Chapter 7 - The Brother Who Came HomeChristopher Monroe was arrested forty miles away.
He had gasoline on his shoes.
The warehouse keys were in his car.
So was fifteen thousand dollars in cash.
Rachel refused to believe it.
“Chris hates Mom.”
Detective Brooks answered gently.
“Hating someone doesn’t mean you can’t work with them.”
We sat in the federal building while Christopher was questioned.
He eventually asked to speak with Rachel.
Investigators allowed it with attorneys present.
I watched through glass.
Christopher looked nothing like the man I remembered from Christmas gatherings.
He had lost weight.
His beard was gray.
His hands shook.
Rachel entered.
He wouldn’t look at her.
“Why?” she asked.
Christopher said nothing.
“Why burn Daniel’s warehouse?”
“Because she said I had to.”
“Mom?”
He nodded.
Rachel sat opposite him.
“You’re fifty years old, Chris.”
“I know.”
“She can’t make you do anything.”
“You don’t understand.”
Rachel almost laughed.
“I understand better than anyone.”
“She has documents.”
“What documents?”
Christopher rubbed his face.
“Tax stuff. Accounts. Money.”
“The money she stole?”
“I helped move some.”
Rachel stared at him.
“Why?”
“Because I thought it was mine!”
His voice cracked.
“Mom told me Dad left you everything.”
“He didn’t.”
“I know that now.”
“She stole from both of us.”
Christopher nodded.
“For years she told me you were Dad’s favorite. That you convinced him to cut me out. She showed me papers.”
“Forged papers.”
“I know.”
“Then why help her now?”
“Because Victor called.”
“What did he say?”
“That if I didn’t destroy records, they’d give the FBI everything showing I moved stolen funds.”
Rachel sat back.
“You could have gone to police.”
“I was scared.”
“That seems to be everyone’s excuse.”
Christopher finally looked at her.
“I’m sorry.”
Rachel’s face didn’t soften.
“Mom put her hands on my daughter.”
“I didn’t know.”
“You helped the woman who did.”
“I didn’t know!”
“You never asked.”
That landed harder than shouting.
Christopher started crying.
Rachel stood.
“Dad didn’t make us hate each other.”
Christopher looked up.
“Mom did.”
She walked out.
I followed her into the corridor.
She leaned against the wall.
“I lost twenty years with my brother.”
“You might not lose the next twenty.”
“I don’t know if I want them.”
“You don’t need to decide today.”
She nodded.
Meanwhile, Victor and Patricia remained fugitives.
But Christopher provided a lead.
Victor owned a lakeside property under another company.
Agents moved in.
Empty.
They found luggage.
Food.
Cash.
And two airline tickets to Costa Rica scheduled for the following morning.
Agents covered airports.
Border crossings.
Train stations.
Nothing.
Then Patricia called Rachel.
Unknown number.
Rachel answered on speaker while Brooks traced.
“Hello?”
“My ungrateful daughter.”
Rachel’s face tightened.
“Where are you?”
“Does it matter?”
“Yes.”
“No. What matters is what you’ve done.”
“What I’ve done?”
“You turned everyone against me.”
Rachel almost smiled.
“You managed that yourself.”
“I protected this family for thirty years.”
“You stole from us.”
“I managed assets.”
“You forged Dad’s signature.”
“He was incompetent near the end.”
“You stole my inheritance.”
“You would have wasted it.”
“You framed me.”
“I was preventing Daniel from abandoning you.”
I stared at the phone.
Rachel did too.
“What?”
“Men leave when women become inconvenient. Your father taught me that.”
“Dad tried to leave because you were blackmailing him.”
“That’s what he told you?”
“It’s what he wrote.”
Silence.
For the first time, Patricia sounded unsettled.
“You found the letter.”
“Yes.”
“Your father was weak.”
“He was afraid of you.”
“He needed me.”
“No.”
Rachel’s voice steadied.
“You needed him afraid.”
Another silence.
Then Patricia said:
“Where is Lily?”
My muscles tightened.
“You don’t say her name.”
“I love my granddaughter.”
“You assaulted her.”
“She stole from me.”
“She is nine years old.”
“She took something extremely valuable.”
“And because of her, the FBI knows everything.”
Patricia inhaled sharply.
Brooks pointed to technicians.
They had a trace.
Rachel kept talking.
“It’s over, Mom.”
“Nothing is over.”
“Yes, it is.”
“You think Daniel will stay when this becomes public?”
“He already knows.”
“You think Lily will forget what she saw?”
“She doesn’t need to.”
Patricia’s voice sharpened.
“I gave you everything.”
Rachel began crying.
But she smiled through it.
“No, Mom.”
“You took everything.”
Then the line disconnected.
Brooks looked toward an agent.
“Got it?”
“Partial.”
“Where?”
“Downtown.”
My stomach dropped.
They were close.
Police flooded the area.
Three hours later, Victor was found inside a parking garage.
Alone.
He surrendered immediately.
Patricia wasn’t with him.
Victor, faced with decades in prison, began talking before his attorney could fully stop him.
Patricia had left him.
Taken cash.
Taken documents.
Taken his car.
And she had one destination in mind.
Rachel’s father’s grave.
We raced toward the cemetery.
Police arrived first.
They found Victor’s car near the entrance.
The driver door stood open.
Patricia wasn’t at Thomas’s grave.
But something was.
A bouquet of white roses.
Underneath it lay an envelope addressed to Rachel.
Inside was a single note.
YOU TOOK MY FAMILY. I’M TAKING YOURS.
Rachel’s phone rang.
My sister.
I answered.
“Sara?”
She was screaming.
“Daniel, Lily’s gone.”
The world stopped.
“What?”
“The back gate was open. I turned around for two minutes.”
“No.”
“We’re looking everywhere.”
“NO.”
Then my phone buzzed with a photograph.
Lily sitting inside a car.
Terrified.
May you like
Underneath it was a message.
BRING THE DRIVE. COME ALONE.
