I stared at David’s message until the words blurred.
Emily Reed is not safe if Peter finds her first.
Rachel read it over my shoulder.
“How does he know her name?”
“That is what I intend to find out.”
I called David.
He answered before the first ring finished.
“Where are you?”
“That isn't your concern.”
“Sarah, this isn't a game.”
“No. It stopped being a game when I found my forged signature.”
“Listen to me. You need to stay away from Emily until we know who else is watching her.”
Rachel’s expression sharpened.
I put the call on speaker.
“You knew about Emily before today.”
Silence.
“David.”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“Peter.”
Of course.
“When?”
“Last year.”
“Before Mom died?”
“Yes.”
I looked at my mother’s handwritten inventory again.
She had moved the discrepancy pages because she trusted none of the men involved.
Perhaps she had known exactly how close they were getting.
“What did Peter tell you?”
“That Thomas Reed had a daughter.”
“That cannot be all.”
David exhaled.
“He thought Thomas may have left records with family.”
“And he wanted you to find them.”
“He wanted information.”
“So you investigated her.”
“I looked her up.”
“Did you contact her?”
“No.”
“Did Peter?”
“I don't know.”
Rachel wrote something on her legal pad.
I asked, “How did Peter know Emily existed?”
“Public records.”
“That isn't an answer. Anyone can find a name. Why did she matter?”
David remained quiet long enough that I knew the next answer would cost him.
“Because Daniel Vance had been trying to locate Thomas’s missing documents before he died.”
“Daniel died years ago.”
“Yes.”
“So Peter inherited the search.”
“Maybe.”
“Maybe?”
“I don't know what his father told him.”
“You seem to know plenty when it benefits you.”
He ignored that.
“Sarah, if Evelyn sent something to Emily, Peter will want it.”
“I already know that.”
“No, you don't.”
His voice became urgent.
“You think Peter wants proof he is owed money. It is bigger than that.”
I looked at Rachel.
“Explain.”
“When I met him the first time, he told me Thomas’s records could expose people who are still alive.”
“What people?”
“He never gave me names.”
“And you kept working with him?”
“I needed financing.”
There it was again.
Need as absolution.
I looked around the storage unit.
Boxes filled with the remains of decisions people had made while telling themselves they had no choice.
“What did Peter say the records contained?”
“Offshore accounts. Investor side agreements. Political donations. Private settlements.”
“From twenty-five years ago?”
“Some structures continued long after Carter Meridian was sold.”
My mother had written that Daniel’s influence extended beyond the company.
Perhaps the sale had ended one corporate entity without ending the financial network behind it.
“Did Mom know this?”
“I think she started to.”
“How?”
“Michael.”
I gripped the phone harder.
“What did Michael tell her?”
“I wasn't there.”
“You always have enough information to create another question.”
“Sarah, I am trying to help you.”
“No. You're trying to stay necessary.”
He went silent.
I had finally identified the pattern.
Every time David’s control weakened, he revealed one more secret.
Never the whole truth.
Just enough that I still needed him for the next answer.
I said, “Tell me everything you know about Emily Reed now.”
He sighed.
“She works in compliance.”
“For whom?”
“A regional bank outside Chicago.”
“That makes sense.”
Thomas Reed’s daughter had become someone whose career revolved around financial rules.
“What else?”
“She lives alone. Divorced. No children. She handled her mother Margaret’s finances before Margaret died two years ago.”
“Margaret was Thomas’s wife?”
“Yes.”
“Did you ever visit Emily?”
“No.”
“Did Peter ask you to?”
“Yes.”
“What did you say?”
“I refused.”
I almost laughed.
“You want credit?”
“No.”
“Why did you refuse?”
“Because by then I knew who Peter’s father was.”
“Yet you continued taking his financing.”
“I've already admitted that was wrong.”
“No. You have admitted it was dangerous.”
He went quiet.
That difference mattered.
Rachel tapped the address written on her pad.
“We should verify Emily is safe before going there.”
I nodded.
I asked David, “Has Peter contacted Emily recently?”
“I don't know.”
“When did he last mention her?”
