Chapter 7
My father had been dead for eleven years.
And somehow, he had just destroyed me.
I stared at the photograph until the words blurred.
I am responsible for what happened to her father.
My mother covered her mouth.
“You knew.”
“No.”
“You knew there was a letter.”
“Yes.”
“And you never read it.”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because Frank told me not to unless there was no other choice.”
I laughed bitterly.
“What exactly qualifies as another choice, Mom? My wife drugging you?”
She flinched.
I immediately regretted my tone.
But I couldn’t pull the words back.
Detective Lewis interrupted.
“The letter is several pages long.”
“Read it.”
“We need the original processed first.”
“I don’t care.”
“I do.”
I turned on him.
“That is my father’s letter.”
“And it may now be evidence in multiple investigations.”
I almost argued.
Then stopped.
He was right.
Again.
I hated everyone who was right that day.
My phone rang.
Charles Benson.
I answered.
“Daniel, Thomas turned himself in.”
“What?”
“He contacted another attorney and went to Fort Worth police.”
“Why?”
“He claims Vanessa threatened him.”
“With what?”
“The records involving his father.”
Of course.
Everyone had leverage against everyone.
“Is he talking?”
“Through counsel.”
“About the trust?”
“Yes.”
“And?”
“He admits he drafted it.”
“Does he admit Mom wasn’t competent?”
“He says he believed she was competent.”
“He was in the room while she was being drugged.”
“He denies knowing that.”
I closed my eyes.
“Charles, I need everything Thomas touched.”
“We’re preserving it.”
“Not just Mom’s trust. My files. Vanessa’s files. Companies. Properties. Everything.”
“I’ve already ordered an internal audit.”
“Good.”
“There’s something else.”
“There’s always something else.”
“Thomas accessed your prenuptial agreement six times this year.”
That made no sense.
“Why?”
“I don’t know.”
Vanessa and I had signed a prenup before our wedding.
Mostly because my father insisted.
Vanessa barely argued.
At the time, I thought that proved she wasn’t interested in my money.
Now the memory made me feel stupid.
“What could she gain from the prenup?”
“Not much in a normal divorce.”
“In an abnormal one?”
“Daniel.”
“Say it.”
“If you died while married, the prenup doesn’t prevent her from receiving certain jointly held assets, insurance proceeds, or whatever your estate plan leaves her.”
The hospital room became very quiet.
I stared at the wall.
“Are you saying she was planning to kill me?”
“No.”
“You brought up me dying.”
“I’m telling you why someone might review the agreement.”
I thought about my mother.
The tea.
The pills.
The trust.
Then my own morning coffee.
Every meal Vanessa had ever made.
Every bottle she had handed me.
Stop.
I forced myself to think clearly.
Fear could turn anything into evidence.
“Did Thomas access my will?”
A pause.
“Yes.”
“When?”
“Several times.”
“How recently?”
“Yesterday.”
My blood went cold.
“Why yesterday?”
“We don’t know.”
I hung up and looked at Lewis.
“You heard that?”
“Yes.”
“What do I do?”
“Tonight?”
“Yes.”
“You don’t return home until it’s cleared.”
“My house is a crime scene now?”
“Potentially.”
“And tomorrow?”
“We take this one step at a time.”
I hated that phrase.
One step at a time was what people said when the staircase was on fire.
A nurse entered.
“Mr. Mercer?”
“Yes.”
“Your wife is asking to speak with you.”
I stared at her.
“She’s here?”
“Different floor. She was transferred from Fort Worth after stabilization.”
“Why here?”
“Her treating physician requested it.”
Lewis immediately asked, “Is she under police supervision?”
“Yes.”
I looked at him.
“Can I see her?”
“That depends on the officers assigned to her and her medical condition.”
“I need to.”
Mom grabbed my wrist.
“No.”
I looked down.
“Mom.”
“Don’t go alone.”
Lewis said, “You won’t.”
Twenty minutes later, I stood outside Vanessa’s room.
A uniformed officer checked with a nurse.
Then allowed me in.
Lewis stayed in the hallway but kept the door partially open.
Vanessa looked nothing like the woman who had stood in our bedroom that morning.
Her makeup was gone.
Her hair was tangled.
Her wrists were bruised from IV attempts.
She looked exhausted.
Small.
Human.
For one dangerous second, I remembered loving her.
Then I remembered my mother crying.
Vanessa looked at me.
“You came.”
I stayed near the door.
“What did you take?”
“Nothing that matters.”
“It matters to me.”
She laughed quietly.
“Does it?”
“Yes.”
“Even now?”
“Don’t do that.”
“Do what?”
“Turn this into a test of whether I love you.”
Her eyes filled.
“You don’t.”
I stared at her.
“Did you drug my mother?”
Silence.
“Answer me.”
“I gave her medication.”
“That wasn’t hers.”
