He lifted a thick envelope.
Chapter 3
PART 3 - THE FAMILY SECRET BEHIND GREGORY
1,417 words
“She told me something else.”
The screen went dark for a second.
When Gregory reappeared, he was standing.
“She said the apartment was never Samuel Carter’s greatest investment.”
He leaned close to the camera.
“It was evidence.”
The recording ended.
No one spoke.
Then the basement doorbell rang upstairs.
All five of them jumped.
Christopher immediately stepped in front of Abigail.
“Were you expecting someone?”
Catherine shook her head.
The bell rang again.
Then someone knocked.
Three slow knocks.
Miriam took out her phone.
“I’m calling the police.”
Christopher moved toward the stairs.
“No. Stay here.”
He climbed halfway and stopped.
A voice came through the front door.
“Mrs. Carter?”
A man.
“This is Detective Harris, Milwaukee Police.”
Miriam frowned.
“Did anyone call them to this address?”
“I did,” Catherine whispered. “Earlier.”
Miriam nodded.
“Verify him before opening.”
Catherine called the department.
Several tense minutes later, the dispatcher confirmed Detective
Eric Harris had been sent to take their report.
Only then did Christopher open the door.
Two officers entered.
Detective Harris was in his forties, broad-shouldered and tired-looking. His partner, Officer Nguyen, remained near the entrance.
Harris listened while Alison explained everything.
The forged power of attorney.
The purchase agreement.
The threats.
The flash drive.
Gregory’s recording.
When she mentioned Margaret Vale, however, Harris stopped writing.
“What was the name?”
“Margaret Vale.”
He looked at Catherine.
“Your sister?”
Catherine slowly nodded.
Detective Harris lowered his notebook.
“Mrs. Carter, I need you to come downtown.”
Alison frowned.
“Why?”
Harris ignored her.
“Mrs. Carter?”
Catherine’s face had gone pale.
“Am I under arrest?”
“No.”
“Then why?”
Detective Harris took a slow breath.
“Because the name Margaret Vale is connected to an active investigation.”
Alison stared.
“That’s impossible. She disappeared twenty-one years ago.”
“I know.”
“How can it be active?”
Harris glanced at
his partner.
Then said, “Because last month a demolition crew working beneath an old warehouse near Menomonee Valley discovered human remains.”
Catherine made a broken sound.
Alison grabbed her mother’s arm.
Harris continued reluctantly.
“There was jewelry with the remains. Personal effects. We didn’t have a positive identification.”
He looked directly at Catherine.
“But one item was engraved with the initials M.V.”
Catherine collapsed into the chair.
Alison could barely breathe.
“Are you saying it was Margaret?”
“I’m saying we don’t know yet.”
Christopher spoke.
“And Gregory knew?”
“That’s something I’d like to determine.”
Alison looked toward the flash drive.
Suddenly everything felt less like a property fraud and more like a trap designed years in advance.
Detective Harris collected copies of the messages and instructed Alison to remain somewhere Gregory could not easily locate her.
“He has access to my apartment,” Alison said.
“We’ll send officers.”
“He has my
passport.”
“We’ll recover whatever is there if he hasn’t removed it.”
Christopher crossed his arms.
“I’m taking Alison and Abigail somewhere else tonight.”
Harris nodded.
“That would be wise.”
But Abigail wasn’t listening.
She was staring at Catherine.
“Grandma?”
Catherine lifted her face.
“Yes, baby?”
“Did you know where Aunt Margaret was?”
Every adult in the basement turned toward her.
Catherine stared at Abigail.
“No.”
Abigail looked confused.
“But Gregory said you did.”
“When?”
“Last night.”
Alison’s heart began pounding again.
“What exactly did he say?”
Abigail squeezed her eyes shut, trying to remember.
“He was talking on the phone. He said, ‘Catherine knows where Margaret ended up. She always did.’”
Catherine stood.
“That’s a lie.”
“Then who was he talking to?” Christopher asked.
“I don’t know.”
Abigail’s eyes opened.
“The lady.”
“What lady?”
“The one in the video.”
Alison pictured the sharply dressed woman.
“Did you hear her name?”
Abigail nodded.
“Elaine.”
Detective Harris’s expression changed instantly.
“What?”
Abigail looked at him.
“He called her Elaine.”
Harris pulled out his phone.
“What did she look like?”
“Dark hair. Maybe forty. She had a gold necklace shaped like a leaf.”
Detective Harris moved away from them and dialed.
Miriam watched him.
“You know her.”
Harris didn’t answer.
Someone picked up.
“This is Harris. I need you to check a name connected to the Vale case.”
He paused.
“Elaine Mercer.”
