For several seconds after the call ended, nobody in the car spoke.
Daniel kept the dead phone pressed to his ear as if Michael might return simply because he refused to lower it.
Dad stared straight ahead.
The highway stretched under the headlights in two pale lanes bordered by frozen fields and black trees. Snow from the previous week lay in hard gray ridges along the shoulder.
Sebastian finally broke the silence.
“Call him back.”
Daniel already was.
The call went directly to voicemail.
Again.
Voicemail.
Again.
Nothing.
Dad leaned forward from the passenger seat.
“Try another number.”
“There isn’t another number.”
“Then call the police.”
“I am.”
Daniel connected with the detective who had been coordinating with Wisconsin authorities. He gave them everything: Michael’s call, Grant Voss’s name, the impact we had heard, the Lake Geneva property, and our current location.
The detective’s reaction changed when Daniel said Grant’s full name.
“You know him?” Daniel asked.
The detective did not answer directly.
He instructed us to stop driving toward the property and wait at a public location until local law enforcement met us.
Dad immediately shook his head.
“No.”
Daniel looked at him.
“Arthur.”
“My brother just called after being missing for three months.”
“I know.”
“He said someone was there.”
“I heard him.”
“And you think I’m sitting in a parking lot?”
Daniel lowered the phone.
“That is exactly what the police are asking us to do.”
Dad turned toward him.
“For twenty-eight years, everybody decided what I was allowed to know about Michael. My mother. Rebecca. Michael himself. I’m not letting a stranger decide now whether I’m allowed to see him.”
Daniel stared at him.
Then looked away.
I understood both of them.
Dad’s urgency came from lost time.
Daniel’s caution came from the possibility of losing whatever time remained.
Eleanor had been silent since hearing Grant Voss’s name.
I noticed her gripping a stack of Grandma’s documents too tightly.
“You know more about him than you said.”
She looked at me.
“Yes.”
“How much?”
“Enough to know the detective was right.”
Dad turned.
“Who is he?”
Eleanor glanced toward Sebastian.
“Pull over somewhere lit.”
He found a twenty-four-hour gas station a few miles ahead.
We parked beneath harsh white lights beside two snowplows.
Eleanor waited until Sebastian turned off the engine.
“Grant Voss worked with your grandmother.”
Dad stared.
“In what capacity?”
“Not officially.”
“What does that mean?”
“He arranged private financing for property investors in the nineties.”
Daniel leaned forward.
“Hard-money lending?”
“Among other things.”
“Legal?”
“Sometimes.”
That single word changed the atmosphere.
Eleanor continued.
“Evelyn first encountered him through Michael.”
Dad’s jaw tightened.
“The construction accident.”
“Yes.”
Grant had been connected to the company that employed Michael when the accident occurred.
Not as an owner.
Not on paper.
But he had financed several projects and knew the people responsible for hiding safety violations.
“He had the records Rebecca later used to threaten Michael,” Eleanor said.
“So Mom got them from Grant.”
“I believe so.”
“Why would he give them to her?”
“He didn’t.”
Eleanor’s expression hardened.
“She stole copies.”
Dad stared.
“From him?”
“Yes.”
Rebecca had apparently met Grant through Michael during the summer of 1998.
She learned what Grant possessed.
Then she acquired copies without his permission.
“How?” I asked.
“I don’t know.”
Dad gave a bitter laugh.
“It seems there are very few things she couldn’t obtain when she wanted them badly enough.”
Eleanor did not disagree.
“What happened after Michael left?” Daniel asked.
“Grant discovered the documents were missing. He traced them to Rebecca.”
“And blackmailed her?”
“Eventually.”
“At first?”
Eleanor hesitated.
“At first he tried to recruit her.”
Sebastian frowned.
“For what?”
“Moving money.”
Nobody spoke.
Eleanor explained that Grant specialized in transactions designed to disguise ownership.
Loans secured by assets that technically belonged to someone else.
Properties transferred through relatives.
Shell companies.
Private debt that never appeared in ordinary credit reports.
The pattern sounded painfully familiar.
“He taught her,” I said.
Eleanor nodded reluctantly.
“Some of it.”
Dad looked sick.
“So Rebecca’s financial games weren’t just overspending.”