“She was agitated.”
“You held her jaw.”
“She refused.”
“She wrote that you were poisoning her.”
Vanessa looked away.
“I never wanted to kill Evelyn.”
Not the answer I asked for.
I felt sick.
“Did you give her something without her consent?”
“Yes.”
There it was.
No denial.
No confusion.
Just yes.
“Why?”
“So she would sleep.”
“Why?”
“Because she wouldn’t stop watching me.”
“What were you doing?”
Vanessa closed her eyes.
“Looking for the book.”
“The blue book.”
“Yes.”
“You knew about it.”
“My father told me.”
“Your father died fourteen years ago.”
“He told me before he died.”
I moved closer.
“What exactly did he tell you?”
“That Frank Mercer destroyed our family.”
“My father said your father stole from him.”
“Your father lied.”
“The records show repayments.”
“Because Frank forced him.”
“For money he stole.”
Vanessa’s eyes flashed.
“You think your father was a saint?”
“No.”
“Good.”
She sat up slightly.
“Because he wasn’t.”
“Did you marry me because of him?”
That question hurt more than all the others.
Vanessa looked at me.
For the first time, she had no quick answer.
My throat tightened.
“Did you?”
“I knew who you were.”
Before we met.
I had expected it.
Still felt like a knife.
“At the charity auction?”
“Yes.”
“You spilled champagne on me on purpose?”
Her silence answered.
I looked toward the ceiling.
Twelve years.
A marriage.
Anniversaries.
Vacations.
The miscarriage we cried through together.
The nights she slept with her head on my chest.
Had all of it begun with revenge?
“What was the plan?”
“There wasn’t one.”
“Don’t insult me.”
“I wanted to meet you.”
“Why?”
“Because I wanted to see what kind of man Frank Mercer raised.”
“And?”
“And you weren’t what I expected.”
“What did you expect?”
“Cruel.”
The word landed strangely.
“You thought I was cruel?”
“I thought you would be entitled. Arrogant. Like him.”
“You didn’t know him.”
“My father did.”
“My father helped yours avoid prison.”
“That’s not the whole story.”
“Then tell me.”
Vanessa looked toward the door.
Then back at me.
“My father didn’t steal the money.”
“Thomas’s father says he did.”
“Thomas’s father moved the money.”
“For your father.”
“No.”
“Then for who?”
Vanessa whispered, “For Frank.”
I stared at her.
“That doesn’t make sense.”
“It will when you read the letter.”
“You already read it?”
“Part of it.”
“What did it say?”
Her eyes hardened.
“Ask Evelyn.”
“My mother says she never read it.”
Vanessa laughed.
“She’s lying.”
I stepped toward her.
“Be careful.”
“No, Daniel. You be careful.”
“My mother is in a hospital because of you.”
“And my father is in a grave because of yours.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I know enough.”
I lowered my voice.
“Why change Mom’s trust?”
Vanessa went quiet.
“The book.”
“What?”
“I needed access to the ranch records. Evelyn refused to tell me where they were.”
“So you tried to steal millions?”
“No.”
“The trust gives you sixty percent.”
“I never planned to keep it.”
I stared at her.
“That may be the stupidest lie you’ve ever told.”
“It was leverage.”
“Against an eighty-year-old woman?”
“Against Thomas.”
I frowned.
“What does Thomas have to do with Mom’s money?”
Vanessa took a slow breath.
“He needed the trust to look legitimate.”
“Why?”
“So he could move money through VM Holdings.”
I felt my pulse jump.
“Move whose money?”
“His father’s.”
“What?”
“Thomas has been hiding assets for years.”
“From what?”
“From the families his father stole from.”
This was becoming impossible to track.
“Do you have proof?”
“On a drive.”
“Where?”
She looked at me.
Then gave the smallest smile.
“The drive from your safe.”
My fists tightened.
“You took it.”
“Yes.”
“Where is it?”
“Safe.”
“Where?”
“I’ll tell you after you do something for me.”
I almost laughed.
“You’re bargaining?”
“I’m protecting myself.”
“You admitted drugging my mother.”
“I admitted making a terrible decision. Not trying to kill her.”
“What do you want?”
Vanessa looked directly at me.
“Read your father’s entire letter.”
“I will.”
“No. Read it before you decide what I am.”
“What difference does it make?”
“Everything.”
She lay back.
Her eyes closed.
I started toward the door.
“Daniel.”
I stopped.
She whispered, “Your mother didn’t get sick because of me.”
I turned.
“You just admitted giving her pills.”
“After she got sick.”
My stomach tightened.
“What are you saying?”
“The first three days?”
She opened her eyes.
“I didn’t give her anything.”
I stared.
“Then what made her sick?”
Vanessa looked frightened now.
Genuinely frightened.
“I don’t know.”
“Who does?”
May you like
She swallowed.
“Thomas.”
