Chapter 10 - Aunt June Had Been Lying to Me Longer Than Anyone
I did not confront June in front of Lila.
That required more self-control than anything I had done since Christmas morning.
I waited until Rebecca took Lila upstairs for a bath.
Then I walked into the kitchen.
June was washing hot chocolate mugs.
I closed the door.
She heard it.
Turned.
Saw my face.
And knew.
She slowly put down the mug.
“Who told you?”
That question confirmed everything.
“Naomi.”
June closed her eyes.
“Adrian.”
“Your name was Miriam Cross.”
“Yes.”
“You worked for the federal government.”
“Yes.”
“You knew Aaron Vale.”
Her composure broke.
“Yes.”
“You investigated my family.”
“I helped investigate financial crimes connected to Cole Ridge vendors.”
“My father knew you?”
“Yes.”
“Before you married Uncle David?”
“Yes.”
“Before you became Aunt June?”
A tiny smile appeared.
“I was always your aunt.”
“You know what I mean.”
She did.
June dried her hands.
Then sat down.
“My birth name is Miriam June Cross.”
“When I married your mother’s brother, David Bennett—”
“Mom doesn’t have a brother.”
“Half-brother.”
I stared at her.
“What?”
She gave a sad laugh.
“You’re discovering why your grandfather hated family trees.”
I sat across from her.
“Start from the beginning.”
“Aaron Vale and I worked financial investigations.”
“He was field.”
“I was analysis.”
“We started seeing recurring payments linked to Cole-associated companies.”
“Robert contacted us independently.”
“Dad.”
“Yes.”
“He suspected internal theft.”
“He gave Aaron records.”
“Evelyn realized.”
“How?”
“I don’t know.”
“Malcolm probably.”
“What happened to Aaron?”
June’s face changed.
“I still don’t know.”
“You expect me to believe that?”
“I spent twelve years trying to find out.”
I stared.
“You’ve been investigating this whole time?”
“Quietly.”
“Why marry into the family?”
Her eyes flashed.
“I did not marry David because of an investigation.”
“I loved him.”
“We met before Robert contacted Aaron.”
“After Aaron disappeared, I wanted out.”
“David asked me to marry him.”
“I took his surname.”
“Used my middle name.”
“And stopped being Miriam Cross professionally.”
“Convenient.”
“Safe.”
“Same thing then.”
“Did Mom know?”
“Eventually.”
“Did Dad?”
“Yes.”
“Granddad?”
“Yes.”
“Sophie?”
June looked down.
“Yes.”
That hurt more.
“My wife knew who you were.”
“She found out.”
“And didn’t tell me.”
“She was trying to protect you.”
I stood.
“Everybody keeps saying that.”
“Dad protected me.”
“Granddad protected me.”
“Sophie protected me.”
“You protected me.”
“You know what protection has gotten me?”
“My father is dead.”
“My wife is dead.”
“My daughter is being threatened.”
“And I have no idea which person at my own dinner table has spent half my life lying.”
June began crying.
I did not stop.
“Did you know Sophie’s car was sabotaged?”
“No.”
“Did you know she was in danger?”
“Yes.”
The word hit me.
“How much?”
“She told me Evelyn was following her.”
“And you let her drive away?”
“I begged her to go to police.”
“She wanted evidence.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because Sophie made me promise.”
“Stop blaming dead people for your choices.”
June flinched.
Good.
I wanted someone else to hurt.
For a few seconds.
Then I hated myself for wanting it.
I turned away.
June spoke quietly.
“The morning Sophie died, she called me.”
I froze.
“You never told me that.”
“No.”
“What did she say?”
“That she had proof.”
“What proof?”
“She wouldn’t say over the phone.”
“She said she was meeting someone.”
“Miriam?”
“No.”
“Someone else.”
“Who?”
“She said, ‘If he still has Robert’s copy, this ends today.’”
“He?”
June nodded.
“Who was she meeting?”
“I don’t know.”
“Did she say where?”
“No.”
“Then why were you in her letter?”
“Because she gave me the adoption evidence weeks earlier.”
I rubbed my face.
“What happened to Aaron Vale?”
June looked toward the door.
“He was supposed to meet me in Durango.”
“Twelve years ago.”
“He never arrived.”
“His car was found?”
“Yes.”
“Blood?”
“No.”
“Signs of violence?”
“No.”
“Did he run?”
“I don’t believe so.”
“Why?”
“Because he left something for me.”
“What?”
“A voicemail.”
She pulled out her phone.
“Not this phone.”
“I transferred the recording for years.”
She found a file.
