Chapter 5 - The BargainFear does strange things to time.
The anonymous messages had changed the investigation.
He photographed my phone, contacted the department's digital unit, and told Daniel not to respond.
“Could Evelyn have scheduled them?” I asked.
“Possible.”
“You don't believe that.”
Bell didn't answer immediately.
“I believe we shouldn't assume she's acting alone.”
That sentence stayed with me.
Acting alone.
Until then, Evelyn had been the entire threat in my mind.
But the financial records suggested something larger.
Shell companies weren't created accidentally.
Forged invoices weren't paid accidentally.
And nearly two million dollars didn't disappear because one wealthy widow decided to get creative with bookkeeping.
Someone had helped her.
I asked Daniel to bring my personal tablet from home.
Bell objected.
“You should rest.”
“I rest by finding things.”
“That is the least convincing argument I've heard this week.”
“Still true.”
Daniel almost smiled.
Almost.
By nine, I had access to the cloud backups Evelyn apparently hadn't known existed.
I opened the spreadsheet I had been building before the fall.
Vendor.
Date.
Amount.
Approving officer.
Receiving account.
I filtered the suspicious transactions.
One name appeared repeatedly.
Martin Vale.
Daniel leaned closer.
“Uncle Martin?”
Evelyn's younger brother.
Owner of Mercer Building Supply.
A man who wore expensive cowboy boots, collected antique watches, and called every waitress “darlin’” regardless of age.
He had delivered the eulogy at Harold's funeral.
He had also approved forty-seven suspicious invoices.
Daniel shook his head.
“No.”
“Daniel.”
“He and Dad were best friends.”
“Then explain the signatures.”
He stared at the screen.
I showed him.
Martin had approved payments to Blue Ridge Property Consulting.
Evelyn controlled it.
Evelyn had authorized payments to Vale Equipment Leasing.
Martin controlled that.
Money moved back and forth between the two entities before portions disappeared into personal accounts.
Bell looked at the spreadsheet.
“This isn't theft.”
“No.”
“What is it?”
“Embezzlement structured to disguise where the money ended up.”
“Can you prove it?”
“Not yet.”
Bell raised an eyebrow.
“Then that's your favorite phrase?”
“It keeps people from suing me.”
That almost made him smile.
I continued.
“What I can prove is that the transactions are suspicious.”
“Enough for a warrant?”
“Ask your prosecutor.”
He did.
By noon, officers were executing searches at Evelyn's house and Martin's company office.
Martin was nowhere to be found.
His assistant claimed he had left for Charleston the previous evening.
His phone was off.
His wife said she thought he was at work.
That was when Bell officially stopped treating the anonymous message as a possible prank.
At three, he came into my room carrying a sealed evidence envelope.
Inside was a photograph.
It showed the back staircase at my house.
Taken from the tree line.
The date stamp was the day before my fall.
Someone had been watching the house.
“Where did you find this?”
“Evelyn's home office.”
My mouth went dry.
“Anything else?”
“Several photos.”
“Of me?”
“Yes.”
Some showed me leaving for work.
Others showed Daniel.
One showed Denise walking her dog.
One showed me entering a bank.
“What bank?” I asked.
Bell told me.
My stomach dropped.
Three weeks earlier, I had rented a safe-deposit box there.
I had placed a flash drive inside.
A complete copy of every estate file.
I told Bell.
He became instantly alert.
“Who knew?”
“No one.”
“Not your husband?”
“No.”
Daniel looked hurt, but didn't argue.
Bell leaned closer.
“Why put it there?”
“Because my laptop disappeared.”
“What's on it?”
“Everything.”
Bell stood.
“We need to move it.”
“Why?”
“Because if Evelyn knew you went to the bank, somebody else may know why.”
He arranged for two officers to accompany Daniel.
I gave Daniel the key.
He kissed my forehead.
“I'll be back.”
“Don't go anywhere alone.”
He nodded.
Thirty minutes later, Denise arrived.
She carried coffee for herself and a milkshake for me because she knew eating solids with casts was miserable.
“You look terrible,” she said.
“Thank you.”
“I mean better than yesterday.”
“Save yourself.”
She sat.
I looked at her.
“You saved my life.”
Denise's sarcasm disappeared.
“I heard the crutch.”
“If you hadn't—”
“I did.”
Her voice was firm.
“So don't spend your energy living in the version where I didn't.”
I swallowed.
“Why were you there?”
She blinked.
“What?”
“You weren't supposed to come over.”
Denise shifted.
“I saw Evelyn's car.”
Something about her tone made me focus.
“And?”
“She parked behind your garage instead of the driveway.”
“Why?”
“I didn't know. It felt weird.”
“So you came over?”
“Yes.”
“Denise.”
She looked down.
“There was something else.”
“What?”
“I saw her carrying a pillow from her car.”
Cold spread through my chest.
“She brought it?”
“Yes.”
That meant Evelyn hadn't made an impulsive decision.
She hadn't snapped.
She had arrived with the murder weapon.
Bell needed to know.
I reached for my phone awkwardly.
Before I could call, Denise spoke again.
“Rachel, there's something I didn't tell the police.”
I stopped.
“What?”
“When you fell last week, I wasn't inside my house.”
“Where were you?”
“In my backyard.”
“So?”
“I heard voices behind your house.”
“What voices?”
“One was Evelyn.”
My heartbeat accelerated.
“And the other?”
Denise hesitated.
“A man.”
“Martin?”
“I don't know.”
“What did he say?”
“I couldn't hear everything.”
She closed her eyes, remembering.
“But I heard one sentence.”
“What?”
“He said, ‘You should've waited until she had the drive.’”
The drive.
The flash drive.
My blood went cold.
“Did Evelyn answer?”
“Yes.”
“What did she say?”
Denise looked at me.
“She said, ‘After today, she won't need it.’”
I stared at her.
The room seemed to shrink.
They had expected me to die in the fall.
The pillow wasn't Evelyn's first murder attempt.
It was the second.
Then the hospital intercom cracked overhead.
A security announcement.
Bell burst through the door seconds later.
“Where's Daniel?”
“At the bank.”
His face changed.
“Call him.”
I tried.
Straight to voicemail.
Again.
Nothing.
Bell pulled out his phone.
“What happened?”
He didn't answer.
“What happened?”
Bell looked directly at me.
“The officers escorting him were hit by another vehicle three blocks from the bank.”
I stopped breathing.
“Daniel?”
“He wasn't in the patrol car.”
“What?”
“He was driving behind them.”
My voice cracked.
“Where is he?”
Bell's jaw tightened.
“We don't know.”
My phone buzzed.
A photograph appeared from the same unknown number.
Daniel.
Sitting in the driver's seat of his SUV.
Blood along his temple.
Eyes closed.
May you like
Below it was a message.
Bring us the drive, Rachel. Or the next accident won't miss.
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