Chapter 15 - MONDAY
Dad died on a Friday.
Monday had always meant nothing to me.
Until now.
His attorney, Samuel Price, was seventy-four and retired.
He agreed to meet at his home.
When I asked about Monday, he went pale.
“Margaret said that?”
“Yes.”
He sat down.
“Then she knew.”
“Knew what?”
Samuel opened a cabinet.
Inside was a sealed envelope.
My name was written across it.
“I was instructed to give this to you if Thomas failed to appear at my office Monday morning.”
My throat tightened.
“Why didn’t you?”
“Because Margaret called me Saturday.”
I stared at him.
“What did she say?”
“That Thomas had reconsidered.”
“You believed her?”
“No.”
Samuel looked ashamed.
“But then Brandon brought me a signed letter.”
My stomach dropped.
“What letter?”
Samuel handed me a copy.
It said Dad no longer wanted the investigation pursued.
His signature appeared at the bottom.
Forgery.
Again.
“Why keep this envelope?”
“Because your father told me never to destroy it.”
I opened it.
Inside was a new trust amendment.
Dad had planned to remove Brandon from all financial authority.
Remove Margaret from the foundation.
Install independent managers.
And give me immediate voting control.
Effective Monday.
Three days too late.
There was also a letter.
Claire.
If I hand this to you Monday, you’re going to be angry that I interfered.
Be angry.
Stay angry for a week.
Then look at the evidence.
Brandon is not the man you believe he is.
I do not know whether he can become better.
That is not your job.
Your job is to remain free enough to choose what happens next.
I pressed the paper against my chest.
Samuel looked toward me.
“There’s one more thing.”
He handed me a small key.
“What is it?”
“Private archive.”
“Where?”
“First National Bank.”
“What’s inside?”
“Thomas never told me.”
The bank box was opened under federal supervision.
Inside were original contracts.
Financial records.
And a handwritten statement from Dad.
But the most important item was a photograph.
Margaret.
Dr. Mercer.
Brandon.
All three seated at a restaurant.
Date stamped.
The night before Dad died.
On the back, Dad had written.
If they meet again without me, assume the worst.
I stared at Brandon’s face.
May you like
He had told police he knew nothing about Dad’s medication.
Now I knew he had met with the doctor hours before my father died.
