Chapter 10 - BEHIND THE CEDAR WALL
The old house was still occupied by a retired teacher named Mrs. Greer.
Dad had rented it to her after deciding he could no longer live where the attack happened. When I explained that we needed to search for something my mother might have hidden, Mrs. Greer handed me the keys without hesitation.
“Your father told me this house survived a lot,” she said. “I didn’t realize he meant the people inside it.”
Dad refused to enter the living room.
That was where Colin had restrained him.
Instead, he walked through the kitchen and stopped in front of the cedar closet beneath the basement stairs.
My mother had stored winter coats there.
“She used to hide Christmas gifts behind the lower panel,” Dad said.
I knelt and examined the wood.
One board carried newer nails than the others.
Behind it, we found a plastic document pouch.
There was no red ledger inside.
Only a photograph, a safe-deposit key and a handwritten note addressed to Dad.
Arthur,
If you are reading this, either I finally convinced you to believe me, or something happened before I could.
Martin is using trusted family members to open accounts in the names of elderly clients. He creates debt, moves the money through failing businesses and makes the victims appear confused when they question it.
Colin knows more than he admits.
Do not protect him from this.
Protect him from becoming part of it.
Eleanor.
Dad sank onto the basement step.
My mother had not accused Colin of stealing.
Not then.
She had tried to warn Dad that Colin was standing near a fire.
Dad had answered by looking away.
The safe-deposit key belonged to a bank downtown. Records showed the box was registered jointly to my mother and a nonprofit organization called the Family Security Trust.
Martin Voss had established the nonprofit.
The bank refused access without a court order because my mother’s name had been removed from the registration nine days before her death.
The authorization carried her signature.
Dad stared at the copy.
“She couldn’t hold a pen that week.”
The signature had been forged.
Before we could request a warrant, Lena received an emergency call.
The bank manager had reported smoke in the archive room where old safe-deposit records were stored.
The fire suppression system contained the flames before they spread, but someone had entered the building with an employee access card twenty minutes earlier.
The card belonged to a bank clerk named Jason Pike.
Jason had not reported to work that day.
Police found him unconscious inside his apartment, sedated but alive.
On the wall above his desk, someone had written three words in black marker.
LET IT GO.
The message was meant for Jason.
May you like
But the timing was meant for us.
Martin knew we had found the key.
