The photograph stayed on the table between us.
I couldn't stop looking at Margaret Price.
Twenty years had passed since David's funeral, yet I remembered her face.
She had stood beside me that day.
She had held my hand.
She had told me that David had loved me.
And all those years, I had never wondered why she was in that photograph with Victor Hale.
Sarah examined the back.
“There's handwriting here.”
I leaned closer.
A short note had been written beneath the date.
“P and V know where it is.”
I felt a chill.
“P?”
Sarah nodded.
“Price.”
“And V?”
“Victor.”
The officer photographed the note.
Then he asked, “What does ‘where it is’ refer to?”
“The policy documents,” Sarah said.
I looked at the old letter.
David had warned me about Victor.
He had never mentioned Margaret.
Maybe he hadn't known.
Or maybe he had.
The thought made me uncomfortable.
I looked toward the door.
“Where is Ellen?”
The officer checked.
“She is still being interviewed.”
“Bring her here.”
He hesitated.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
A few minutes later, Ellen entered.
She looked exhausted.
Her eyes were swollen from crying.
She sat opposite me.
I placed the photograph on the table.
“Do you know her?”
Ellen stared.
Then nodded.
“Margaret Price.”
“How?”
“She used to work with Dad.”
“Did she ever visit our house?”
“Sometimes.”
“How often?”
“I don't remember.”
“Think.”
Ellen closed her eyes.
“Once every few months.”
“What did she discuss?”
“Money.”
I felt a knot form in my stomach.
“Whose money?”
“Dad's investments.”
“Did she meet Robert?”
“Yes.”
“When?”
“After Dad died.”
I looked at her.
“How soon?”
“A few weeks.”
Sarah and I exchanged a glance.
Ellen continued.
“Robert said she was helping him understand the old accounts.”
“Robert knew her?”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“I introduced them.”
“Why?”
“Because Robert asked.”
I stared at her.
She had never told me.
Ellen lowered her head.
“I didn't think it mattered.”
“It matters now.”
She nodded.
I placed the photograph in front of her.
“Did you know Victor Hale?”
She shook her head.
“I've never met him.”
“Robert did.”
“Yes.”
“How do you know?”
“Because I heard them arguing.”
“When?”
“About six months ago.”
My heart tightened.
“What were they arguing about?”
“The policy.”
“Which policy?”
“Dad's.”
I stared at her.
“What did Victor want?”
“He wanted the original documents.”
“Why?”
“I don't know.”
“You heard them.”
“Yes.”
“What did Victor say?”
Ellen swallowed.
“He said the documents could destroy him.”
Sarah leaned forward.
“Did he say what was in them?”
“No.”
“Did Robert answer?”
“He said he would find them.”
I looked at my daughter.
“And you never told me.”
“I was afraid.”
“Of Robert?”
“Yes.”
“Why didn't you leave him?”
She looked down.
“Because I thought I could control the situation.”
I almost smiled.
That was exactly what Robert had thought about me.
Control.
Everyone believed they could manage the consequences.
Nobody expected the consequences to manage them.
The officer asked, “Did Margaret Price know about the documents?”
Ellen nodded.
“She called Robert once.”
“What did she say?”
“She said she had been waiting twenty years.”
The room went silent.
I looked at Sarah.
Twenty years.
That number again.
This had not begun with Ellen.
It had not begun with Robert.
It had begun before my husband died.
Perhaps before I even knew there was something worth hiding.
The officer's phone rang.
He answered.
Then looked at me.
“The former accountant has been found.”
“Is he safe?”
“Yes.”
“Where?”
“His office.”
“Did he find the missing envelope?”
“No.”
“What did he find?”
“A note.”
“From whom?”
He handed the phone to Sarah.
She read the photographed note.
“Stop looking for what David hid.”
I felt a chill.
There was another line.
“Your wife is already being watched.”
I looked at Ellen.
Her face went pale.
“My wife?”
