Chapter 5 - The Woman Behind The Plan
The anonymous message changed our strategy.
Elaine brought in a private investigator named Raymond Cole.
Raymond was sixty-one, former state police, and looked like a man who had spent his career waiting for other people to underestimate him.
He studied the photograph.
"Metadata stripped."
"Meaning?"
"Whoever sent it knows enough to hide location data."
"Can you trace the number?"
"Disposable."
I wasn't surprised.
"What about the table?"
He zoomed in.
Dark wood.
A scratch near the corner.
Nothing distinctive.
Elaine folded her arms.
"Harold received another anonymous package yesterday."
Raymond looked at me.
"Same person?"
"No idea."
"What was inside?"
"Jason's guardianship documents."
He wrote something down.
"Somebody close to them wants you informed."
"Why not come forward?"
"Fear."
"Of Jason?"
Raymond looked at the photograph.
"Maybe not."
We drove to my house together.
Jason had already called police about the burglary.
The responding officer stood in the hallway.
Jason looked furious when he saw Elaine.
His expression became worse when he noticed Raymond.
"Who's he?"
"Friend."
Raymond smiled pleasantly.
Jason looked at me.
"Did you take my laptop?"
"No."
"Did she?"
He pointed at Elaine.
"No."
"You're lying."
The officer intervened.
"Mr. Turner, let's keep this calm."
Jason paced toward the den.
His desk drawers had been opened.
Papers covered the floor.
The window wasn't broken.
No exterior door showed forced entry.
Raymond noticed immediately.
"Who has keys?"
Jason glared at him.
"Why?"
"Curious."
"Me, Vanessa, my father."
"Anyone else?"
Jason hesitated.
"Maybe Lucas."
There it was.
"Vanessa's brother?" Raymond asked.
"Yes."
"Why does he have a key?"
"Sometimes he stops by."
I looked at Jason.
"He has a key to my house?"
Jason ignored me.
The officer wrote it down.
"Where's your wife?"
"I don't know."
That surprised me.
"When did you last see her?"
"This morning."
"What time?"
"Around seven."
"What was her mood?"
Jason looked toward me.
"Why is everyone interrogating me?"
Because you're surrounded by your own lies, I thought.
But I said nothing.
The officer completed his report and left.
Jason followed me toward the kitchen.
"We need to talk."
"Then talk."
"Privately."
"Anything you say to me can be said in front of my lawyer."
His jaw clenched.
"Dad."
"No."
"You don't understand what's happening."
"That's the first honest thing you've said."
He lowered his voice.
"Vanessa is missing."
"Missing?"
"She's not answering."
"Maybe she went shopping."
"Her clothes are gone."
That caught my attention.
"How many?"
"Suitcases."
Raymond and Elaine exchanged a look.
Jason continued.
"Her passport is gone."
"What about Lucas?"
"Not answering."
"Interesting."
"Dad, this is serious."
"Yes."
"I think Vanessa set me up."
I almost laughed.
Instead, I studied his face.
He looked frightened.
Really frightened.
"Set you up for what?"
"The house."
"You mean stealing it?"
"I wasn't stealing anything."
"Be careful."
Elaine's voice was quiet.
"You're speaking in front of counsel."
Jason looked at her.
"Fine."
He rubbed his forehead.
"Vanessa told me the paperwork was legal."
"The forged power of attorney?"
His eyes jumped to mine.
Too late.
"You knew?" I asked.
He didn't answer.
"Jason."
"I knew there was a power of attorney."
"Did you know my signature was forged?"
"No."
His thumb rubbed against his finger.
Liar.
"You expect me to believe that?"
"Vanessa said you signed papers after surgery."
"I didn't."
"I know that now."
"When did you find out?"
"This morning."
"Convenient."
He stepped closer.
"Dad, she took my laptop because everything is on it."
"Everything about what?"
"The deal."
"What deal?"
He looked at Elaine.
She waited.
Finally, he exhaled.
"Lucas approached us last year."
"About my property?"
"About the whole block."
"And you said yes."
"Not immediately."
"How long did your moral resistance last?"
He winced.
"Dad."
"How long?"
"A few weeks."
"Impressive."
"It wasn't supposed to hurt you."
I stared at him.
"You were selling my home without telling me."
"You'd get paid."
"Half its value."
"You didn't need all of it."
There it was.
Not shame.
Not remorse.
Entitlement.
I felt something inside me close permanently.
Jason continued.
"Lucas said the project wouldn't happen without this parcel."
"So you decided to help."
"He offered us a commission."
"$375,000."
His face changed.
"You know about that."
"I know a surprising amount for a man with Alzheimer's."
He looked away.
Elaine almost smiled.
"Did you sign the guardianship petition voluntarily?" she asked.
Jason's eyes hardened.
"Yes."
"Why?"
"Vanessa said Dad would fight the sale because he's emotionally attached to the house."
"I am emotionally attached to not being robbed."
Jason ignored me.
"She said the court could appoint me temporarily, we'd complete the sale, and then I'd withdraw."
I stared at my son.
He said it as though he were explaining paperwork.
"You were going to have me declared incompetent long enough to sell my house."
"It wasn't like that."
"It is exactly like that."
"No one was putting you in a facility."
The room went silent.
I hadn't mentioned a facility.
Neither had Elaine.
Raymond's pen stopped moving.
"What facility?" I asked.
Jason froze.
"Nothing."
"What facility?"
"Dad—"
"Say it."
He closed his eyes.
"Vanessa looked at a few places."
My hands became cold.
"Places."
"Retirement communities."
"For me."
"Only as a possibility."
"While you sold my home."
"If the court thought—"
I slammed my palm against the counter.
Not hard.
But enough.
Jason flinched.
For once, I didn't care whether anyone thought it looked angry.
"Your mother spent thirty-seven years in this house."
I pointed toward the hallway.
"I held her hand in that bedroom while she died."
Jason's eyes lowered.
"And you were going to put me in a facility so you could collect a commission."
"It wasn't my idea."
"No."
My voice became quieter.
"You merely agreed."
That was worse.
Raymond broke the silence.
"Who hired Dr. Keene?"
Jason looked at him.
"Vanessa."
"You ever meet him?"
"Once."
"Did Harold?"
"No."
"Then how did Dr. Keene diagnose him?"
Jason swallowed.
"I don't know."
Raymond looked at Elaine.
That answer was enough.
My phone buzzed.
Another anonymous message.
This time it contained an address.
A motel near the interstate.
Room 214.
And two words.
VANESSA'S THERE.
Raymond saw it.
He checked his watch.
"I'll handle this."
Jason grabbed his coat.
"I'm coming."
"No," Raymond said.
"She's my wife."
"Then you're exactly the person who shouldn't."
Twenty-five minutes later, Raymond called us.
Vanessa wasn't in Room 214.
But somebody had been.
The room was empty except for one thing.
A trash bag filled with shredded paper.
Hotel staff had stopped housekeeping from removing it after Raymond showed identification and explained potential litigation.
Most of the pages were destroyed beyond use.
One wasn't.
A strip of paper carried three words.
STEPHEN KEENE — PAYMENT.
Another showed NORTH RIDGE.
A third had my name.
And at the bottom of the bag, Raymond found a pharmacy envelope.
The name printed on it wasn't Vanessa Turner.
It belonged to Rebecca Reed.
Lucas's wife.
When Raymond called her, Rebecca answered on the first ring.
She was crying.
She said Lucas had disappeared too.
Then she told us something none of us expected.
Vanessa and Lucas weren't simply siblings working together.
For the past eight months, they had been hiding money from both families.
May you like
And Rebecca believed they were preparing to leave the country.
Together.
