Chapter 13 - MARK DALTON
Mark Dalton lived forty minutes away.
Rachel insisted on coming.
So did Brenda.
“I am not letting you walk into some man’s house after everything you just learned,” Brenda said.
We didn’t argue with her.
Mark lived in a neat one-story house at the end of a quiet street.
He answered after the third knock.
He was around sixty.
Gray hair.
Wire glasses.
The moment he saw me, his face changed.
“Diane.”
“You know me?”
“I knew Robert.”
“I know.”
He looked past me at Rachel and Brenda.
“You’d better come in.”
His living room was filled with books and old photographs.
One photo stopped me.
Robert and Mark standing beside a fishing boat.
I had taken that picture fifteen years earlier.
“You were friends.”
“Once.”
“What happened?”
Mark looked uncomfortable.
“Harrison.”
Of course.
We sat.
I handed him a copy of Robert’s note.
He read it.
Then removed his glasses.
“I wondered if you ever found this.”
“No.”
“He gave me a copy.”
“Why didn’t you give it to me?”
His face filled with shame.
“I tried.”
I stared.
“When?”
“The week after Robert died.”
“What happened?”
“Harrison came to me first.”
My blood ran cold.
“He said you were barely functioning. Said Robert’s papers were confusing you.”
“That is not an answer.”
“I know.”
“What did he ask you to do?”
“Wait.”
I stood.
“You let my son steal eighty-three thousand dollars from me because he asked you to wait?”
“No.”
Mark raised both hands.
“I did not know about the brokerage transfer then.”
“When did you know?”
“A few months later.”
“And you still said nothing.”
He looked down.
“I made a mistake.”
“You made six years of mistakes.”
Rachel stepped in.
“Mr. Dalton, what is your relationship with Northpoint Capital Partners?”
Mark’s expression changed immediately.
“I introduced Harrison to someone who claimed to represent them.”
“Who?”
“A man named Calvin Reed.”
“Did you invest?”
“Yes.”
“How much?”
“Thirty thousand.”
“Did you lose it?”
He nodded.
“Everything.”
I sat back down.
“So Northpoint was a scam.”
“That’s what it looks like.”
“You brought my son into it.”
“Yes.”
“Knowing he had financial problems?”
“I didn’t know the extent.”
“But you knew he had stolen from his father.”
Mark looked ashamed.
“Yes.”
I wanted to hate him.
But he looked broken enough already.
Rachel asked:
“Do you still have Robert’s copy?”
Mark stood.
“I do.”
He disappeared into another room.
Returned with a sealed envelope.
My name was written across the front in Robert’s handwriting.
My hands started shaking.
I opened it.
Inside were copies of bank transactions.
Harrison’s withdrawals.
Credit card charges.
A handwritten timeline.
And a letter.
Diane,
I wanted to tell you, but I kept hoping our boy would get himself straight.
That was my mistake.
If something happens to me before I can explain, please understand this: loving Harrison does not mean protecting him from every consequence.
Sometimes consequences are the only thing left that can save someone.
I covered my mouth.
Brenda started crying.
Rachel looked away.
I kept reading.
Do not let guilt make decisions for you.
You have spent your life giving.
Make sure nobody mistakes that for permission to take.
At the bottom was a final paragraph.
And one name.
Calvin Reed.
Robert had written:
If Harrison ever mentions Calvin Reed, call the police.
I looked at Mark.
“Why?”
He rubbed his face.
“I don’t know.”
“You knew Robert was worried.”
“Yes.”
“About what?”
“He thought Calvin was running financial scams.”
Rachel leaned forward.
“Did Robert report him?”
“I think he was gathering evidence.”
Before I could ask another question, my phone rang.
Unknown number.
I answered.
“Mrs. Bennett?”
“Yes?”
A man spoke.
“Your son is with me.”
Every muscle in my body froze.
May you like
“Who is this?”
“Calvin Reed.”
