Chapter 9 - WHAT EVELYN BURIED
Evelyn had kept the box for eighteen years.
Not because she planned to use it.
Because she was afraid to destroy it.
There were crimes you reported.
There were crimes you survived.
And then there were men like Gideon Voss, who made you wonder whether telling the truth would only create another victim.
Detective Morales stood beside Evelyn in the basement of Calloway Place.
Dust hung in the flashlight beams.
The building had been empty for almost a decade.
Old pipes ran along the ceiling.
Boxes lined the walls.
“Where?” Morales asked.
Evelyn pointed toward an old steel cabinet.
“Behind that.”
Two officers moved it.
There was a patch of newer brick.
Morales looked at Evelyn.
“You sealed it in?”
“My husband did.”
“When?”
“2009.”
“Why didn’t you turn it over to police?”
Evelyn gave her a tired look.
“We tried.”
Morales frowned.
“What happened?”
“The detective assigned to Miriam’s complaint resigned two weeks later and took a job with Voss Security.”
Morales said nothing.
“The assistant prosecutor lost the copies.”
“You’re saying evidence disappeared?”
“I’m saying we learned to stop being surprised.”
An officer broke through the brick.
Behind it was a plastic storage container.
Inside were files.
Bank records.
Cassette tapes.
Photographs.
And letters.
One envelope had Evelyn’s name on it.
She recognized Miriam’s handwriting.
Her knees weakened.
“I’ve never seen that.”
Morales put on gloves.
“You want me to open it?”
Evelyn nodded.
Inside were four handwritten pages.
Morales read silently.
Then looked at Evelyn.
“What?”
Morales handed her the letter.
Evelyn read.
Halfway down the first page, the basement seemed to tilt.
Evelyn—
If something happens to me, take Natalie and keep her away from Gideon.
He knows I gave you the records.
He does not know Natalie is his.
Do not tell him.
He will not love her. He will own her.
There was more.
A lot more.
Miriam described threats.
Payments.
A warehouse fire Gideon had allegedly ordered to force a property owner into bankruptcy.
A man badly burned.
A witness paid to leave the state.
And then, near the bottom of page three:
I made one mistake. I told Grant’s father, Thomas, where I hid the originals.
Evelyn stopped.
“What?”
Morales looked over.
“Thomas knew?”
“I thought I was the only one.”
“Maybe he moved them here.”
“No.”
Evelyn stared at the letter.
“He told Gideon.”
Morales frowned.
“What makes you say that?”
“Because two months after Miriam disappeared, Thomas suddenly had enough money to save our company.”
Silence.
The words hurt more once they were spoken.
Morales asked quietly, “You think your husband took money from Voss?”
Evelyn sat on a wooden crate.
“I thought Thomas borrowed from his brother.”
“Did you ever verify it?”
“No.”
Footsteps sounded on the stairs.
Ruiz appeared.
“Detective.”
“What?”
“We found something upstairs.”
They followed him to an old office.
Behind a loose panel beneath a built-in desk was a safe.
Inside were more papers.
A ledger.
And a signed agreement between Thomas Calloway and Gideon Voss.
Evelyn read the first paragraph.
Her hands went numb.
Thomas had agreed to sell Voss an option on Calloway Place.
The deal never closed.
But the final clause was worse.
If Thomas died before transfer, the option passed through his estate to his son, Grant.
Morales looked at Evelyn.
“That’s why Voss paid Grant.”
Evelyn nodded slowly.
“But Grant doesn’t own the property.”
“You do.”
“Yes.”
“So Voss needed you to sign.”
“Yes.”
Morales’s phone buzzed.
She checked it.
Her eyes hardened.
“What now?”
“Grant’s attorney just called.”
“And?”
“Grant wants a deal.”
Evelyn stood.
“For what?”
May you like
Morales looked at her.
“He says he can prove Gideon Voss ordered a murder.”
