Chapter 6 - THE MAN BEHIND MY FATHER
Police should have been our first call.
Instead, my father said, “No.”
I stared at him.
“You heard Victor.”
“That’s exactly why.”
“You want to trust him?”
“I want to know what he knows.”
Evelyn stood by the door.
“I’m calling the police.”
My father blocked her.
She shoved his arm away.
“Move.”
“If Victor is telling the truth, calling local police could warn whoever he’s afraid of.”
I almost laughed.
“You expect me to take strategy advice from you?”
“No.”
His face tightened.
“But I expect you to use your head.”
Ethan stepped in.
“He’s not completely wrong.”
Natalie looked at him.
“You’re siding with Richard?”
“I’m siding with not announcing ourselves before we know who’s involved.”
I hated that it made sense.
My father called Victor back.
No answer.
Again.
Nothing.
Then a text came through.
OLD MILL HOUSE. 4 P.M. ALONE.
Evelyn laughed.
“Absolutely not.”
My father looked at me.
“He means me.”
“I’m going.”
“No.”
“You don’t get to decide that anymore.”
At 3:55, we parked half a mile from the old mill property.
Nobody went alone.
My father hated it.
Too bad.
Ethan came with me.
Natalie stayed in the car with Evelyn.
We entered through a broken side door.
The building smelled like dust and wet wood.
“Victor?” my father called.
Nothing.
Then we heard coughing.
We followed it upstairs.
Victor Hale sat against a wall.
His white shirt was soaked with blood.
“Jesus Christ.”
We ran to him.
His eyes found my father.
“Richard.”
“Who did this?”
Victor gave a weak laugh.
“The past.”
I crouched.
“Who ordered the crash?”
His eyes shifted to me.
“You look like her.”
“Who?”
“Your mother.”
“Victor.”
My father’s voice broke.
“Tell us.”
Victor coughed.
“Your father.”
I stared at Richard.
My father stepped back.
“No.”
Victor shook his head.
“Not you.”
He looked at my father.
“Your father.”
My grandfather.
Charles Whitmore.
Dead eleven years.
The man who had built the family empire.
The man whose portrait hung in our company headquarters.
My father whispered, “That’s impossible.”
Victor closed his eyes.
“He hated Evelyn.”
She was poor.
Working-class.
Not connected.
Not suitable for the Whitmore name.
I knew the stories.
My grandfather had refused to attend my parents’ small courthouse wedding.
Victor continued.
“He wanted her gone.”
My father crouched beside him.
“You knew?”
“After.”
“How long after?”
“A week.”
“And you said nothing?”
Victor looked at him.
“You wanted custody.”
My father’s face twisted.
“You used my son’s accident?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“To clean up Charles’s mess.”
My stomach turned.
This wasn’t one lie.
It was an entire machine.
Victor whispered, “Charles paid Marcus to scare Evelyn. When the crash nearly killed Daniel, he panicked. He told me to protect the family.”
“And Reeves?”
“I paid him.”
Evelyn had been right.
My father whispered, “You told me the evaluation was legitimate.”
“I told you what you wanted to hear.”
That sentence destroyed him.
Richard sat back on his heels.
Victor reached into his jacket.
“Safe-deposit key.”
I took it.
“Bank?”
“Mercer Federal.”
“What’s inside?”
“Everything.”
Footsteps sounded below us.
Ethan froze.
“Someone’s here.”
Victor’s eyes widened.
“Run.”
A loud crack exploded through the building.
Wood splintered above my head.
Gunshot.
My father grabbed me.
“Down!”
Another shot.
Ethan dragged Victor behind an old machine.
I looked toward the stairs.
A shadow moved.
Then disappeared.
My phone buzzed.
Natalie.
I answered.
Her voice came out terrified.
“Daniel, somebody smashed the car window.”
My blood froze.
“Where are you?”
“We ran.”
“Where’s my mother?”
A pause.
May you like
Then Natalie started crying.
“She’s gone.”
