Chapter 9 - THE TRANSITION
Police took the flash drive before sunset.
Detectives interviewed Samuel.
Helen provided Dad’s medical evaluations.
Evan handed over everything he remembered signing.
And my mother disappeared.
She did not answer her phone.
Her car was gone.
Her suitcase was missing.
When I called, it went directly to voicemail.
Part of me wanted to believe she had gone somewhere to think.
The officer beside me clearly believed something else.
“Does she have access to another residence?”
“Not that I know.”
“Friends?”
“Many.”
“Cash?”
I thought of the $150,000.
“Yes.”
That night, I stayed in Dad’s house.
I could not sleep.
At 2:13 a.m., I sat in his chair listening to the recording again.
Mom.
Ray.
Lawson.
Dad.
“Thomas, sign it.”
“No.”
“You’re dying anyway.”
Then Lawson.
“We can make the transition easier.”
There was another sound after that.
A glass placed on a table.
Mom whispered something I had missed.
I increased the volume.
“Peter said it won’t hurt.”
My stomach turned.
I replayed it.
Same words.
Peter said it won’t hurt.
Peter Lawson.
Dad answered.
“That sentence should frighten you, Margaret.”
She started crying.
“You’re leaving me with nothing.”
“I am leaving you our home, retirement accounts, insurance, and enough money to live comfortably for the rest of your life.”
“Raymond says the company shares are worth twenty million.”
“They are not yours.”
“I’m your wife.”
“They belong equally to our children.”
Then Raymond said something.
“Evan will sell.”
Dad answered immediately.
“Which is why Claire gets the vote.”
I finally understood Mom’s resentment.
This had never been poverty.
Dad was not leaving her destitute.
He simply refused to hand her an asset intended for his children.
Mom had turned that refusal into betrayal.
Or Raymond had convinced her to.
My phone rang.
Unknown number.
I answered.
“Claire?”
Mom.
“Where are you?”
Silence.
“Mom.”
“You’ve turned everyone against me.”
“You vanished.”
“Because police are treating me like I killed my husband.”
“Did you?”
Her breath caught.
I hated myself for asking.
But I needed the answer.
“No.”
“Then come back.”
“I can’t.”
“Why?”
“Because Raymond is looking for me.”
I stood.
“What?”
“He knows about the recordings.”
“How?”
“He called me.”
“When?”
“An hour ago.”
“What did he say?”
Mom started crying.
“He said I ruined everything.”
My anger collided with fear.
“Where are you?”
“I’m safe.”
“Tell me where.”
“No.”
“Mom.”
“Claire, I never wanted your father dead.”
“Then what did you want?”
“I wanted him to sign.”
“What?”
“The sale.”
“You blocked my calls.”
“Yes.”
The confession punched through me.
“Why?”
“Because every time he spoke to you, he changed his mind.”
I gripped the phone.
“About selling?”
“Yes.”
“You let me believe he hated me.”
“I needed you to stop interfering.”
“He was my father.”
“And he was my husband.”
Her voice cracked.
Then she whispered something that changed the direction of everything.
“But the night he died, I tried to call you.”
I froze.
“What?”
“Raymond took my phone.”
“Why?”
“Because your father had changed his mind about something else.”
“What?”
May you like
Mom’s breathing became uneven.
“He decided to call the police.”
