Chapter 13 - The Road North
Marcus drove.
Nora sat beside him with the drive hidden inside her coat.
A black SUV followed them for twenty miles.
Marcus called Vivian.
“Do not come after us.”
“Where are you?”
“Southbound on I-91.”
“Police?”
“I already called.”
The SUV drew closer.
Then suddenly exited.
Marcus exhaled.
Five minutes later, a state police cruiser appeared behind them.
The danger seemed over.
Until Nora said, “That’s not the same police car.”
Marcus glanced at her.
“What?”
“The number.”
She had memorized the dispatcher’s description.
The cruiser behind them was from a different jurisdiction.
Its lights came on.
Marcus did not stop immediately.
He called 911 again.
The dispatcher confirmed no officer had been sent to their location.
“Keep driving to a populated area.”
The cruiser stayed behind them for another mile.
Then turned away.
Marcus looked at Nora.
“Someone wanted us to pull over.”
She clutched the drive tighter.
They reached Graham’s house after dark.
Everyone gathered in the basement.
Marcus connected the drive to an offline laptop.
Folders appeared.
Harbor Point.
Vale Ownership.
Richard.
Colin.
One folder surprised Vivian.
SARAH.
She stared at Nora.
“What is that?”
“I don’t know.”
Nora opened it.
Scanned letters.
From Laura Vale.
Vivian’s mother.
To Richard Whitaker.
Graham looked at Vivian.
“Do you want privacy?”
“No.”
She opened the first letter.
Richard,
You know those amendments are false. You know I never sold my ownership.
The second was angrier.
If anything happens to Elias or me, Sarah will eventually learn what you did.
Vivian’s hands shook.
The third letter was dated three months before Laura died.
I am not asking you to restore the shares for me. I am asking you to stop this before our children inherit our cowardice.
Vivian stopped reading.
Graham looked away.
Their parents had known each other far more intimately than either child realized.
Then Marcus opened the escrow scans.
Thousands of pages.
They searched for C.W. Consulting.
The transactions matched Owen’s files.
But a second recipient appeared repeatedly.
RAVEN HOLDINGS.
Graham frowned.
“I don’t know that company.”
Marcus searched incorporation records from the archived documents.
Raven Holdings was registered to a trust.
Beneficiary concealed.
Nora whispered, “Look at the address.”
Graham did.
It was the address of the Whitaker summer house.
Vivian looked at him.
“So Richard owned it?”
“No.”
Graham thought.
“The summer house belonged to my mother.”
He pulled up old estate records.
Raven Holdings had received 3.2 million dollars.
His mother, Evelyn Whitaker, had died believing Richard had betrayed her financially.
Or perhaps she had known.
Graham stared at the account name.
“Raven was her nickname.”
His father used to call Evelyn “my raven” because of her black hair.
Vivian touched his shoulder.
“Your mother was involved.”
Graham rejected it immediately.
“No.”
The evidence did not care.
A scanned authorization appeared.
EVELYN WHITAKER.
She had approved one transfer.
Then another.
Graham felt dizzy.
All his childhood memories of his mother were gentle.
Quiet.
Kind.
Now her signature sat beside millions in hidden money.
Marcus said, “There’s another folder.”
EVELYN—PERSONAL.
Graham opened it.
The first document was a handwritten note.
If Richard refuses to tell Graham the truth, I will.
The note was dated two weeks before Evelyn’s fatal stroke.
Graham stared.
His mother had intended to tell him something.
She died before she could.
Below the note was a list of names.
Richard.
Colin.
Elias.
Laura.
Owen.
And one other.
A name Graham recognized from his childhood.
May you like
Judge Samuel Hart.
The same judge who had later sentenced Elias Vale.
