned toward him.
He looked at me.
"Your mother did not create the trust simply to leave you money.""
"I know. She wanted to protect me.""
"She wanted to protect you from a person who had already demonstrated what they were willing to do to get control of the family business.""
"Renata.""
Arthur hesitated.
"Not necessarily.""
I stared at him.
"Who else could it be?""
He reached toward the bedside table and took a folded paper from beneath his glasses.
"This is a copy of your mother's original instructions. I found it among the documents Victor gave me shortly before he disappeared.""
Detective Ward took the paper and unfolded it.
The writing was my mother's.
If anything happens to me, the trust must remain untouched until Evelyn turns eighteen. The person responsible will try to convince Daniel that the evidence implicates him. Do not allow him to destroy the original records, even if he believes he is protecting his daughter.
I read the words twice.
My mother had known someone would try to turn my father against himself.
She had known he would be afraid.
And she had known that fear could make him destroy the very evidence he needed.
"Why did she write that?"" I asked.
Arthur looked at my father.
"Because she believed the person behind the fraud was someone Daniel loved and trusted.""
Dad lowered his head.
"Renata.""
Arthur shook his head.
"Your mother never wrote the name.""
"Then who?""
The lawyer stared at the ceiling.
"I don't know.""
But I could tell he was withholding something.
I moved closer to the bed.
"Arthur, someone shot you tonight. Victor is dead. My mother died under suspicious circumstances.
My father has been lying to me for seventeen years. If you know something, you need to tell me now.""
He looked at me for a long time.
Then he said, "Your mother asked me to investigate someone in her own family.""
I frowned.
"Which family?""
"Her birth family.""
My heart stopped.
"My mother had family?""
"Yes. A brother.""
I stared at him.
"She had a brother?""
"His name was Michael Ashford. He was estranged from your mother for years. They reconciled shortly before she died.""
I thought about the photograph of my mother in the garden.
The one where she'd been laughing.
I had never known there was an uncle somewhere in the world who might have remembered that sound.
"Where is he now?""
Arthur's expression darkened.
"Missing.""
"Since when?""
"Three days after your mother's death.""
I felt the room tilt.
"Do you think he was involved?""
"No," Arthur said immediately.
"Your mother trusted him. She believed he could help her expose the fraud.""
"Then why did he disappear?""
Arthur looked toward Detective Ward.
"Because he was the only person who knew where the original folder had been taken.""
I remembered the metal box beneath the floor.
The blue bottle.
The missing laboratory records.
"Where did he take it?""
Arthur closed his eyes.
"I don't know.""
For a moment, the only sound in the room was the steady beep of the heart monitor.
Then my father spoke.
"There's one place Michael used to go when he wanted to disappear.""
Arthur turned toward him.
"No.""
Dad looked at me.
"The old mill.""
Detective Ward immediately called for a unit to secure the property.
But before she could finish the call, my phone buzzed.
An unknown number.
A message appeared.
*Evelyn, if you want to know who killed your mother, come to the old mill alone. Bring the blue bottle. Midnight.*
A second message arrived before I could react.
*And don't trust the man who says he loves you.*
I looked at my father.
He was staring at the screen.
May you like
For the first time, I couldn't tell whether he was afraid for me.
Or afraid of what I might discover.