“A week ago.”
My skin prickled.
“What did he say?”
“He asked whether Evelyn had ever spoken about the Reeds.”
“And?”
“I said no.”
“Was that true?”
“At the time.”
“What changed?”
“You just told me Evelyn sent something to Emily.”
I froze.
I had not.
Not on the call.
I looked at Rachel.
She noticed too.
“David,” I said quietly, “how do you know Mom sent something to Emily?”
Silence.
Then a curse.
“You told me.”
“No.”
“I assumed—”
“No. I told you nothing about the trunk.”
He stopped talking.
The storage unit seemed suddenly too exposed.
I looked toward the corridor.
“Who told you?”
“Sarah.”
“Who?”
“Peter.”
Rachel stood.
We both understood at the same moment.
Peter knew about the trunk.
He knew before I did.
“When?” I asked.
“Ten minutes ago.”
“How?”
“He called me.”
“What did he say exactly?”
“He asked whether you had gone to Lakeshore. Then he said if you found the Reed connection, you needed to stay out of it.”
My stomach turned.
“Peter knows we're here.”
“I think so.”
Rachel was already gathering the photographed records.
“Ask how.”
I did.
David said, “I don't know.”
“Did you tell him where I was?”
“No.”
“Did Brenda?”
“No.”
“Then someone else did.”
The storage manager.
Samuel’s office.
Michael.
Or Peter had simply followed the trail we were following.
I ended the call.
Rachel immediately called Samuel.
“We need someone to contact Emily directly and confirm her safety without giving away why.”
Samuel arranged for a private investigator who already worked with the estate to make the call.
While we waited, I searched Emily’s name online.
Her professional profile appeared first.
Emily Margaret Reed.
Senior compliance officer.
A photograph showed a woman with dark blond hair, direct eyes and a composed expression.
She looked nothing like the frightened child I had imagined.
She looked capable.
That comforted me slightly.
Then I saw a conference biography from six months earlier.
Emily had spoken on a panel about financial fraud.
The title of her presentation made me sit back.
Why Old Records Still Matter: Detecting Hidden Liabilities Across Corporate Generations.
Rachel read it.
“That is either coincidence or your mother chose her very carefully.”
“My mother didn't believe in coincidence.”
Neither did I anymore.
The investigator called Samuel back.
Emily had not answered her phone.
Her employer said she had taken the day off.
Her car was registered at her address.
No one had seen her that morning.
I felt fear move through me.
“We're going there.”
Rachel nodded.
“We'll request a local officer for a welfare check.”
“I don't want police arriving first and frightening her if she is simply home.”
“We don't know whether she is simply home.”
She was right.
We compromised.
Rachel contacted a retired detective used by the firm who could reach the address before us.
We left the storage facility.
I drove behind Rachel.
At the first traffic light, David called again.
I ignored it.
Then Brenda.
I answered.
“Sarah.”
Her voice sounded strained.
“What happened?”
“David left.”
“Where?”
“He wouldn't tell me.”
“Did he take the scanner?”
“Yes.”
My grip tightened on the steering wheel.
“Brenda, listen carefully. Lock the office. Do not let anyone into the house.”
“Is Jason coming?”
“Not unless I tell you.”
“What about David?”
I hesitated.
It was still his home too.
“Do not interfere physically if he comes back. Call me. Call Samuel. Photograph anything he removes if you safely can.”
She whispered, “What is happening?”
“I don't know yet.”
“That scares me.”
“It should.”
I hated saying it.
But softening reality had created enough damage.
A new message arrived from Michael.
Peter contacted me.
I called him.
“What did he want?”
“The ledger.”
“What did you say?”
“No.”
“Did he mention Emily?”
Silence.
“Michael.”
“Yes.”
My chest tightened.
“What did he say?”
“That Evelyn made a mistake involving Thomas’s family.”
“What does that mean?”
“He wouldn't explain.”
“Did you tell him I know about Emily?”
“No.”
“Did you know Mom sent her the trunk?”
Another pause.
“No.”
I almost believed him.
Almost.
