Chapter 7 - THE WOMAN WHO REMEMBERED EVERYTHINGThe last place anyone had seen Eleanor Bennett was a grocery store in Bellevue.
According to the hospital administrator, she'd taken personal leave after reporting concerns about the circumstances surrounding my father's final hospital visit.
She'd told a colleague she was frightened.
Then she'd stopped answering her phone.
Her apartment was empty.
Her car was missing.
And someone had sent a resignation email from her hospital account the following morning.
Detective Morales didn't believe the resignation was genuine.
Neither did I.
But when I called her from the cemetery parking lot, she gave me an instruction I hadn't expected.
"Major Whitmore, do not try to find Eleanor yourself."
"She may know what happened to my parents."
"I understand."
"Then you understand why I can't just sit here."
"I understand why someone who has already threatened you might want you to act impulsively."
I went quiet.
Morales continued.
"We're coordinating with local police. If you have information, send it to me. Don't put yourself or your brother in danger."
I looked toward Brandon.
He sat in the passenger seat staring at his hands.
"Okay," I said.
But I wasn't okay.
I was furious.
Furious that my father was dead.
Furious that someone had frightened an elderly woman into disappearing.
Furious that every answer seemed to uncover another lie.
We drove back toward the lake house.
Halfway there, Brandon received a text.
He read it.
And whispered, "Oh, God."
I glanced over.
"What?"
He showed me the screen.
It was from Victor.
YOUR SISTER IS MAKING A MISTAKE. REMIND HER WHAT HAPPENS TO PEOPLE WHO DON'T LISTEN.
Beneath the message was a photograph.
A woman stood outside a roadside diner.
Gray hair.
Blue jacket.
Carrying a black handbag.
Eleanor Bennett.
The photograph had been taken that morning.
I pulled into a parking lot.
"Send that to Morales."
Brandon obeyed.
Then another message appeared.
TELL ABIGAIL TO BRING THE STORAGE DEVICE TO THE HOUSE TONIGHT. COME ALONE.
There was no address.
No signature.
Victor apparently believed he didn't need either.
I stared at the message.
Then made a decision.
"We're not going."
Brandon turned.
"What?"
"We're not handing evidence to a man who may have murdered our parents' friend."
"But Eleanor—"
"We're giving the police everything. Including this."
I called Morales again.
This time, she answered immediately.
After I explained, her voice sharpened.
"Do not respond. Forward the messages and photographs."
Then she asked, "Do you still have the storage device?"
"Yes."
"Keep it secure. We'll arrange to collect it."
I looked at the black case resting in my bag.
For twenty-eight years, my father's guilt had lived inside those files.
I wasn't going to let Victor destroy them.
By late afternoon, Detective Morales and a federal financial-crimes investigator named Daniel Price arrived at the lake house.
Thomas Sullivan joined us in Dad's study.
I placed the device on the desk.
Price examined the external casing.
"Was this ever connected to a computer after Arthur gave it to your brother?"
"No," I said.
He nodded.
"We'll document custody and have our forensic team create an authenticated copy."
"Will you tell me what's on it?"
"We'll share what we legally can as the investigation progresses."
It wasn't the answer I wanted.
But it was the answer I'd expected.
Then Morales said something surprising.
"Major Whitmore, we've located a person who may know where Eleanor went."
"Who?"
"Her daughter."
I blinked.
"Eleanor has a daughter?"
"Yes. A woman named Julia Bennett. She's an attorney in Tacoma."
Thomas suddenly looked up.
"Julia?"
Morales turned.
"You know her?"
"Arthur knew the Bennett family for years."
I frowned.
"Why didn't he ever mention them?"
Thomas hesitated.
"Because there was a complicated history."
I gave him a look.
"Mr. Sullivan, I'm beginning to think everyone in this family has a complicated history."
For the first time, he almost smiled.
"That's fair."
Morales closed her notebook.
"Julia says Eleanor is safe, but she won't disclose her location until she's spoken with counsel."
Relief rushed through me.
"She's alive?"
"According to her daughter. We need to verify that directly."
I leaned against the desk.
At least there was hope.
Then the study door opened.