Played it.
A man’s voice.
Tense.
“Miriam, they know about Robert.”
“I’m moving the records.”
“Do not go home.”
“Do not contact Evelyn.”
“And if I don’t call you by noon tomorrow, find Henry.”
The message ended.
My grandfather.
Again.
“Did you find him?”
“Yes.”
“What did he say?”
“That he would protect me.”
“Did he?”
“He gave me a new identity inside the family.”
I stared.
“What?”
“David already knew who I was.”
“Henry arranged for old public references to Miriam Cross to disappear from easy searches.”
“Not illegally.”
“He used lawyers.”
“Privacy services.”
“Marriage records.”
“After enough years, Miriam Cross essentially vanished.”
“And June Bennett remained.”
My head hurt.
“So Granddad helped hide a federal analyst inside his own family.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because he believed Evelyn was capable of destroying anyone tied to Robert’s investigation.”
I sat again.
“Did Granddad think Mom killed Dad?”
June’s face went pale.
“He never said it directly.”
“That isn’t an answer.”
“He had Robert’s medical records reviewed privately.”
“And?”
“Robert had a congenital heart abnormality.”
“The heart attack was medically plausible.”
Relief tried to enter.
June stopped it.
“But Henry also discovered Robert had unusually high levels of a stimulant medication in his blood.”
My stomach turned.
“What medication?”
“One he had not been prescribed.”
“Could it cause a heart attack?”
“In someone with his condition?”
“Yes.”
“Who gave it to him?”
“We never proved anyone did.”
“What did Dad eat before he died?”
“Lunch.”
“With who?”
June said nothing.
My body went cold.
“With Mom?”
“No.”
“Travis?”
“No.”
“Malcolm?”
“Yes.”
I stared at her.
My father died during lunch with Malcolm Pierce.
That detail had somehow vanished from family history.
“Why didn’t anyone tell me?”
“You were nineteen.”
“I’m thirty-eight now.”
“I know.”
Before I could answer, the doorbell rang.
Every person in the house froze.
I checked the camera.
Detective Ruiz.
I opened the door.
She entered with another officer.
Her expression told me something had changed.
“We executed a search warrant on Northstar’s registered records.”
“What did you find?”
“A hidden corporate archive.”
“Emails.”
“Contracts.”
“Banking instructions.”
“Who owned it?”
She looked at June.
“Originally?”
“Helen Baird.”
June closed her eyes.
Ruiz continued.
“Later control transferred to Evelyn Cole.”
“How long ago?”
“Thirteen years.”
One year before Dad died.
“And the automotive payment?”
“Authorized by an account administrator using Helen’s credentials.”
“Could Evelyn use them?”
“Yes.”
“So could Malcolm.”
“Possibly.”
“What about Travis?”
“No evidence yet.”
I thought of the garage footage.
“Then why was Travis under Sophie’s hood?”
Ruiz nodded.
“We asked him through counsel.”
“What did he say?”
“That Evelyn told him Sophie had hidden confidential documents inside the vehicle and he was checking for them.”
I laughed bitterly.
“Does anyone believe that?”
“We investigate facts.”
“Not belief.”
She looked at June.
“Ms. Bennett, we need to speak with you too.”
“About Aaron Vale.”
June stood.
“Why now?”
Ruiz’s expression changed.
“Because we found him.”
Everything stopped.
June grabbed the table.
“What?”
“Aaron Vale.”
“You found him?”
“Yes.”
“Alive?”
Ruiz hesitated.
“No.”
June sank into the chair.
My anger disappeared.
She looked suddenly ancient.
“Where?”
“Utah.”
“A rural property connected to an inactive Northstar subsidiary.”
Her hands began shaking.
“When?”
“Remains were discovered this afternoon.”
“How long has he been dead?”
“We need forensic confirmation.”
“But likely more than a decade.”
June covered her face.
I put my hand on her shoulder without thinking.
She leaned against me and sobbed.
Ruiz waited.
Then she said:
“There was something buried with him.”
June looked up.
“What?”
“A waterproof document tube.”
My pulse rose.
“Records?”
“Some.”
“What kind?”
Ruiz looked directly at me.
“A signed affidavit from Robert Cole.”
My father.
“About what?”
“Northstar.”
“Evelyn.”
“Malcolm.”
“And a meeting scheduled for the day Robert died.”
My throat closed.
“With Malcolm?”
“Yes.”
May you like
Ruiz’s next sentence left no room for hope.
“Your father wrote that if anything happened to him after that lunch, investigators should treat Malcolm Pierce as the first suspect.”
