Chapter 8 - The Accountant Who Ran
Eric refused to tell me where he was.
He said Daniel had threatened him months earlier.
He said the theft had started smaller than Daniel intended.
At first, Eric believed Daniel was hiding money during marital problems.
Then he saw the psychiatric documents.
Then the investigator reports.
Then the insurance policy.
My hand tightened around the phone.
“What insurance policy?”
Eric went silent.
“Eric.”
“Eight million dollars.”
The room seemed to tilt.
“On me?”
“Yes.”
“Beneficiary?”
“Daniel.”
I closed my eyes.
Eric continued.
“Phase Four was supposed to happen after the incapacity order.”
“What was Phase Four?”
“I won’t say this over the phone.”
“Then go to the police.”
“I don’t know who Daniel paid.”
“Deputy Cole found me.”
“Then talk to him.”
Another long silence.
Finally Eric said, “There’s a storage unit.”
He gave me a number and a location outside town.
“Everything is there.”
Before I could ask another question, the line disconnected.
Detective Ortiz obtained a warrant within hours.
The storage unit belonged to a shell company controlled by Daniel.
Inside were boxes.
Computers.
Fake invoices.
Copies of my medical records.
Photographs of me leaving Hannah’s office.
Printed articles about pregnancy complications.
And a red folder labeled FINAL.
Ortiz did not show me everything inside.
She told me later that she wished she never had.
There were drafts of letters supposedly written by me.
One apologized to Daniel for being unstable.
Another said I needed “time away from everyone.”
A third was designed to look like a farewell note.
My blood went cold.
They were preparing an explanation for my disappearance.
Inside the same folder was a property map.
Our property.
The backyard was marked.
So was the wooded area behind an abandoned hunting cabin thirty miles north.
Hannah stopped reading.
“They weren’t planning to leave you in that yard permanently.”
I knew that already.
Some part of me had known the moment Daniel said Monday would not matter.
Ortiz placed one final photograph on the table.
It showed the hunting cabin.
Parked beside it was Mara’s SUV.
The photograph had been taken six weeks earlier.
Mara had told police she had never been there.
Now they had proof she lied.
But another person stood beside her in the image.
My father.
May you like
I stared at him.
He was holding the red folder.
