Chapter 5 - What Thomas Knew
I read Thomas’s letter three times.
He had written it seven years earlier.
A year before his death.
He described a conversation I had never known about.
Julian had approached him privately seeking $90,000 for what he called an investment opportunity.
Thomas investigated.
There was no investment.
Julian had accumulated business debt after trying to finance a lifestyle he could not afford.
Expensive vacations.
A luxury car.
A failed restaurant partnership.
Thomas had refused to give him the money.
Julian eventually repaid the debt himself over several years.
At least Thomas believed he had.
Then came the part that broke my heart.
I did not tell you because I know what you will do.
You will see our frightened boy instead of the grown man standing in front of you.
You will save him.
And if you save him often enough, he may eventually forget how to save himself.
I lowered the letter.
Sarah waited quietly.
There was another page.
Thomas explained that he had refused Julian’s request to borrow against the house.
He had also removed Julian from several financial authorizations before his illness worsened.
I did not know that.
After Thomas died, Julian told me his father had wanted him to help manage things.
I believed him.
Not because I was foolish.
Because he was my son.
Sarah read the documents.
“Thomas was worried about exactly this.”
“I know.”
“Clara, that doesn’t mean Julian planned what Brooke is doing now.”
“No.”
I folded the letter carefully.
“But it means lying about money didn’t begin this Christmas.”
That evening, Julian emailed Sarah access to three accounts.
One was his personal checking account.
One belonged to Brooke.
The third was Whitmore Household Services.
Sarah called me immediately.
“You need to see this.”
We reviewed the transactions together.
During the previous eighteen months, $67,300 had entered the account from my savings.
Nearly $41,000 had then been transferred to B&M Lifestyle Group.
Another $14,000 had gone to credit cards.
The remaining money had paid restaurants, hotels, furniture stores, and luxury retailers.
I recognized one charge immediately.
GUCCI.
$4,487.
Christmas week.
There it was.
The handbag.
A tiny piece of a much larger theft.
Then Sarah found something stranger.
Three months earlier, Whitmore Household Services had paid $3,800 to a company called North Pine Documentation Services.
“What is that?”
I asked.
“I don’t know.”
She searched the corporate registry.
The company had existed for less than one year.
Its registered agent was Margaret Ellis.
Brooke’s mother.
My phone rang.
Julian.
I answered.
“Did you know about North Pine?”
I asked before he could speak.
Silence.
Then he whispered.
“No.”
“Ask Brooke.”
“I can’t.”
“Why?”
His breathing sounded uneven.
“Because she left.”
I sat upright.
“What do you mean?”
“She packed two suitcases about an hour ago.”
“Where did she go?”
“I don’t know.”
May you like
Then Julian added something that made Sarah stop typing.
“She took your document box from the study.”
