Chapter 9
I hung up on Ryan.
Daniel didn’t move.
Neither did I.
Detective Bell looked between us.
“Mr. Carter, I think we need to talk.”
Daniel nodded slowly.
Claire said, “Not without counsel.”
“I don’t need—”
“Yes,” she snapped. “You do.”
I stood.
“Was Ryan telling the truth?”
Daniel looked at me.
“About the photograph?”
“Yes.”
“There could be a photograph.”
My voice rose.
“That isn’t an answer.”
“I saw your father that night.”
The words broke something.
“You said you were driving to him.”
“I was.”
“You said you got there after he called.”
“I did.”
“Then why were you standing beside his car?”
“Because he hadn’t crashed yet.”
Silence.
I could hear my own heartbeat.
Detective Bell said, “Walk us through the timeline.”
Claire protested.
Daniel ignored her.
“Your father called me at ten-forty.”
I remembered the police report.
The crash had occurred around eleven-twenty.
“I reached the estate at ten-fifty-eight,” Daniel continued.
“He was outside. Angry. Rebecca was there.”
“You knew she was there?”
“Yes.”
“You lied.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because he made me promise.”
I laughed bitterly.
“Dad made everybody promise everything except to tell me the truth.”
Daniel flinched.
“What happened?”
“He and Rebecca had found financial records connected to Grandfather.”
“The ledgers?”
“Yes.”
“They were arguing about what to do.”
“Why were you involved?”
“Your father trusted me.”
“Apparently not enough.”
He swallowed.
“Rebecca wanted to go public immediately. Your father wanted to verify everything first.”
“And you?”
“I agreed with him.”
“What happened next?”
“A car came up the road.”
Daniel’s face changed as he remembered.
“Your father panicked.”
“Who was in the car?”
“I couldn’t see.”
“Then?”
“He put the red case in his car and told Rebecca to leave through the back path.”
“Why?”
“He thought someone had followed her.”
Detective Bell interrupted.
“Did you see the driver?”
“No.”
“Vehicle?”
“Black SUV.”
I said, “And Dad?”
“He told me to go home.”
“You left?”
“I drove down the road.”
“That’s where the photograph was taken?”
“Probably.”
“Then how did Dad crash?”
Daniel looked at the floor.
“I don’t know.”
I laughed once.
“You expect me to believe that?”
“I came back.”
“When?”
“After he called again.”
My skin prickled.
“There was a second call?”
“Yes.”
“What did he say?”
Daniel closed his eyes.
“He said, ‘I was wrong. It’s bigger than Rebecca thought.’”
I waited.
“And?”
“Then I heard another voice.”
“Whose?”
“I couldn’t tell.”
“Male? Female?”
“Male.”
Detective Bell wrote something.
“What words?”
Daniel’s jaw tightened.
“He said, ‘Give me the case.’”
Cold spread through me.
“Then?”
“The line disconnected.”
“You called police?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“I drove back.”
Anger exploded through me.
“You wasted time?”
“I was twenty-three, Emily!”
“And Dad died!”
His face crumpled.
“I know.”
That stopped me.
Daniel sat down hard.
“When I reached the curve, his car was already through the guardrail.”
His voice broke.
“I climbed down. I called 911. I tried to get to him.”
I remembered the old newspaper photos.
Daniel at the funeral.
Pale.
Silent.
I had thought it was grief.
Maybe it had been guilt.
“Why did you lie to police?”
“Because the red case was gone.”
“What?”
“When I reached the car, it wasn’t there.”
Detective Bell leaned forward.
“Was anything else missing?”
“His phone.”
Bell looked interested.
“The report says the phone was never recovered.”
Daniel nodded.
“Someone got there before me.”
“Or you took it,” I said.
He looked wounded.
“I didn’t.”
“You lied for three years.”
“To protect you.”
“Stop saying that!”
My voice echoed through the office.
“Everyone destroys my trust and calls it protection.”
No one answered.
Then Detective Bell’s phone rang.
He stepped away.
I stared at Daniel.
“Who did you think killed him?”
“I didn’t know he was killed.”
“You suspected.”
“Yes.”
“Who?”
He hesitated.
“Grandfather had powerful enemies.”
“Our grandfather was eighty and dying.”
“He still controlled people.”
“Who else?”
Daniel looked toward the door.
“Rebecca.”
I stared.
“You think she killed her brother?”
“I thought it was possible.”
“Why?”
“Because she disappeared after the crash.”
Before I could answer, Detective Bell returned.
His expression was grim.
“The officers reached the cottage.”
I stood.
“Rebecca?”
“Gone.”
“Diane?”
“Gone.”
“Ryan?”
“No sign.”
I felt sick.
Bell continued.
“But they found evidence someone had been there recently.”
“What evidence?”
“A chair matching the photograph.”
“And?”
He looked directly at me.
“Blood on the floor.”
My knees weakened.
“Whose?”
“We don’t know yet.”
Then his phone buzzed again.
He read the message.
His face tightened.
“What?”
“A vehicle was found abandoned five miles from the cottage.”
“Diane’s?”
“No.”
He turned the screen toward me.
May you like
I recognized the license plate immediately.
Ryan’s car.
