Chapter 8 - The Son of the Accountant
Eric Simmons's apartment was empty.
Not recently emptied.
Prepared.
No photographs.
No mail.
No food except bottled water.
A mattress without sheets.
Marcus called Daniel from inside.
"He planned this."
Daniel stood in his office listening.
Maya sat across from him.
Noah was upstairs with Mrs. Alvarez.
"What did police find?" Daniel asked.
"Laptop's gone. Phone's gone. No personal documents."
"Anything?"
"One thing."
Marcus paused.
"A storage-unit receipt."
"Where?"
"South Harbor."
Daniel stood.
"I'll meet you."
Maya stood too.
"No."
Daniel looked at her.
"Excuse me?"
"You are not going to a storage unit belonging to someone sending threats."
"I'm going with police."
"Then I'm going."
"No."
"Why?"
"Because you're the person being threatened."
"Exactly."
Daniel stared.
Maya crossed her arms.
"If this involves me, I want to know why."
"Your safety matters more than curiosity."
"It's not curiosity."
She lowered her voice.
"Someone pulled me into this before I even knew your last name."
Daniel's face softened.
"Still no."
Maya glared.
He almost smiled.
"Enjoying being a dictator?"
"Immensely."
Margaret entered.
"Take her."
Daniel turned.
"Mother."
"She's an adult."
"Thank you," Maya said.
Margaret added, "An annoyingly stubborn adult."
"Still taking it."
Daniel sighed.
An hour later they stood outside storage unit 308.
Police opened it.
Inside were boxes.
Dozens.
Foundation records.
Photographs.
Newspaper clippings about Elena.
Daniel's family.
His company.
And Maya.
Maya stopped breathing.
There were pictures from the grocery store.
The hotel.
Outside the transitional residence.
"He followed me."
Marcus nodded.
"For at least two days."
Maya looked at Daniel.
Daniel's face hardened into something she hadn't seen before.
Not fear.
Fury.
Detectives opened another box.
Inside were copies of bank transfers.
Harold Simmons's name appeared repeatedly.
Daniel frowned.
"Why would he keep evidence against himself?"
Marcus picked up a notebook.
"Maybe because he wasn't stealing."
They read.
Harold's handwritten entries described discovering irregularities after Elena asked him to review payments.
He believed somebody above him had manipulated vendor accounts and planned to blame him if exposed.
A final entry was dated one week after Elena's death.
Mrs. Hayes was right. V.L. knows. But he isn't alone. I have to protect Eric.
Daniel stared.
"V.L."
Maya said, "Victor Lang."
"Probably."
"But 'isn't alone.'"
Marcus nodded.
"Meaning another person."
A detective called from the back.
They found an old voice recorder.
The batteries were dead.
Police bagged it for evidence.
Another box contained letters.
Most were from Harold to Eric.
One had never been mailed.
Daniel read aloud.
"Eric, if you're reading this, then I failed to make things right. I didn't steal from the foundation. I signed forms Victor put in front of me because I trusted him. Elena discovered the money was being routed elsewhere. She wanted to expose him. I told her to wait until we had proof."
Daniel stopped.
Maya whispered, "Keep going."
He did.
"She said waiting meant another family went without food. She was furious."
Daniel closed his eyes.
That sounded exactly like Elena.
"Then what?" Maya asked.
Daniel read.
"Two days later she was gone. I told myself the accident was an accident. I still want to believe that. But Victor came to my office after the funeral and told me to forget what Elena found if I wanted my son to remain safe."
Marcus swore quietly.
Maya's skin went cold.
Daniel finished.
"I kept silent. That is my shame."
The unit fell silent.
Daniel lowered the letter.
"So Eric thought his father was threatened."
"Possibly," Marcus said.
"And now he thinks you ignored Elena," Maya added.
Daniel looked at her.
"He wouldn't be entirely wrong."
Maya shook her head.
"Don't do that."
"Do what?"
"Turn guilt into proof."
Daniel frowned.
"You're good at blaming yourself. That doesn't mean you're responsible for what Victor may have done."
He looked away.
"Elena came to me."
"You didn't know what would happen."
"I knew she was worried."
"You were busy."
"I was absent."
"Those aren't the same as murder."
Daniel's eyes snapped toward her.
The word hung between them.
Maya regretted saying it.
"No evidence says her crash wasn't accidental."
Daniel nodded stiffly.
"Yet."
Police took the recorder.
By evening technicians recovered the audio.
Daniel, Maya, Margaret and Marcus listened in the study.
Static.
Then Elena's voice.
Daniel's hands shook.
It was the first time he'd heard a new recording of her in two years.