Then he said, “But it makes sense.”
“How?”
“Evelyn trusted Margaret Reed.”
That was new.
“You told me she barely knew Thomas’s family.”
“I said very little because there was very little I could prove.”
“You knew Margaret?”
“Yes.”
“How well?”
“After Thomas died, Evelyn helped her.”
“The education trust.”
“Yes.”
“Anything else?”
“She helped Margaret relocate.”
“Why?”
“Because Margaret was frightened.”
“Of Daniel?”
“We thought so.”
“Did she ever say?”
“No.”
Michael’s uncertainty sounded genuine.
I asked, “Could Margaret have known what Thomas discovered?”
“Probably.”
“Did she ever have the ledger?”
“No. I kept it.”
“What might she have had?”
“Thomas kept copies.”
The answer hit me.
“Copies of what?”
“I never knew.”
Before I could ask more, Rachel called.
I switched lines.
“Our investigator is at Emily’s address.”
“And?”
“Front door is open.”
My stomach dropped.
“Open how?”
“Unlocked and partially ajar.”
“Is anyone inside?”
“He hasn't entered.”
“Police?”
“Already called.”
We were fourteen minutes away.
Those fourteen minutes lasted longer than the entire morning.
When we arrived, two police vehicles were parked along the curb.
The house was small, brick, carefully maintained.
No broken windows.
No obvious damage.
An officer spoke with Rachel.
I stayed near the driveway.
After several minutes, she returned.
“Emily isn't inside.”
“Signs of a struggle?”
“No.”
“Anything missing?”
“They can't determine that yet.”
“Her car?”
“In the garage.”
I looked at the open front door.
“Where is she?”
“No one knows.”
My phone vibrated.
Unknown number.
Chicago area code.
I answered.
“Hello?”
A woman whispered, “Sarah Carter?”
I straightened.
“Yes.”
“This is Emily Reed.”
I turned away from the officers.
“Where are you?”
“Somewhere safe.”
“Are you hurt?”
“No.”
“Someone is at your house.”
“I know.”
“Who?”
“I left before they arrived.”
“They?”
Silence.
“Emily, my mother sent you something.”
“I know.”
“A trunk.”
“Yes.”
“What was inside?”
“Not over the phone.”
I closed my eyes.
“Do you have the pages she removed from CMH-17?”
Another silence.
“Yes.”
Relief and fear hit together.
“Peter Vance knows.”
“I know.”
“How?”
“Because he came to my office three days ago.”
My blood ran cold.
“What did he want?”
“The same thing everyone eventually wants.”
“What?”
“Thomas Reed’s evidence.”
“Your father's records?”
“Yes.”
“Did you give him anything?”
“No.”
“Did you tell my mother?”
“Your mother was already dead.”
Right.
Six months.
My sense of time had collapsed.
“What did Peter say?”
“That Evelyn had left me something that didn't belong to me.”
“Did he threaten you?”
“Not directly.”
“Then why did you leave your house?”
Emily’s voice became colder.
“Because yesterday someone broke into my office.”
I looked at the police cars.
“What was taken?”
“Nothing.”
That sounded familiar.
The break-in at my childhood home.
Nothing valuable taken.
Only papers disturbed.
“What were they looking for?”
“You already know.”
“Emily, I need to see you.”
“I need to know whether I can trust you.”
“You don't know me.”
“No.”
“And I don't know you.”
“That is why your mother left instructions.”
“What instructions?”
“She said before I showed you anything, I should ask you one question.”
My throat tightened.
“What question?”
Emily paused.
Then said, “Your mother wanted to know whether, when you learned the truth about David, you protected him or yourself.”
I looked down the quiet suburban street.
The answer came without hesitation.
“Myself.”
Emily breathed out.
“Then she said I could trust you.”
Click here to continue reading: PART 14: Emily Reed Opened My Mother’s Trunk, and the Missing Pages Proved Someone Had Rewritten Carter Meridian’s Financial History
Before Sunrise, My Mother-in-Law Came for My Mother’s Fortune—and My Husband Was Already Waiting for Her
Part 13 of 26