“No.”
“Why didn’t my mother stop her?”
“Evelyn tried.”
“How?”
“She restricted Rebecca’s access to the trust.”
Dad stared toward the windshield.
“And Rebecca forged her way back in.”
“That appears to be what happened.”
Daniel checked his phone.
No call.
No message.
“What does Grant want now?”
Eleanor looked at Grandma’s documents.
“The same thing he has probably wanted for years.”
“Control?”
“Proof.”
“Proof of what?”
“That Evelyn knew.”
Dad frowned.
“Knew what?”
“About his transactions. About Rebecca’s involvement. About Michael.”
I looked at her.
“Grandma collected evidence.”
“Yes.”
“The safe-deposit box.”
“Some of it.”
Daniel’s voice tightened.
“Some?”
Eleanor looked toward the road.
“Evelyn told me she kept the most dangerous records at Lake Geneva.”
Nobody moved.
Dad whispered, “In the house.”
“Yes.”
That explained Mom’s panic.
The forged property transfer.
The effort to move the house out of the trust.
The development fight.
Everything circled that property because Grandma had hidden more than sentimental memories there.
Daniel checked the map.
“We’re twenty-six minutes away.”
Eleanor shook her head.
“The police told us to wait.”
Dad opened his door.
“We’ve waited.”
I caught him before he could step out.
“Dad.”
He turned.
“If Michael is hurt, charging in helps nobody.”
His expression broke.
“What if he’s dying?”
The question silenced me.
Sebastian looked through the windshield.
“Then we get close enough to know what’s happening, but we don’t walk into the house blind.”
Daniel nodded.
“That’s the best compromise we’re getting.”
Eleanor closed her eyes briefly.
“This family has an extraordinary talent for turning legal advice into suggestions.”
We continued north.
The landscape changed as we approached the lake.
Roads narrowed.
Houses became larger but farther apart.
Snow-covered woods pressed close to the pavement.
Daniel directed Sebastian onto a private road bordered by stone pillars.
“This development used to be much smaller.”
Dad looked out the window.
“I haven’t been here since 1998.”
The words seemed strange.
He had been absent from this place almost exactly as long as Michael had been absent from his life.
The Lake Geneva property sat beyond a bend in the road.
Before we could see the house, Sebastian slowed.
“What?”
He pointed ahead.
A dark car was parked sideways across part of the road.
No lights.
No driver visible.
Daniel immediately said, “Stop.”
Sebastian braked fifty yards away.
Dad reached for the door.
Daniel grabbed his shoulder.
“No.”
“What?”
“That’s Raymond’s car.”
My stomach tightened.
We had seen it outside Dad’s house.
Same dark SUV.
Same plate.
Sebastian put the car in reverse.
Then headlights appeared behind us.
Another vehicle turned onto the private road.
We were boxed in.
Eleanor whispered, “Keep the doors locked.”
The vehicle behind us stopped.
Nobody emerged.
Daniel called 911.
He gave the dispatcher our location.
Then the dark SUV ahead switched on its headlights.
The beam flooded our windshield.
I could barely see beyond it.
Dad shielded his eyes.
“Someone’s inside.”
Daniel stared.
“That car was empty ten seconds ago.”
A figure stepped out from behind the SUV.
Not Raymond.
Older.
Tall.
Heavy coat.
Hands visible.
Daniel whispered, “Grant.”
Eleanor went pale.
“How do you know?”
“I’ve seen photographs.”
Grant Voss walked slowly toward us.
He stopped twenty feet away.
Then raised one hand.
Not threatening.
Almost conversational.
Daniel lowered the window barely an inch.
“Where’s Michael?”
Grant smiled.
Even from inside the car, I could see how calm he looked.
“Daniel.”
“Where is my father?”
“You should have stayed out of family business.”
Daniel’s voice hardened.
“He is my family.”
Grant’s gaze shifted through the windshield until it found me.
“Chloe.”
I hated hearing my name in his mouth.
“What do you want?”
“The documents Evelyn left you.”
“Why?”
“Because they belong to me.”
“They belong to the trust.”
His expression barely changed.
“Your grandmother stole records.”
“From you?”
“Yes.”
Eleanor leaned forward.
“She preserved evidence.”
