Chapter 7 - THE WOMAN WHO KNEW TOO MUCHBy the following Monday, Patricia Whitmore's perfect life had begun to collapse.
Grandma had removed her from all foundation responsibilities pending the audit.
The board appointed an interim administrator.
David sent preservation notices to the relevant companies and individuals.
And Richard had moved out of the master bedroom.
But Patricia wasn't behaving like a woman who knew she was losing.
She was behaving like someone preparing to fight.
The first warning came at eight that morning.
I was feeding Lily breakfast in Grandma's hotel suite when my phone buzzed.
It was a photograph of me leaving my apartment the previous afternoon.
Underneath were six words.
Stop digging if you love her.
I stared at the screen.
My hands went cold.
A second message arrived.
Children suffer when mothers make mistakes.
I grabbed Lily from her high chair and carried her into Grandma's bedroom.
"Grandma!"
She came running.
One look at my face, and she reached for her phone.
Within an hour, Marcus had documented the messages and advised us to report the threats to police.
The number wasn't registered to anyone we recognized.
But I knew who I suspected.
"Patricia," I whispered.
Grandma shook her head.
"We don't know that."
"Who else?"
She looked at Lily.
Then she said, "Whoever sent those messages, we're going to take them seriously."
That afternoon, David called with an unexpected development.
Vanessa wanted to cooperate.
She had contacted an attorney.
Her lawyer said she possessed documents connecting Patricia, Martin Bell, and Trevor Mills to the fraudulent property transaction.
She was also willing to explain her own involvement.
I listened without interrupting.
Then I asked, "Why now?"
David hesitated.
"Her attorney says Vanessa believes she's in danger."
I thought of the threatening messages.
"From Patricia?"
"Possibly. She hasn't provided all the details yet."
I closed my eyes.
Vanessa had betrayed me.
She had accepted money while I struggled.
She had helped someone impersonate me.
And she had apparently lied to me for months.
But if she knew something about Daniel's death, I needed to hear it.
"Tell her I'll listen."
The meeting took place two days later at David's office.
Vanessa entered through a side door with her attorney.
She looked nothing like the woman from the lake house photograph.
Her hair was tied back.
She wore a plain black sweater.
Dark circles shadowed her eyes.
When she saw me, she stopped.
"Emily."
I didn't stand.
"Sit down."
She obeyed.
For several moments, she stared at her hands.
Then she began crying.
"I'm so sorry."
I looked at her.
"You were my best friend."
"I know."
"You held Lily before anyone outside our family."
She nodded.
"Daniel trusted you."
Her shoulders shook.
I leaned forward.
"Why?"
Vanessa covered her face.
"Because I was greedy."
The confession surprised me.
I had expected excuses.
Threats.
Claims that Patricia manipulated her.
Instead, Vanessa looked up with tears running down her face.
"I was jealous of you."
I stared at her.
"Of me?"
"You had Daniel. You had a beautiful marriage. You had a baby. Everyone loved you."
My mouth fell open.
"Vanessa, my husband died."
"I know."
"And you stole from me!"
She flinched.
Her attorney gently touched her arm.
Vanessa continued.
"Patricia contacted me after Daniel's funeral. She said there were complications with his insurance and that you needed someone to help with financial paperwork."
I sat perfectly still.
"She offered me twenty thousand dollars for administrative work."
I felt sick.
"What administrative work?"
"Collecting copies of documents. Helping with the trust forms. Attending meetings."
"And pretending to be me?"
Vanessa looked down.
"That came later."
My voice hardened.
"Tell me about the lake house."
She wiped her cheeks.
"Trevor found the property. Patricia wanted to purchase it using funds that couldn't be traced directly to her. She said it was a temporary arrangement."
"Why use my name?"
"She thought the house would look like a benefit purchased for you."
I laughed bitterly.
"A benefit?"
Vanessa nodded miserably.
