Chapter 3 - THE HOUSE THEY HAD ALREADY SEARCHED
Nothing valuable appeared missing from Helen’s farmhouse.
The television remained on the wall. Her wedding ring sat inside a dish beside the sink. Forty dollars was still tucked beneath the telephone book.
Whoever entered the house had been searching for information, not money.
Owen photographed muddy footprints near the back door.
“Large work boots,” he said. “Recent.”
Daniel opened the refrigerator.
A carton of milk had expired six days earlier. A plate of fried chicken sat beneath plastic wrap. Helen had prepared it but never taken it to the Sunday market.
Laura had told the family Helen was relaxing in Lexington.
She had been lying before Helen even reached the pit.
Daniel found his mother’s old tablet beneath a stack of church bulletins in the bedroom. The battery was dead, but the charging cable remained plugged into the wall.
When it turned on, the device requested a four-digit code.
Daniel entered the numbers from the locket.
The screen unlocked.
Helen’s email account appeared first.
Hundreds of messages had been marked as read.
Many were from Daniel.
Mom, call me when you wake up.
I can come home next weekend.
Laura said you don’t want me visiting. Is that true?
Please tell me yourself.
None had replies.
Daniel opened the sent folder.
Messages had been sent from Helen’s account telling him not to come home.
Laura takes care of me. You only bring stress.
Stay in Detroit and live your own life.
I don’t need anything from you.
Daniel remembered reading those words alone in his rented apartment after twelve-hour shifts at the auto plant.
They had cut deeply because they sounded like the things Helen might say when she was hurt.
But one detail now stood out.
His mother always ended messages with Love, Mom.
Those emails did not.
Owen leaned over the tablet.
“Can someone else access this account?”
“Laura set it up.”
Daniel opened the security settings.
The recovery email belonged to his sister.
So did the backup phone number.
Another folder contained scanned documents.
Bank statements.
A power-of-attorney form.
A deed for Helen’s seventy-acre farm.
Three months earlier, the deed had been transferred to Carter Ridge Development LLC.
The signature looked like Helen’s.
Daniel opened the company registration.
Carter Ridge Development belonged to Laura and Brian.
“She gave them the farm?” Owen asked.
“Mom would never sell.”
The land had belonged to Daniel’s grandfather. Helen still lived in the house where she raised both children. She had rejected development offers for years.
Daniel noticed a second document.
A contract to sell the acreage to a limestone company for $1.6 million.
The closing date was Friday.
Four days away.
The sale required Helen to appear in person and confirm the transfer.
“She refused to sign the final papers,” Daniel said.
Owen’s jaw hardened.
“That may be the paper she mentioned.”
Headlights swept across the kitchen wall.
A red pickup stopped outside.
Brian stepped onto the porch wearing jeans and a rain jacket.
He saw Owen through the window and stopped.
“Sheriff,” he called. “I came to secure the house.”
Daniel opened the door.
“Where’s the recipe box?”
Brian’s face remained calm.
“What box?”
“The one you tore this place apart looking for.”
“You’ve been gone too long, Danny. You don’t know what your mother agreed to.”
“She agreed to be thrown into a pit?”
Brian looked toward Owen.
“Laura said Daniel might become violent.”
Daniel stepped forward.
Owen placed one arm across his chest.
Brian smiled.
“That’s exactly what I mean.”
Then he looked directly at Daniel.
“Your mother chose Laura. You need to learn how to live with that.”
Daniel almost believed the words could still hurt him.
Then the tablet chimed.
A new message had arrived in Helen’s email.
It came from Laura.
May you like
Did you find the box?
Brian’s smile vanished.