Grant saw her.
“Eleanor Price.”
His smile disappeared.
“You’re still alive.”
Eleanor’s face hardened.
“So are you.”
Something passed between them.
History.
Grant looked back at me.
“Give me Evelyn’s notebook and everything from the box.”
I thought of the small handwritten notebook we had taken from the bank.
It sat inside Eleanor’s leather bag.
“You followed us there.”
“Yes.”
“Why not take it then?”
“Too many cameras.”
At least he was honest.
Daniel spoke sharply.
“Where is Michael?”
Grant ignored him.
Dad leaned toward the window.
“Tell me where my brother is.”
Grant finally looked at him.
“You’re Arthur.”
“Yes.”
“You look like him.”
Dad’s face tightened.
“Where?”
Grant glanced toward the house somewhere beyond the bend.
“He made his own choices.”
Dad shoved at the door.
Daniel held it closed.
“Arthur.”
Grant smiled again.
“He always was impatient.”
Dad nearly exploded.
“You don’t get to talk about him like you know him.”
“I knew him better than you did.”
That landed exactly where Grant intended.
Dad went still.
Grant continued.
“Michael understood what your mother did. What Rebecca did. What everyone did.”
“Stop talking.”
“He spent half his life hiding because none of you had the courage to face the truth.”
Dad unbuckled his seatbelt.
I grabbed his arm.
“Don’t give him what he wants.”
Grant’s eyes shifted to me.
“You’re smarter than your father.”
Dad actually laughed.
“Most people are tonight.”
Grant’s smile faded.
“Give me the notebook.”
I looked at Eleanor.
“What’s in it?”
Grant answered before she could.
“Names.”
“Whose?”
“People who would prefer not to be named.”
“Illegal transactions?”
“Old business.”
“Then why do you care?”
“Because old business can still ruin new lives.”
I understood.
Grant had survived for decades because nobody had assembled enough evidence to expose him.
Grandma had.
Michael had come back for it.
Mom had tried to erase it.
And now Grant needed it before authorities reached him.
Sirens sounded faintly in the distance.
Grant heard them.
His expression changed for the first time.
“Last chance.”
Daniel leaned toward the window.
“Bring Michael out.”
Grant looked at him.
“Ask Rebecca.”
Daniel froze.
“What does that mean?”
Grant stepped backward.
“You think I brought him here?”
“Didn’t you?”
Grant laughed softly.
“No.”
He turned toward the woods.
Dad shouted.
“Where is he?”
Grant paused.
Then looked back.
“Your wife called him.”
Dad stared.
“Rebecca?”
“She told Michael she wanted to confess.”
My blood went cold.
Grant continued.
“She arranged the meeting.”
Dad whispered, “Why?”
Grant looked at me.
“Because Michael found the one thing she couldn’t let Arthur see.”
“What?”
Grant smiled.
Then headlights moved between the trees behind him.
Not police.
Another car.
Fast.
Grant stepped aside.
A sedan came around the bend toward the house.
We recognized it immediately.
Mom’s car.
Sebastian whispered, “She was supposed to be with police.”
Apparently not anymore.
She drove past Grant without slowing.
Dad stared.
“What the hell is she doing?”
Daniel reached for the door.
Then we heard a sound from the direction of the house.
One sharp crack.
Then another.
Gunshots.
Dad tore free of my grip.
He opened the door and ran.
“Dad!”
Daniel jumped out after him.
Sebastian swore and followed.
Eleanor grabbed my wrist.
“Chloe, no.”
Another shot echoed through the trees.
I looked toward the road.
Grant Voss was gone.
Then my phone vibrated.
A message from an unknown number.
One line.
YOUR MOTHER IS NOT TRYING TO KILL MICHAEL.
A second message arrived.
SHE IS TRYING TO STOP HIM FROM SHOWING ARTHUR WHAT HAPPENED TO THE BABY.
Click here to continue reading: PART 10: The Lake House Held Michael Alive, But A Locked Nursery And One Missing Birth Record Revealed Mom Had Lied About Daniel’s Adoption Too
Christmas Dinner Was Almost Over When My Parents Told Me To Leave, Then Mom Asked The Question Dad Was Never Supposed To Hear
Part 9 of 40
