Chapter 8: The Uncle Who Wasn't Dead
I couldn't speak.
Richard Carter.
My uncle.
My father's younger brother.
The man I had been told died in a boating accident when I was fifteen.
I looked at Patricia.
"That's impossible.""
She removed her glasses.
"Why?""
"My uncle died.""
Daniel looked at me.
"Are you sure?""
I nodded.
"My father told us he drowned. There was a funeral.""
Patricia opened another folder.
"Was there a body?""
I stared at her.
"I don't know.""
"Was there a death certificate?""
"I was fifteen. My father handled everything.""
Patricia exchanged a glance with Daniel.
Then she pulled out a document.
"This is a copy of Richard Carter's last known business registration. It was filed eleven months ago.""
I stared at the page.
The company name was familiar.
*Carter Land Holdings.*
The same name appeared in the email correspondence between Ethan and the development company.
I looked at Patricia.
"Why is my uncle connected to this?""
She turned another page.
"Because Richard was one of the original trustees.""
Daniel leaned forward.
"Was he the person who disappeared?""
Patricia nodded.
"According to Thomas Whitmore, Richard disappeared after attempting to transfer ownership of the eastern section without the other trustees' approval.""
I felt dizzy.
"Then why did my father tell us he died?""
Patricia didn't answer.
Instead, she showed me an old newspaper clipping.
The headline read:
*LOCAL BUSINESSMAN FEARED DEAD AFTER BOATING INCIDENT.*
Below it was a photograph of my uncle.
I remembered him.
He had been tall, charming, and always wore expensive watches.
When I was little, he brought me presents from his business trips.
He taught me how to play chess.
He used to call me his little detective.
But I also remembered the arguments.
My father and uncle would disappear into the study, their voices rising behind closed doors.
Then one evening, Uncle Richard stopped coming around.
My father told us there had been an accident.
I looked at the article.
"Was there an investigation?""
Patricia nodded.
"Yes. But no body was recovered.""
I pressed my fingers against my temples.
"Why would my father lie?""
Daniel leaned toward me.
"Maybe he didn't know the truth.""
Patricia shook her head.
"There's something else.""
She placed another photograph on the table.
It showed an older man standing outside a small restaurant.
His hair was gray.
His face was thinner.
But I recognized him immediately.
I dropped the photograph.
"That's him.""
Patricia nodded.
"The photograph was taken four months ago.""
My voice barely worked.
"Richard is alive?""
"According to the investigator who obtained the photograph, yes.""
I looked at Daniel.
"Then why hasn't he contacted us?""
Patricia folded her hands.
"Because he may not want you to know where he is.""
I stared at the photograph.
The uncle I had mourned for seventeen years was apparently alive.
And he had been connected to the property my husband was trying to sell.
I couldn't make sense of any of it.
Then Daniel spoke.
"Could Ethan have been working with him?""
Patricia looked at the documents.
"It's possible.""
I shook my head.
"Ethan never mentioned my uncle.""
Patricia pointed to a transaction.
"There's a payment from E&B Consulting to Carter Land Holdings.""
I leaned closer.
The amount was $18,000.
The date was six months earlier.
I looked at Daniel.
"That's the same amount as our pool.""
He nodded.
"Yes.""
I felt my stomach twist.
The pool.
The beautiful, expensive pool where I'd caught Ethan and Brooke.
It suddenly felt like a cruel symbol of everything I'd misunderstood.
I had believed the pool was a reward for years of hard work.
Apparently, some of the money behind it had come from the same business dealings that threatened my inheritance.
Patricia looked at me.
"Emma, I need to ask you something. Did your husband have access to the original property documents?""
"Yes.""
"Did he ever ask you to sign anything related to your father's estate?""
I remembered the papers.
The ones Ethan had brought home last spring.
He'd said they were routine updates.
I'd signed some documents without reading every page.
My heart began pounding.
"Yes.""
Patricia sat forward.
"What did you sign?""
"I don't remember exactly.""
"Do you have copies?""
"Maybe in the house.""
She nodded.
"We need to find them.""
That evening, Lauren and I returned home with Patricia's instructions.
Daniel stayed behind to make additional calls.
The house felt different.
The furniture was the same.
The photographs were still on the walls.
Ethan's shoes were still beside the front door.
But every familiar object now seemed connected to a lie.
Lauren went straight to the study.
I followed.
"Where should we look?""
"Your filing cabinet.""
We opened every drawer.
Mortgage statements.
Insurance documents.
Tax returns.
Old contracts.
Then Lauren found a thick folder labeled:
*PROPERTY ADMINISTRATION — 2025.*
She placed it on the desk.
I opened it.
Inside were several documents with my signature.
The first was a standard insurance update.
The second was a property tax declaration.
The third was something I didn't recognize.
*AUTHORIZATION TO REPRESENT BENEFICIAL OWNER.*
I read the first paragraph.
Then the second.
My name appeared at the top.
Ethan's name appeared beneath it.
The document appeared to authorize him to communicate with attorneys and negotiate certain property matters on my behalf.
I felt sick.
"I signed this.""
Lauren looked over my shoulder.
"Did you know what it was?""
"No. He told me it was for the insurance company.""
She turned the page.
"Emma, look at the date.""
It had been signed seven months earlier.
Three months before Ethan first mentioned selling the mineral rights.
I continued reading.
There was a clause allowing the representative to submit documents to the property trust.
