Chapter 6 - THE MAN BEHIND THE PLANI moved Emily that night.
Not because the police told me to.
Because I wasn’t taking chances.
Marcus owned a cabin outside Lake Geneva that nobody connected to me publicly.
He drove Emily there with his wife while I remained behind with David.
Two private security officers followed them.
I told Emily we were having an adventure.
She knew I was lying.
“Is somebody mad at us?”
“Yes.”
“Because I showed you the note?”
That question nearly broke me.
“No. Never think that.”
“If I didn’t show you, would everything be okay?”
I knelt in front of her.
“No. If you didn’t show me, everything would have looked okay while something bad was happening underneath.”
She thought about that.
“So telling was good?”
“Telling was brave.”
She hugged me.
Then she left.
Now I could fight.
Detective Lane traced the threatening phone call through a prepaid device.
The phone had been activated near one of Charles Bennett’s rental properties.
Police obtained a warrant.
The property was empty.
But inside they found shredded documents.
Burner phones.
A damaged laptop.
And a locked steel cabinet.
The cabinet contained copies of financial records dating back fourteen years.
Charles hadn’t just helped Rebecca’s family.
He had been stealing with them.
Pemberton Strategic.
Harbor Ridge.
Northcrest.
Different names.
Same people.
Millions routed through shell companies.
Nathan Dawson’s company had been one target.
Mine was another.
David studied the records.
“This is bigger than marriage fraud.”
“How much?”
“Potentially eight figures.”
The scheme appeared simple.
Charles identified wealthy widowers, divorced executives, and family-controlled businesses through charity networks.
Patricia created consulting companies.
Rebecca became personally close to selected targets when useful.
Sometimes romance was involved.
Sometimes business introductions.
They gained access.
Then vendor contracts appeared.
Property transfers.
Trust amendments.
Power-of-attorney documents.
Nathan had discovered the system before his wedding.
Then Nathan died.
I stared at his photograph in Claire’s file.
A man I had never met.
A father who had stood where I almost stood.
“He tried to stop them.”
Claire nodded.
“And they ruined him.”
“Maybe killed him.”
She looked at me.
“Maybe.”
We still lacked proof.
Then Rebecca called me.
I almost didn’t answer.
David nodded.
“Put it on speaker.”
Her voice sounded different.
Tired.
“Daniel.”
“What?”
“Where is Emily?”
“Safe.”
“You need to leave.”
I looked at David.
“Leave where?”
“Chicago.”
“For how long?”
“Just go.”
“Why?”
Silence.
Then:
“Charles is not stable.”
I laughed bitterly.
“You expect me to trust you?”
“No.”
At least that answer was truthful.
“Then tell me everything.”
“I can’t.”
“Rebecca, someone sent me a picture of my daughter with a target drawn over her face.”
Her breath caught.
“What?”
“You heard me.”
“I didn’t know.”
“Why would Charles threaten Emily?”
“He wouldn’t.”
“Then who?”
Another pause.
“My mother.”
I stared at the phone.
Claire stopped breathing.
“You’re saying Patricia sent it?”
“I don’t know. Maybe.”
“You’ve spent two years helping these people.”
“I never agreed to hurt anyone.”
“Tell that to Nathan.”
“I didn’t kill Nathan!”
The panic in her voice sounded genuine.
“Did Charles?”
“I don’t know.”
“Did your mother?”
“I don’t know!”
Rebecca began crying.
Not elegant bridal tears.
Ugly, frightened sobs.
“I was twenty-six when Nathan died. My mother told me Charles had handled everything. I didn’t ask what that meant.”
I felt sick.
“You didn’t ask because you didn’t want to know.”
“Yes.”
The admission hung between us.
“What about me?”
Rebecca whispered:
“You were supposed to be different.”
“Different how?”
“I loved you.”
“No.”
“I did.”
“You tried to take my daughter’s home.”
“I wanted security.”
“You forged boarding-school paperwork.”
“Charles did that.”
“You wrote the note.”
Silence.
Yes.
That part belonged to her.
“I hated always coming second.”
“To a child.”
“To Laura.”
Finally.
The truth beneath the truth.
“You were competing with a dead woman.”
“You still loved her.”
“She was my wife.”
“And I was supposed to live in her house, raise her daughter, look at her pictures—”
“My daughter is not an extension of Laura.”
Rebecca started crying again.
“I know.”
“No. You don’t.”
“I know now.”
I almost ended the call.
Then she said:
“Charles keeps copies.”
“Of what?”
“Everything.”
“Where?”
“His mother’s old house.”
Detective Lane leaned forward.
“Address?”
Rebecca gave it.
An abandoned farmhouse near Rockford.
“Why tell me now?”
“Because Charles knows my mother is talking to federal investigators.”
I looked at David.
We hadn’t known that.
“She flipped?”
“Not officially. But she’s scared.”
“Of prison?”
“Of Charles.”
Rebecca lowered her voice.
“He never needed us as much as Mom thought he did.”
“Explain.”
“He used her companies to hide money. He used me to get close to people. But Nathan found something worse.”
“What?”
“I don’t know exactly.”
“Stop lying.”
“I’m not!”
She inhaled shakily.
“Nathan told me Charles had been creating accidents before we ever met him.”
My stomach turned.
“Accidents?”
“Insurance fraud. Business partners. People who threatened him.”
Claire looked physically ill.
“What did Nathan know about his own car?”
“I don’t know.”
“Rebecca.”
“I swear.”
Then we heard pounding through the phone.
Rebecca stopped.
“What was that?” I asked.
No answer.
More pounding.
A door opening.
Rebecca whispered:
“Oh God.”
A man spoke in the background.
“You always did talk too much.”
Charles.
David immediately signaled Detective Lane.
Rebecca screamed.
The phone hit the floor.
Then Charles’s voice came through clearly.
“You should have married him when you had the chance.”
The call disconnected.
Police reached Rebecca’s apartment eleven minutes later.
She was gone.
Blood was found near the kitchen.
Not much.
But enough.
A security camera showed Charles forcing Rebecca into a gray SUV.
For the first time since the chapel, anger stopped being enough.
Now we were racing against something worse.
Charles had Rebecca.
He had evidence connecting him to Nathan.
And he knew where Emily usually lived.
Detective Lane ordered officers to the farmhouse Rebecca had named.
They found it empty.
But beneath the basement floor was a hidden room.
Inside were files.
Photographs.
Insurance policies.
Corporate records.
And one small plastic evidence bag.
Claire recognized the object inside immediately.
Nathan’s wedding ring.
It had never been recovered after the crash.
She sank into a chair.
Police photographed everything.
Then an officer called from the far corner.
“Detective?”
Lane approached.
Pinned to a corkboard was a map.
Several properties were circled.
My home.
My office.
Marcus’s house.
And a cabin beside Lake Geneva.
The cabin where Emily was hiding.
My phone rang.
Marcus.
I answered.
May you like
He didn’t say hello.
“Daniel, somebody’s outside.”
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