Chapter 5: The Woman at My Mother's Door
“Get a unit to my mother's address,” I told Detective Reed.
“Now.””
He was already moving.
“Dispatch has the location. Officers are responding.””
“I want to go there.””
“You can, but not alone. Whoever sent that message may be watching you.””
“I don't care.””
“You should,” he replied sharply.
“If this is connected to the missing funds and the forged agreement, the person behind it may be willing to do something reckless. Let my officers secure the house first.””
I hated waiting.
For ten years, waiting had been the thing people told me to do.
Wait for the business to grow.
Wait until I could afford better equipment.
Wait until the bank approved another loan.
Wait until I became someone worth listening to.
Now my mother was alone with a stranger who wanted her signature, and I was being told to sit in a hotel conference room while strangers made decisions about my family.
I picked up my jacket from the back of the chair.
“I'm leaving.””
Detective Reed blocked the door.
“You can leave with me. Not without me.””
I stared at him, then nodded.
“Fine.””
He turned to the hotel security director.
“Keep Mrs. Whitmore here until we establish whether she's at risk. Have officers remain with Mr. Carter's associates, and make sure nobody removes the evidence.””
Vanessa stood abruptly.
“I want to go with James.””
“No,” I said.
She flinched.
“James, please. I know I can't undo what happened, but I may be able to help.””
“How?””
“Claire and I spoke regularly after she left your company. She told me things about your father. Things she never told you.””
I paused.
“What things?””
“She said your father had borrowed money from someone before he died. She said he signed a document that gave another person an interest in the property he owned.””
“That property was transferred into a family trust.””
“That's what I thought. But Claire said the trust was never properly registered.””
The pieces didn't fit yet, but I could feel the outline of something forming.
“Why would my father borrow money?””
Vanessa shook her head.
“I don't know. Claire said he was trying to save his machine shop. She believed someone had taken advantage of him.””
“Who?””
“She never told me.””
I studied her face.
For the first time that evening, Vanessa seemed less concerned about her own future than about what might happen next.
“Stay here,” I said.
“If you remember anything else, tell Detective Reed.””
She reached for my sleeve but stopped before touching it.
“James, I'm sorry.””
I looked at her hand.
Then at her face.
“I hear you.””
It was all I could offer.
Detective Reed and I left through a service corridor to avoid the reporters gathering near the main entrance. Outside, two unmarked police vehicles waited beneath the hotel's covered driveway.
The ride to Savannah took nearly four hours, but we didn't make it that far.
Forty minutes outside Atlanta, Detective Reed received a call from the officers at my mother's home.
They had arrived to find the front door open.
My mother's car was in the driveway.
The stranger was gone.
And my mother was sitting on the kitchen floor with blood running down her forehead.
I felt the world tilt.
“Is she alive?”” I demanded.
Detective Reed put the call on speaker.
“She's conscious,” an officer replied.
“Paramedics are treating her now. She has a cut above her eyebrow and appears shaken, but she's responding to questions.””
“Where's the woman?””
“Unknown. We have a description from the neighbor. Female, approximately forty, dark hair, gray coat. She left in a dark sedan.””
I closed my eyes.
“Did she take anything?””
“The house appears to have been searched. Drawers are open, papers scattered across the floor. We haven't completed the inventory.””
“Was anything signed?””
“We found a document on the kitchen table. It's an authorization to transfer an interest in a commercial property.””
“Was it signed?””
A pause.
“No, sir. The signature line is blank.””
Relief struck so hard that I had to grip the door handle.
My mother had refused.
Even frightened and injured, she had refused.
“Tell her I'm coming,” I said.
The officer promised to pass along the message.
Detective Reed accelerated.
When we reached the house, an ambulance was parked beside the driveway. Blue and red lights flashed across the white siding, and two officers stood near the front porch.
I jumped out before the car had fully stopped.
“Mom!””
A paramedic looked up from the ambulance.
“She's stable. We're recommending an evaluation at the hospital, but she insists on speaking with you first.””
I climbed inside.
My mother sat on the stretcher with a blanket around her shoulders. A bandage covered the cut above her eyebrow. Her silver hair had fallen loose from its clip, and her hands trembled in her lap.
For a moment, I was ten years old again, standing beside her kitchen table after falling from my bicycle.
She reached for me.
“James.””
I took her hand.
“I'm here.””
“I'm sorry.””
“You have nothing to apologize for.””
“They wanted me to sign something.””
“I know.””
She swallowed.
“The woman said Claire had sent her. She knew about your father's property. She knew things about our family that nobody outside the family should know.””