But the authorization did not appear to grant him permission to sell the property.
I felt a small sense of relief.
Then Lauren found another document.
It was a copy of an email.
The sender was Ethan.
The recipient was Richard Carter.
I stared at the screen.
I've secured Emma's authorization. We can proceed once the trust administrator confirms the transfer route.
My hands went cold.
Below it was Richard's reply.
Do not involve the girl until everything is finalized. She has no idea what her father promised.
The girl.
He was talking about me.
My own uncle.
I read the message again.
Lauren sat down.
"Oh, Emma.""
I scrolled further.
There was another message.
This one was dated two months later.
The developer has agreed to advance the money. I need the original trust amendment before Friday.
Richard replied:
Thomas still has it. Find another way.
Then Ethan wrote:
Daniel Mitchell is the problem.
I stopped breathing.
Lauren leaned closer.
"Keep going.""
The final message was from Richard.
Then make sure he never gets involved.
I felt the room tilt.
This was no longer just a story about cheating.
Ethan had been coordinating with my missing uncle.
They had known about the trust.
They had known about Daniel.
And they had been trying to prevent him from discovering the truth.
I immediately called Daniel.
He answered on the first ring.
"Emma?""
"I found something.""
"What?""
I read him the email.
He was silent for several seconds.
Then he said, "Send it to Patricia. Right now.""
I forwarded the documents.
"Daniel, what do we do?""
"We need to secure the trust records.""
"Where are they?""
He hesitated.
"Thomas told me there was a second copy.""
"Where?""
"At the old Whitmore office.""
I frowned.
"Isn't that the building in the photograph?""
"Yes.""
"Can we go there?""
"Not tonight. I want Patricia involved.""
I glanced at the clock.
It was almost nine.
Then another notification appeared on my phone.
An email from an unknown sender.
This time, there was no subject line.
Only an attachment.
A photograph.
I opened it.
My blood ran cold.
It showed Ethan standing outside the Whitmore office.
Beside him was an older man.
Richard.
My uncle.
The photograph had been taken yesterday.
I enlarged it.
Richard was holding a document envelope.
Ethan was pointing toward a black SUV.
The timestamp showed 6:42 p.m.
I called Daniel again.
"Daniel, I have a photograph.""
"What photograph?""
"Ethan and Richard. Together. Yesterday.""
He went silent.
Then he asked, "Where did you get it?""
"Someone emailed it to me.""
"Send it immediately.""
I did.
A few seconds later, my phone rang.
It was Daniel.
"Emma, listen carefully. Do not go anywhere alone.""
"What?""
"I just checked the address attached to the photograph.""
"Where is it?""
"The Whitmore office.""
I looked at Lauren.
"Why?""
Daniel's voice dropped.
"Because Thomas Whitmore's car is parked outside.""
I felt my stomach tighten.
"Is he there?""
"I don't know.""
Then Daniel said something that made my blood freeze.
"The police just received an emergency call from that building.""
"What happened?""
He paused.
"Someone broke in.""
I gripped the phone.
"Who?""
Daniel took a breath.
"Thomas Whitmore is missing.""
We arrived at the Whitmore office twenty minutes later.
Two police cars were parked outside.
A third vehicle blocked the narrow driveway.
An officer stood near the entrance, speaking to a man in a gray coat.
Daniel approached first.
He introduced himself and explained that he had been in contact with Thomas earlier that afternoon.
The officer asked us to wait.
I stood beside Lauren, staring at the building.
The front door was open.
One of the windows had been shattered.
A broken flowerpot lay near the entrance.
Then I noticed something on the pavement.
A small brass key.
I bent down.
"Emma, don't touch it," Lauren whispered.
I stopped.
The officer noticed us.
"Ma'am, please stay behind the line.""
I stepped back.
A few minutes later, another officer emerged carrying a cardboard box.
Inside were folders, photographs, and several old legal documents.
Daniel recognized the blue label immediately.
"That's the trust archive.""
The officer looked at him.
"Are you familiar with these documents?""
"Yes.""
"Then we may need you to identify some of them.""
Daniel nodded.
I looked toward the building.
"Have you found Thomas?""
The officer hesitated.
"Not yet.""
My stomach tightened.
Then a police radio crackled.
An officer near the driveway turned sharply.
"Repeat that.""
A voice answered.
"Vehicle located approximately two miles from the property.""
The officer looked at us.
"Mr. Whitmore's car has been found.""
Daniel frowned.
"Where?""
The officer checked his notes.
"Near the old railway bridge.""
I looked at Lauren.
"Was there an accident?""
The officer didn't answer.
Instead, he asked Daniel to step aside.
A few seconds later, Daniel returned.
His face was pale.
"What?"" I asked.
He looked at me.
"They found Thomas's phone inside the car.""
"And Thomas?""
Daniel swallowed.
"Not inside.""
My phone vibrated.
Another email.
I opened it.
The sender was the same unknown address.
This time, there was a photograph of a handwritten note.
I recognized the handwriting.
It belonged to my father.
The message contained only one sentence:
If Richard comes back, ask him what happened to the original deed.
I looked up.
Across the street, a black SUV had stopped beneath a streetlight.
The driver's door opened.
An older man stepped out.
Gray hair.
Narrow face.
Expensive watch.
Richard Carter.
My uncle.
He looked directly at me.
May you like
Then he smiled.
"Hello, Emma.""