Catherine suddenly gripped the edge of the table.
Alison noticed.
“Mom?”
Catherine whispered, “No.”
Alison stepped closer.
“You know that name too?”
Catherine stared at her.
“I haven’t heard it in twenty years.”
“Who is she?”
Before Catherine could answer, Harris ended his call.
He looked unsettled.
“Elaine Mercer was interviewed when Margaret disappeared.”
“Why?” Alison asked.
“She was Margaret’s accountant.”
Catherine shook her head.
“Not just her accountant.”
Everyone looked at her.
Catherine’s voice was barely audible.
“She was Samuel’s mistress.”
Alison felt something crack inside her.
“My father had an affair with Margaret’s accountant?”
“For almost three years.”
“And you stayed with him?”
“I didn’t know until after Margaret vanished.”
Christopher exhaled.
“This keeps getting worse.”
Detective Harris looked at Catherine.
“What else haven’t you told us?”
Catherine began crying.
Not loudly.
That somehow made it worse.
“I found a letter.”
“When?”
“The morning after Margaret disappeared.”
Harris stepped closer.
“What letter?”
“One she wrote to Samuel.”
“Do you still have it?”
Catherine shook her head.
“I burned it.”
Alison stared at her mother in disbelief.
“You burned evidence?”
“I was protecting my family.”
“From what?”
Catherine finally looked at her daughter.
“From the truth about who your father was.”
Alison’s chest tightened.
“What did the letter say?”
Catherine opened her mouth.
Then closed it.
Harris said, “Mrs. Carter.”
“She accused Samuel and Elaine of using her accounts to launder money.”
Nobody spoke.
“She said the apartment was bought partly with stolen funds. Margaret discovered what they were doing and threatened to report them.”
Harris’s face hardened.
“Why didn’t you tell police?”
“Samuel convinced me Margaret was unstable.”
“And you believed him?”
“I wanted to.”
Alison turned away.
She could no longer look at her mother.
Outside, evening had begun pressing blue shadows against the basement windows.
A house she had known all her life suddenly felt full of secrets.
Detective Harris collected the old documents and prepared to escort Catherine to the station.
Before leaving, he pointed at Alison.
“Do not go anywhere Gregory expects you to go.”
She nodded.
“And if he contacts you, don’t respond.”
He left with Catherine.
Christopher insisted Alison and Abigail stay at his sister’s vacant condo in Wauwatosa, a place Gregory had never visited.
They drove separately.
Christopher took Abigail.
Alison followed Miriam.
Halfway there, Alison’s phone—powered on only so police could trace incoming communications—buzzed.
A message.
Gregory.
She didn’t open it.
Then another.
And another.
At a red light, she finally looked.
**You found the box.**
Her throat tightened.
How could he know?
A second message.
**Catherine is finally talking. Good.**
A third.
**Ask the detective why he didn’t tell you about the DNA test.**
Alison stared.
She immediately called Harris.
He answered after two rings.
“What DNA test?”
Silence.
“Detective?”
“Where are you?”
“That’s not an answer.”
“Alison, where are you?”
“In the car.”
“Pull over somewhere public.”
Her pulse raced.
“Why?”
“Just do it.”
She pulled into a brightly lit gas station.
Miriam stopped behind her.
Harris remained on the phone.
“We received preliminary DNA results this afternoon.”
“From the remains?”
“Yes.”
“Is it Margaret?”
Another silence.
“No.”
Alison felt a strange rush of relief.
Then Harris continued.
“The remains are related to Margaret.”
She gripped the phone.
“What does that mean?”
“The DNA indicates a first-degree familial relationship.”
“A parent? A sibling?”
“Or a child.”
Alison thought of Gregory.
His claim that Margaret was his mother.
“Gregory?”
“We’re trying to locate him.”
“What aren’t you telling me?”
Harris sighed.
“The remains appear to be female.”
Alison stopped breathing.
A female child of Margaret Vale.
“That’s impossible.”
“That’s why we need more testing.”
Alison suddenly remembered something.
Gregory’s recording.
*My mother was Margaret Vale.*
But he had never said Margaret only had one child.
“Detective…”
A horn sounded behind her somewhere in the parking lot.
Alison looked into her rearview mirror.
A black SUV had pulled in.
Its headlights flashed once.
Her phone buzzed with another message.
Not from Gregory.
Unknown number.
A photograph loaded.
Alison sitting in her car.
Taken seconds earlier.
She spun around.
The black SUV began moving.
“Miriam!” she screamed.
Miriam had already exited her vehicle and was calling 911.
The SUV rolled toward the far exit.
Then stopped.
The passenger window lowered.
A woman was sitting inside.
Dark hair.
Gold necklace.
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