Chapter 9 - THE EMPTY HOUSE
The old property sat forty miles outside town.
Police surrounded it before midnight.
I remained in the vehicle.
Detective Harris didn't want me anywhere near the house.
I understood.
But I needed to know.
At 12:17 a.m., officers entered.
Ten minutes passed.
Then twenty.
Finally Harris returned.
“He's gone.”
My heart sank.
“What did you find?”
“A basement.”
“What was inside?”
“A computer.”
My heart jumped.
“What kind?”
“Old.”
“Anything on it?”
“Yes.”
“What?”
Harris looked at me.
“Your father recorded another message.”
I closed my eyes.
Again.
My father.
Always leaving pieces of himself behind.
“Play it.”
Harris nodded.
The laptop screen flickered.
My father's face appeared.
This time, he looked frightened.
“If you're seeing this, Daniel has found the house.”
I froze.
My father continued.
“He will come looking for the account.”
He paused.
“But he doesn't know where it is.”
I leaned forward.
My father looked directly into the camera.
“The money isn't in a bank.”
I frowned.
“Then where?”
He smiled.
“In plain sight.”
The video ended.
I stared at the screen.
“In plain sight.”
Harris looked at me.
“Do you know what he meant?”
I shook my head.
Then something hit me.
My father had always been obsessed with an old painting.
A landscape hanging above the fireplace.
He never allowed anyone to move it.
I looked at Harris.
“The painting.”
“What painting?”
“At the house.”
We returned immediately.
The painting was still there.
Dust covered its frame.
Harris called an evidence technician.
They removed it carefully.
Behind it was a small steel panel.
My heart raced.
The panel opened.
Inside was a drive.
And a handwritten note.
I unfolded it.
For my daughter.
My vision blurred.
The drive contained financial records.
Contracts.
Property documents.
And evidence.
Evidence connecting my husband to multiple fraudulent transactions.
But there was something else.
A video.
I pressed play.
My husband appeared.
He was sitting across from my father.
Alive.
Angry.
My father's voice came first.
“You're not getting the land.”
My husband laughed.
“You can't stop me.”
“I can.”
“You're old.”
My blood turned cold.
My father stared at him.
“If you hurt my daughter, you lose everything.”
My husband leaned forward.
“You don't understand.”
“No.”
My father shook his head.
“You don't understand.”
The video ended.
I sat in silence.
Then Harris said:
“We have enough.”
“For what?”
“To arrest him.”
I looked at the screen.
“Where is he?”
“We have a location.”
My heart pounded.
“Where?”
“A motel.”
“Let's go.”
“You're staying here.”
“No.”
He stared at me.
“I want to be there.”
“Absolutely not.”
I shook my head.
“I spent months being trapped while everyone else decided what happened to me.”
My voice trembled.
“I'm not hiding anymore.”
Harris studied me.
Finally he nodded.
“But you stay in the vehicle.”
“Fine.”
We drove through the night.
At 2:03 a.m., police surrounded the motel.
Officers moved quietly.
A door opened.
A man stepped out.
Daniel.
My husband.
He looked toward the parking lot.
Our eyes met through the windshield.
His face changed.
He knew.
The police moved in.
“Daniel Walker!”
He ran.
Officers chased him.
He slipped near the stairs.
They caught him.
Handcuffed him.
And for the first time in my life, I watched my husband being held by someone he couldn't intimidate.
He looked toward me.
“You're making a mistake.”
I lowered the window.
“No.”
He shouted:
“You'll lose everything!”
I stared at him.
“I already lost everything.”
May you like
Then I closed the window.
And drove away.
