I asked the officer to let me see the photograph again.
He handed it to me carefully.
I stared at the man beside Emily.
There was no mistake.
It was Thomas.
My former son-in-law.
I had not seen him since the divorce.
Emily had told me he moved to another country after their marriage ended. She said he had accepted a job overseas and wanted a clean break.
I had believed her.
Apparently, I had been wrong.
"How long has he been back?" I asked.
Daniel shook his head.
"I don't know."
"Then find out."
The officer looked at him.
"You've been collecting these photographs. Where are the originals?"
Daniel pointed to a second case.
"Everything is there."
The officer took the case.
I remained beside the desk.
My mind kept returning to the same question.
Why would Emily hide Thomas's return?
The answer arrived before anyone spoke.
Money.
Emily had always been careful about money.
She had learned that from me.
But after her divorce, she had become increasingly secretive. She changed jobs twice. She moved apartments. She stopped talking about her finances.
I had assumed she was embarrassed.
Now I wondered whether she had been frightened.
"Does Thomas have access to Emily's accounts?" I asked.
Daniel said, "Some."
"How do you know?"
"I checked."
The officer frowned.
"You checked her accounts?"
"Public records. Business filings. Nothing private."
He looked at me.
"That's enough for now."
I nodded.
The officer took the folders and instructed me to return home.
I wanted to argue.
Instead, I followed him downstairs.
The night air was colder than before.
I stood beside the police car and looked at the dark windows of the building.
Daniel came outside with another officer.
Before he left, he stopped beside me.
"I owe you an apology."
I looked at him.
"For what?"
"For letting you believe last night was just a coincidence."
I said nothing.
He continued.
"I was supposed to watch you."
My chest tightened.
"Watch me?"
"Yes."
"Who hired you?"
"I don't know."
"Then why do you keep saying that?"
"Because the agency used an intermediary. I never met the client."
"Did the client know my name?"
"Yes."
"Did the client know my birthday?"
Daniel hesitated.
"Yes."
I looked away.
Someone had planned the encounter.
The birthday.
The bar.
The hotel.
Maybe even the envelope.
But Daniel insisted he had not been responsible for the photographs or the messages.
That meant another person had been inside the plan.
Someone close enough to know exactly where I would be.
My daughter.
My son.
Or Thomas.
I returned home under police escort.
I did not sleep.
At four in the morning, I opened the folder the officers had left temporarily for me to review.
I found something I had missed.
A handwritten note attached to one photograph.
"Ask her about the red ledger."
I read it twice.
Red ledger.
The phrase meant nothing.
Then I remembered Robert.
He had kept an old red notebook in his study.
After his death, I had put it in a box with tax documents.
I had not opened it in years.
I went to the closet.
The box was still there.
Inside were old receipts, letters, photographs, and Robert's handwriting on the cover of a small red ledger.
My hands began to shake.
I opened it.
The first pages contained ordinary notes.
House expenses.
Insurance payments.
Dates.
Then the handwriting changed.
Not Robert's.
Someone else's.
I read the first line.
"Payment received."
Then another.
"Balance outstanding."
Then a name.
Victor Hale.
I sat down.
Robert had known him.
Not recently.
Years ago.
I kept turning pages.
The entries went back almost fifteen years.
Money had been borrowed.
Money had been repaid.
Large sums.
Some payments were marked with initials.
R.C.
Robert Carter.
My husband had never told me.
The final pages were dated six months before his death.
There was one sentence.
"If anything happens to me, make sure the children never give Victor access to the house."
I stopped.
The apartment suddenly felt unfamiliar.
Robert had been afraid of this man.
Why?
I called the police.
The officer arrived after sunrise.
I showed him the ledger.
He photographed every page.
"Did your husband have financial problems?"
"Not that I knew of."
"Could he have been involved with Victor?"
"Apparently."
"Could this be connected to your children?"
"I don't know."
He turned the pages.
Then stopped.
"This entry."
I looked.
A name appeared beneath the payment.
Emily Carter.
The date was eighteen months before Robert died.
My daughter's name.
"Why would my husband lend her money through Victor?"
"I don't know."
The officer studied the handwriting.
"This is your husband's?"
"Yes."
"Then we need to understand what he was protecting."
I called Emily.
She didn't answer.
I called again.
Still nothing.
Michael answered instead.
"Mom?"
"Where is your sister?"
"I don't know."
"Don't lie to me."
Silence.
Then he said, "She's with Thomas."
My heart sank.
"You knew?"
"Yes."
"How long?"
"Since he came back."
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"Because Emily asked me not to."
"Why?"
"Because she was scared."
"Of Thomas?"
"Yes."
I closed my eyes.
"Michael, tell me everything."
He hesitated.
Then he said, "Thomas didn't come back for her."
"Why did he come back?"
"Because of you."
My fingers tightened around the phone.
"What does that mean?"
"He believes Dad left something for you."
I looked at the red ledger.
"What?"
"I don't know."
"Michael."
"I swear."
"Where are you?"
"At Emily's."
"Is Thomas there?"
"No."
"Where is he?"
"I don't know."
I heard something in the background.
A door slammed.
Then Michael whispered, "Mom, don't trust anyone who tells you they know what Dad wanted."
The call ended.
I called back.
No answer.
I immediately contacted the police.
They traced Michael's phone.
It had been turned off.
My fear became physical.
I grabbed my coat.
The officer stopped me.
"Where are you going?"
"To Emily's."
"We'll go with you."
We drove there.
Emily's apartment door was unlocked.
Inside, drawers had been opened.
Papers covered the floor.
The place looked searched rather than robbed.
The officer moved room to room.
I stood in the hallway.
Then I saw a photograph on the floor.
It showed Robert.
He was younger.
Standing beside Victor Hale.
And behind them was Thomas.
I picked it up.
On the back was a date.
The date of my fortieth birthday.
My stomach dropped.
Thomas had known my family far longer than I realized.
The officer took the photograph.
"We need to find your daughter."
I nodded.
Then my phone buzzed.
A message.
From Emily.
"Mom, don't come looking for me. Thomas has the ledger."
I stared at the words.
Then another message arrived.
"He says Dad hid something worth more than money."
Click here to continue reading: PART 7: The Missing Ledger Revealed Why Robert Had Been Afraid, While Daniel Finally Admitted the Part He Played in My Birthday Trap
On the Birthday Everyone Forgot, a Stranger Walked Into My Quiet Evening and Made Me Feel Seen Again
Part 6 of 8