Diane stood in the doorway.
She wore a black silk dress and held a glass of wine.
Her gaze moved from Morales to Price.
Then to the evidence case.
"What is this?"
"An investigation," I said.
She laughed bitterly.
"Into what? Your imagination?"
Morales stepped forward.
"Mrs. Whitmore, we'd like to ask you some questions."
Diane's expression tightened.
"Am I under arrest?"
"No."
"Then I have nothing to say without my attorney."
"That's your right."
Diane turned toward me.
"You really are determined to destroy this family."
I stared at her.
"No, Diane. I'm trying to find out who already did."
Something flickered in her eyes.
Then she said, "Arthur would be ashamed of you."
That hurt.
More than I wanted it to.
But I didn't look away.
"Dad told me to find the truth."
Her hand tightened around the glass.
"You think you know everything because he left you money."
"No."
My voice was quiet.
"I know he loved me."
Diane's expression twisted.
"Love? You think love is signing papers and handing over millions?"
I took a step forward.
"No. I think love is showing up for your daughter's school play even though you're exhausted. I think it's teaching her to drive. I think it's calling every Sunday when she's eight thousand miles away."
My throat tightened.
"I think it's making sure she knows she belongs somewhere."
For a moment, Diane looked almost wounded.
Then the hardness returned.
"Arthur was a fool."
Thomas stepped between us.
"That's enough."
Diane looked at him.
"No, Thomas. You know what I sacrificed. You know what I put up with."
He said nothing.
She pointed toward me.
"Everything was about Abigail. Her education. Her career. Her feelings. Arthur couldn't see anything else."
I stared at her.
"That's not true."
Diane laughed.
"You have no idea what it's like watching your husband give his heart to a child who isn't yours."
The room went silent.
Chloe stood behind her mother in the hallway.
I'd barely noticed her.
But now I saw the expression on her face.
Shock.
"Mom?" she whispered.
Diane turned.
Chloe's eyes filled with tears.
"You always told me Abby was the reason Dad didn't love us."
Diane went still.
Chloe continued.
"You said he spent everything on her. You said she manipulated him. You said he felt guilty because she was adopted."
Her voice cracked.
"But that's not true, is it?"
Diane said nothing.
Chloe looked at me.
For the first time, I saw how much damage Diane had done to both of us.
Not just by rejecting me.
But by teaching my sister that love was a competition.
Chloe wiped her eyes.
"Abby, I need to tell you something."
Diane's head snapped toward her.
"Chloe, be quiet."
But my sister wasn't looking at her.
"Last week, Mom asked me to delete Dad's old voice messages from his tablet."
My heartbeat quickened.
"Why?"
"She said they were upsetting her. That she wanted to move on."
Diane stepped forward.
"Chloe!"
Chloe flinched.
Then straightened.
"I didn't delete them."
The room froze.
"I copied everything to my laptop first. I don't know why. I just... I couldn't bring myself to erase Dad's voice."
She looked at me.
"There's one message from the night before he went to the hospital."
Diane dropped her glass.
It shattered against the floor.
Chloe kept talking.
"Mom was screaming at him. Victor was there. Dad said he had given all the evidence to a federal investigator."
Morales immediately looked up.
"Do you still have that recording?"
Chloe nodded.
"Yes."
Diane shook her head.
"Chloe, please."
My sister stared at her.
"Why are you scared of a voice message, Mom?"
Diane's lips trembled.
For a second, she looked like she might tell the truth.
Instead, she turned and walked away.
That evening, investigators collected Chloe's laptop, preserved the original data, and began reviewing the recordings.
At 10:42 p.m., Detective Morales called me.
"We've verified that Eleanor Bennett is alive."
I nearly collapsed with relief.
"Where is she?"
"She's in protective accommodation with her daughter."
"Can I speak to her?"
"She has agreed to meet with investigators tomorrow. She's also asked to see you."
I closed my eyes.
Then Morales added:
"Abigail, there's something else. Eleanor says she's been keeping a secret since the day your parents died."
I gripped the phone.
"What secret?"
May you like
Morales paused.
"She says your mother left behind a letter that Arthur never saw."
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