Not a family video he'd replayed until memorized.
Something he had never heard.
Elena sounded angry.
"Harold, we can't keep pretending this is bookkeeping."
A man's voice answered.
"I know."
"Victor approved the transfer."
"His code did."
"Stop protecting him."
"I'm protecting you."
"I don't need protection."
Maya glanced at Daniel.
That sounded familiar.
Harold said, "Elena, somebody else is authorizing these vendors."
"Who?"
"I don't know."
"You do."
"No."
"Harold."
Static swallowed several seconds.
Then Harold's voice:
"I think it's someone Daniel trusts completely."
Daniel leaned forward.
More static.
Elena said, "Claire?"
Daniel stopped breathing.
The recording crackled.
Harold answered.
"No."
Daniel exhaled.
Then:
"Someone closer."
The audio ended.
Margaret looked pale.
"Closer than Claire?"
Marcus said nothing.
Daniel stood.
"Play it again."
They did.
Same words.
Someone Daniel trusts completely.
Someone closer.
Maya's eyes moved toward Margaret.
She immediately hated herself for it.
Daniel noticed.
"No."
"I didn't say anything."
"You thought it."
Margaret looked at both of them.
"Daniel."
He turned.
"I didn't steal from Elena."
"I know."
His answer came instantly.
Margaret's eyes filled anyway.
Marcus said, "There are other possibilities."
"Who?"
Daniel asked.
"Board members. Family advisors. Household staff. Personal attorneys."
Maya thought of how many people surrounded wealth.
People who managed calendars, money, travel, homes, charities.
Access could look like loyalty.
The phone rang.
Daniel answered.
It was Victor Lang.
Daniel put it on speaker.
"Daniel, we need to talk."
Daniel's face went cold.
"About what?"
Victor breathed heavily.
"Elena."
Everyone looked at one another.
Daniel said, "I'm listening."
"Not on the phone."
"Why?"
"Because your lines aren't secure."
Marcus began tracing the call.
Victor continued.
"I know you think I stole from the foundation."
"Did you?"
"No."
"Then why did Harold Simmons write that you threatened him?"
Silence.
Victor whispered, "You found the storage unit."
Daniel didn't answer.
Victor cursed.
"Listen to me. Harold was scared of the wrong person."
"Who?"
"I'll tell you face-to-face."
"Where?"
"The old foundation pantry. Broad Street. Midnight."
Maya's heart jumped.
The exact place Noah had been trying to find.
Daniel said, "Why there?"
"Because that's where Elena showed me what she discovered."
The call ended.
Marcus looked at Daniel.
"You're not going alone."
Daniel nodded.
"Obviously."
Maya said, "I'm coming."
"No."
"Daniel."
"No."
Maya opened her mouth.
Marcus interrupted.
"Actually, she may need to."
Daniel stared at him.
Marcus pointed to Maya's phone.
"Eric contacted her, not you. Victor may know why."
Daniel's jaw tightened.
At eleven fifty-five that night, they entered the abandoned pantry with police waiting two blocks away.
Dust covered the old counters.
Faded children's drawings remained taped to one wall.
Maya imagined Elena handing out bread there.
Victor stood near the back door.
He looked exhausted.
"Close it."
Daniel did.
Victor stared at Maya.
"So you're her."
"Apparently."
Victor looked at Daniel.
"Eric Simmons thinks I killed Elena."
"Did you?"
Victor went pale.
"No."
"Did you steal?"
"Yes."
The confession was so direct that everyone froze.
Victor laughed bitterly.
"Not eight hundred thousand. Ninety thousand."
Daniel stepped forward.
"You stole ninety thousand dollars from my wife's charity?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
"Debt. Gambling. Stupidity. Pick one."
Daniel looked ready to hit him.
Marcus stepped between them.
Victor continued.
"But when Elena discovered the transfers, she found something bigger."
"Eight hundred thousand?"
"Much bigger."
"How much?"
Victor swallowed.
"Eleven million dollars."
Daniel stared.
"From where?"
"Not the foundation."
Victor looked toward the old children's drawings.
"From Hayes Development."
Daniel's voice became dangerous.
"Who?"
Victor took a folded paper from his coat.
Before he could hand it over, glass shattered.
Victor collapsed.
Maya screamed.
Marcus dragged Daniel down.
Another window shattered.
Police rushed in.
Victor lay bleeding from the shoulder.
Alive.
Barely.
The paper had fallen beside him.
Maya crawled forward and grabbed it.
On it was a single bank account number.
And beneath the number, a handwritten name.
May you like
Margaret Hayes.
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