Chapter 3 - THE CABIN
I didn't sleep that night.
Neither did my mother.
We stayed in the hotel suite with every lock engaged.
Rachel arranged private security.
She also contacted a forensic accountant.
By sunrise, I had received another message from Michael.
You're destroying our family.
I deleted it.
Five minutes later:
Mom is devastated.
Deleted.
Then:
If anything happens to her, it's your fault.
I laughed.
Not because it was funny.
Because the manipulation had become so obvious that it was almost insulting.
Rachel entered the room.
"We found the cabin."
I looked up.
"Where?"
"Near Williams."
She placed a map on the table.
"The property belongs to a corporation."
"Whose?"
"That's the interesting part."
She turned the page.
"The corporation was registered eighteen months ago."
I read the name.
Coleman Heritage Holdings, LLC.
My stomach tightened.
"Michael's family?"
"Indirectly."
"Who owns it?"
Rachel looked at me.
"Your husband."
I stared at the document.
Michael had never mentioned it.
Not once.
"Why would he need a corporation to own a cabin?"
"Maybe he didn't."
"What do you mean?"
Rachel tapped the document.
"The company also owns two vehicles, a storage property, and a bank account."
I looked at her.
"How much?"
"Approximately four hundred thousand dollars."
I felt a strange pressure in my chest.
"Where did he get that money?"
"We're tracing it."
My phone rang.
It was Vanessa.
I answered.
"Hello?"
"I need to see you."
"Where?"
"Somewhere private."
"Why?"
Her voice trembled.
"Because I found something else."
We met in a bookstore café.
Vanessa arrived wearing sunglasses and a baseball cap.
She sat across from me.
"I went back to Hattie's house."
"Why?"
"Because I wanted my things."
She pulled a flash drive from her purse.
"I found this."
I didn't touch it.
"What's on it?"
"Videos."
My pulse quickened.
"What kind?"
"Security-camera footage."
I looked at Rachel.
"From where?"
"Your apartment."
I stared at Vanessa.
"What?"
"Your cameras."
My blood turned cold.
"Hattie had access?"
"Not just access."
Vanessa leaned closer.
"She had copies."
Rachel immediately took the flash drive.
"Don't open it here."
We returned to her office.
The files contained months of footage.
Hattie entering rooms.
Hattie searching drawers.
Hattie photographing documents.
Hattie opening my desk.
Then we found something worse.
A video dated three months earlier.
Hattie and Michael were standing in my office.
Hattie held a folder.
"She still hasn't signed it."
Michael responded:
"Give me time."
"Time is running out."
"She trusts me."
Hattie smiled.
"Then use that."
The recording ended.
I sat motionless.
Rachel continued through the files.
Then she found another.
This one showed Michael speaking with an unfamiliar man.
"How much?" Michael asked.
"Depends."
"On what?"
"On whether she cooperates."
Michael stared at him.
"And if she doesn't?"
The man smiled.
"Then we make the problem disappear."
I covered my mouth.
Vanessa started crying.
"I didn't know."
I looked at her.
"I believe you."
Rachel paused the video.
"Penelope."
"What?"
"There's a date."
She pointed at the timestamp.
It was six months ago.
The same week Hattie moved into my apartment.
I stared at the screen.
Six months.
They had been planning this for six months.
And I had thought Hattie was simply difficult.
Rachel closed the laptop.
"There's something else."
"What?"
"The man in this video."
She enlarged his face.
I recognized him.
My stomach dropped.
"He was outside my apartment."
Rachel nodded.
"Yes."
"Who is he?"
"We found his name."
She slid a file toward me.
I opened it.
Grant Coleman.
I looked up.
"He's Michael's uncle."
Rachel nodded.
"And according to his history, he has been involved in multiple real-estate fraud investigations."
I slowly closed the folder.
Suddenly, the entire family looked different.
Hattie wasn't the center of the problem.
Michael wasn't either.
There was a larger structure beneath them.
And I had just discovered its name.
Coleman Heritage Holdings.
That evening, I went back to my apartment.
Not to stay.
To retrieve something.
My mother's photographs.
My passport.
Several personal documents.
The building manager let me through after confirming my ownership.
The apartment was silent.
Too silent.
I walked into the living room.
Nothing appeared disturbed.
Then I noticed something.
The picture frame above the fireplace had moved.
I pulled it down.
Behind it was a small hole.
A camera lens stared back at me.
My heart stopped.
I called Rachel.
"Someone installed a camera."
"Don't touch it."
"I won't."
I stepped backward.
Then I heard footsteps behind me.
I turned.
Michael stood in the doorway.
His face was expressionless.
"You're not supposed to be here."
I stared at him.
"You installed cameras."
His eyes narrowed.
"What are you talking about?"
"Don't lie to me."
He smiled.
"You've always been dramatic."
I picked up my phone.
"I'm recording this."
His smile disappeared.
"Penelope."
"Stay away from me."
He took one step forward.
I stepped back.
Then he said something that changed everything.
"You really think your mother is safe?"
I froze.
"What did you say?"
He smiled again.
"Maybe you should ask her where she got the money for that trip."
My blood ran cold.
"What are you talking about?"
Michael turned away.
"You'll find out."
He walked toward the elevator.
I watched him disappear.
Then my phone rang.
It was my mother.
I answered immediately.
"Mom?"
There was silence.
Then her voice.
"Penelope..."
"Where are you?"
"I don't know."
My heart stopped.
"What do you mean you don't know?"
"I woke up somewhere unfamiliar."
I stood frozen.
"Mom, listen to me."
"I'm scared."
"Look around."
"I can't see anything."
"Is the room locked?"
"Yes."
I closed my eyes.
Michael had just threatened my mother.
May you like
Now she was missing.
And I knew exactly who had taken her.
