Chapter 7 - Martin's Office Was Empty
We were outside Martin’s office at 7:42 the next morning.
The lights were on.
The door was unlocked.
But Martin was gone.
His receptionist’s desk sat empty.
A cup of coffee was still warm.
Dad called his name.
No answer.
We checked the conference room.
The copy room.
His private office.
Nothing.
Then I noticed a file cabinet drawer hanging open.
Papers covered the floor.
Dad stopped.
“Don’t touch anything.”
I looked at him.
“You think somebody broke in?”
“I think we call the police.”
Before he could, a door clicked behind us.
We spun around.
Martin stepped from the supply closet.
His tie was loose.
His face was gray.
“Lock the door.”
Dad crossed the room.
“What happened?”
“Lock it.”
I did.
Martin sat down heavily.
“Veronica called me last night.”
Dad’s hands curled.
“What did she say?”
“That if I spoke to you, she would accuse me of stealing from the trust.”
Dad looked at him.
“Did you?”
Martin’s face tightened.
“No.”
“Then why were you meeting with her?”
He saw the photograph in my hand.
For a moment, he looked almost relieved.
“That was the night I confronted her.”
“About the money?”
“About the first transfer.”
I leaned forward.
“You knew?”
“I suspected. I did not have full access because your mother structured the account with staged authority.”
Dad slammed his palm on the desk.
“Why didn’t you call me?”
“Because your name is not on the trust.”
Silence.
Dad stared at him.
Martin continued.
“Evelyn did that deliberately.”
My mother.
“What are you saying?”
“She loved you, Richard. But she was afraid grief would make you trust the wrong person.”
Dad looked like he had been struck.
Martin turned to me.
“Your mother wrote you a letter.”
My chest tightened.
“Where?”
“In a safe-deposit box.”
“Why didn’t I get it?”
Dad sat down.
Martin opened a drawer and removed a key.
A small brass key with a paper tag.
CLAIRE — 19.
He placed it in my palm.
“Your mother left more than a letter.”
“What?”
Martin glanced toward the window.
“A recording.”
Dad’s face went still.
“Of what?”
Martin hesitated.
“Of the last conversation Evelyn ever had with Veronica.”
Every hair on my arms rose.
“Veronica knew my mother?”
May you like
Martin met my eyes.
“Long before your father did.”