The officer nodded.
“That's what it says.”
Sarah looked at me.
“It could refer to you.”
I shook my head.
“Or Margaret.”
We all fell silent.
Then my phone buzzed.
Another message.
“Ask your daughter what happened at the bakery six months before David died.”
I looked at Ellen.
She frowned.
“I don't know.”
“Think.”
“I was seventeen.”
“You were there?”
“Yes.”
“What happened?”
She closed her eyes.
“I remember Dad arguing with someone.”
“Who?”
“I don't know.”
“Was it Victor?”
“No.”
“Margaret?”
“No.”
“Then who?”
Ellen opened her eyes.
Her face had changed.
“I remember another man.”
“Who?”
“I don't know his name.”
“What did he look like?”
She thought.
“Tall.”
“Anything else?”
“Gray hair.”
My heart sank.
“Like Victor?”
“No.”
She looked at me.
“Older.”
Sarah asked, “What did he say?”
Ellen swallowed.
“He told Dad that if he didn't cooperate, you would lose everything.”
My hands went numb.
“Did your father answer?”
“Yes.”
“What did he say?”
Ellen whispered:
“He said he would rather die.”
The room became silent.
I looked at the photograph again.
David.
Victor.
Margaret.
Three people connected to a secret I had never understood.
Then I noticed something I had missed.
David was holding an envelope.
The same kind of envelope as the one we had just opened.
I pointed.
“Zoom in.”
The officer enlarged the photograph.
There was writing on the envelope.
Only three letters.
D.M.
Sarah stared.
“David Miller.”
I shook my head.
“No.”
“What?”
“Those aren't his initials.”
Sarah looked at me.
“My husband signed his documents D.A.M.”
She frowned.
“D.A.M.?”
“David Arthur Miller.”
The envelope said D.M.
Someone had removed his middle initial.
I looked at the photograph.
Then at the old letter.
Then at the note from the unknown sender.
Something didn't fit.
David had hidden the documents.
But perhaps he hadn't hidden them for himself.
Perhaps he had hidden them because he knew someone else would come looking.
The officer asked, “Do you know where the photograph was taken?”
I nodded.
“That is outside the old investment office.”
“Victor's office?”
“Yes.”
Sarah looked at the date.
Two days before David died.
I whispered:
“David wasn't meeting Victor.”
Everyone looked at me.
“He was meeting someone else.”
“How do you know?”
“Because Victor's office was closed that day.”
I remembered.
David had told me he was going to meet his lawyer.
Not Victor.
Daniel Price.
The attorney.
Margaret's husband.
Sarah immediately reached for her phone.
“I'll pull the old appointment records.”
The officer asked, “Could Price have been involved?”
“I don't know.”
I looked at the photograph again.
But I knew one thing.
If David had met Daniel Price two days before his death, then the warning letter had another meaning.
Perhaps Victor Hale had never been the person David feared most.
Perhaps Victor had been the person David wanted me to notice.
A distraction.
A name.
A threat placed in plain sight.
The real danger might have been much closer.
The officer's phone rang.
He answered.
Then his expression changed.
“What happened?”
He listened.
“Are you certain?”
He ended the call.
“What?” Sarah asked.
He looked at me.
“The former accountant has disappeared.”
I stared.
“He was safe.”
“He was.”
“When?”
“Ten minutes ago.”
“From his office?”
“Yes.”
“How?”
The officer looked toward the door.
“He walked out voluntarily.”
“Why?”
“We found the security footage.”
“And?”
The officer hesitated.
“He left with someone.”
“Who?”
The officer showed us the image.
I recognized the woman immediately.
Margaret Price.
Click here to continue reading: PART 11: Margaret Had Taken the Accountant, but the Old Estate File Revealed Why David Had Never Trusted Her Husband
The Moment My Daughter Reached for My Money, I Realized She Had Been Waiting for Something Much Darker
Part 10 of 15