"She told me she'd eventually transfer it properly, and you'd be grateful."
"So you went to the closing pretending to be me."
"Yes."
"Did Trevor know?"
She hesitated.
Then nodded.
I felt a wave of fury.
"And the necklace?"
Vanessa touched her throat instinctively.
"Patricia gave it to me."
"Why?"
"She said it was part of some jewelry she'd bought."
I stared at her.
"You saw me crying after I sold that necklace."
Vanessa lowered her head.
"I recognized it later."
"And you kept wearing it?"
She couldn't answer.
I looked toward David.
"I need a minute."
He nodded.
I walked into the hallway.
Grandma was sitting beside the window.
She opened her arms without speaking.
I knelt in front of her and cried.
Not because Vanessa had stolen money.
Not even because she'd helped destroy my financial security.
I cried because the person who knew every detail of my grief had been using that knowledge against me.
After several minutes, I returned.
"Tell me about Daniel's accident."
Vanessa's face turned pale.
Her attorney shifted in his chair.
"Answer only what you personally know," he said.
Vanessa nodded.
"Patricia was frightened of Daniel."
I held my breath.
"Why?"
"Because he had discovered the foundation transfers. She was afraid he would tell Grandma."
"Did she threaten him?"
"I heard them arguing on the phone."
"When?"
"Two days before the accident."
My heart hammered.
"What did she say?"
Vanessa swallowed.
"She told him he'd regret destroying the family."
I stared at her.
"Anything else?"
"After Daniel died, Patricia became obsessed with getting his laptop."
My pulse quickened.
"Where is it?"
Vanessa looked toward her attorney.
Then back at me.
"I know where she hid it."
Nobody spoke.
"Where?"
"Trevor's lake house."
I sat forward.
"The one they purchased in my name?"
She nodded.
"There's a locked cabinet in his office. Patricia told him not to connect the computer to the internet."
David began taking notes.
Vanessa leaned closer.
"Emily, there's something else about Trevor."
I waited.
"He and Patricia were arguing last week. I heard him say Daniel's death wasn't part of their original agreement."
The room became completely silent.
My chest tightened.
"What agreement?"
Vanessa shook her head.
"I don't know."
"Did Trevor say anything else?"
She hesitated.
"He told Patricia that if she tried to blame him for the truck, he'd tell the police everything."
My stomach dropped.
"Everything about what?"
Vanessa began crying again.
"I don't know, Emily. I swear."
David looked toward Marcus, who had been listening quietly.
Marcus's expression was grave.
"Vanessa, did you hear either of them explicitly say they damaged the truck?"
"No."
"Did you see anyone do anything to it?"
"No."
"Then we need to treat that conversation as a lead, not a conclusion."
I appreciated his careful words.
But fear was spreading through me.
Because someone had known about Daniel's brakes.
Someone had been discussing his truck.
And someone had sent messages threatening my daughter.
By evening, investigators were working to obtain the legal authority needed to examine the lake house and the computer.
Vanessa's statement was formally documented.
Trevor's business records were being reviewed.
And Patricia had hired an expensive criminal defense attorney.
Then, just before midnight, my phone rang.
It was Rachel.
She was sobbing.
"Emily, Mom's gone."
I sat upright.
"What do you mean?"
"She packed a suitcase and left. Dad doesn't know where she went."
"Did she say anything?"
Rachel took a shaky breath.
"She left a note."
I pressed the phone against my ear.
"What did it say?"
Rachel began crying harder.
"She wrote that if Grandma wanted the truth, she should ask Emily what Daniel was doing the night before he died."
The room seemed to spin.
I stared into the darkness.
Because the night before Daniel died, he'd told me he was going to a late meeting.
He came home after midnight.
His shirt was torn at the cuff.
And there was blood on his sleeve.
I'd asked what happened.
He said he'd helped someone after a minor roadside accident.
May you like
I believed him.
Now, fourteen months later, I no longer knew what to believe.
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