Chapter 3 - The Fire in the Garage
Daniel moved faster than anyone else.
“Grace, get Emma into the SUV.”
Security officers ran toward the garage.
Dad blocked them.
“Get off my property.”
Charles stared at the smoke.
“You just admitted it isn’t your property.”
A sharp crack sounded from inside.
Mom screamed.
“My documents.”
She ran toward the door.
I caught her wrist.
“What documents?”
Her face collapsed.
“My passport.”
“My jewelry.”
“Your grandmother’s letters.”
Dad shouted from the driveway.
“Diane, stop talking.”
That was enough.
Mom turned on him.
“No.”
The word seemed to surprise even her.
Firefighters arrived within minutes because one of Daniel’s security officers had already called emergency services.
The fire remained contained to a metal filing cabinet inside the garage.
Someone had poured lighter fluid into it.
Dad insisted it was an accident.
Nobody believed him.
A fire investigator pulled half-burned folders from the cabinet.
Several carried the Whitmore Development logo.
Charles’s face hardened.
“These are internal accounting records.”
Dad shrugged.
“I worked there.”
“Seven years ago.”
The investigator lifted another charred folder.
My name was written across the tab.
GRACE CARTER.
My stomach turned.
Daniel touched my shoulder.
“You don’t have to stay here.”
“Yes, I do.”
For nine months, everyone had decided what I could handle.
My father decided I could not handle Daniel.
My mother decided I could not handle the truth.
Now they were standing around while evidence carrying my name burned in a metal cabinet.
I was finished walking away.
Maya photographed everything before police collected it.
Then an officer approached Dad.
“Mr. Carter, we need you to come with us for questioning.”
Dad sneered.
“Am I under arrest?”
“Not at this time.”
“Then I’m not going anywhere.”
The officer looked toward the burning cabinet.
“That can change.”
Dad finally went silent.
Mom sat on the front steps.
She looked twenty years older.
I sat beside her while Daniel carried Emma several feet away.
“Mom.”
She would not look at me.
“What did Grandma write?”
Mom’s fingers tightened around her wedding ring.
“She knew your father was stealing.”
My heart pounded.
“From Whitmore?”
“Not only from Whitmore.”
She looked toward Daniel’s family.
“Your grandmother discovered Robert had been moving money through accounts belonging to relatives.”
“Why didn’t she report him?”
“She tried.”
Mom swallowed.
“Then she died.”
I stared at her.
Grandma Evelyn had supposedly suffered a stroke four years earlier.
Mom finally looked at me.
“The night before she died, she called me and said Robert knew she had found the ledger.”
Daniel had been standing farther away.
Now he slowly turned toward us.
Because all of us had heard the same thing.
May you like
Grandma’s death might not have been the end of the story.
It might have been the beginning.