“What did she say?””
My mother looked toward the open ambulance doors.
“She said the property belonged to someone else. She said your father had promised it away before he died.””
“Did you believe her?””
“No.””
Her answer came so quickly that I almost smiled.
“Your father could be stubborn,” she continued.
“But he would never have given away the family home without telling me.””
“Did you see the document?””
She nodded.
“It had your father's signature on it. Or something that looked like his signature.””
I sat beside her.
“Did you recognize it?””
“I did.””
My stomach tightened.
“What do you mean?””
She looked at me, and tears gathered in her eyes.
“I signed the original agreement with him.””
I went still.
“What agreement?””
My mother closed her eyes.
“Your father borrowed money to save his machine shop. He thought he could repay it within a year. The lender offered him a temporary loan secured against the commercial property.””
“Who was the lender?””
“I never knew the man's real name. Your father called him Mr. Whitmore.””
The name struck me like a blow.
Richard's father.
My mother continued.
“Your father told me the debt had been settled. He said the documents were destroyed. But after he died, I found a copy of the agreement among his papers.””
“Where is it?””
“I kept it in a locked drawer in my bedroom. I thought it was just an old debt record.””
“Did the woman take it?””
My mother shook her head.
“No. She asked for the original, but I told her I didn't have it.””
“Did you?””
She looked down.
“I gave it to Claire.””
The ambulance seemed to shrink around us.
“When?””
“About eight years ago. She said she was organizing the estate records. She promised to keep it safe.””
I tried to remember the last time I'd discussed the property with Claire.
She had insisted the estate paperwork was complete. She had told me the old commercial lot wasn't worth keeping and recommended selling it to cover the remaining expenses.
I'd refused.
The property had belonged to our father. Even if it was worth very little, I couldn't bring myself to sell it.
“Why didn't you tell me?””
“Because Claire said the agreement was meaningless. She told me the debt had expired.””
My mother squeezed my fingers.
“James, I trusted her.””
I looked through the ambulance doors toward the house.
The woman who had searched it had known exactly what she wanted. She hadn't been looking for jewelry or cash.
She had been looking for a document.
And someone had gone to considerable trouble to make sure that document never reached me.
Detective Reed entered the ambulance.
“Mrs. Carter, can you describe the woman who visited you?””
My mother nodded and gave him the details.
Then she added something that made him stop writing.
“She had a small scar on her right hand. Just below the thumb.””
I frowned.
“Are you sure?””
“Yes. She wore a ring, but I could see the scar when she reached for the papers.””
Detective Reed exchanged a look with the officer beside him.
“What?”” I asked.
He hesitated.
“We've received a preliminary description from the hotel security team. The woman who left the envelope near your car had a similar mark on her hand.””
“Eleanor?””
“No. The woman in the footage was wearing a dark coat, and the image isn't clear enough for a positive identification. But the description is consistent.””
My mother looked frightened again.
“Then the same woman was at both places?””
“Possibly,” Reed said.
“We need to confirm it.””
I stepped out of the ambulance and walked into the house.
The living room looked as if a storm had passed through it. Cushions lay on the floor. A cabinet stood open, its contents scattered across the rug. Family photographs had been knocked from the mantelpiece.
I stopped in front of one.
It showed my father standing beside his old machine shop, with me on one side and Claire on the other. We were all smiling.
On the back, my father had written a message in blue ink.
To my children: Build something worth leaving behind. And never let money make you strangers.
I turned the photograph over in my hands.
Then I noticed the empty frame beside it.
A picture of my father and Claire had been removed from the wall.
Detective Reed came up behind me.
“Did something catch your attention?””
“Someone took this photograph.””
He examined the empty frame.
“Was it valuable?””
“Not financially.””
“Then perhaps it was taken for another reason.””
I stared at the nail still embedded in the wall.
Claire had known about the property.
Claire had possessed the original agreement.
And now someone had taken a photograph of her with our father.
My phone vibrated.
A message from an unknown number appeared.
*Your father didn't lose the property. He gave it away. Ask your sister what she received in exchange.*
I showed the message to Detective Reed.
He read it, then looked at me.
“We need to find Claire before whoever sent this message does.””
I called her immediately.
It rang six times before going to voicemail.
I tried again.
Nothing.
Then a message arrived.
Not from Claire's usual number, but from an unfamiliar phone.
*James, if you want the truth about Dad, come alone to the old machine shop at midnight. Bring the blue folder.*
I stared at the screen.
The old machine shop had been demolished seven years earlier.
But the property remained.
May you like
And somebody wanted me there.
Alone.
