Chapter 6: The Name on the Bank Statement
I thought the worst thing my mother could tell me was that she had stolen our savings.
I was wrong.
“Who?””
Teresa sat at the dining table.
Her hands were folded tightly in front of her.
“I can't tell you.””
“You just did.””
“No.””
“You said you gave the money to someone Dad warned you about.””
“I was desperate.””
“Who?””
She looked at Amy.
“Tell him.””
Amy shook her head.
“I don't know his name.””
“You met him.””
“I saw him once.””
“Who was he?””
Amy looked at me.
“Your father's lawyer.””
I frowned.
“My father's lawyer died years ago.””
“Not him.””
She swallowed.
“The other one.””
I stared.
“Dad had two lawyers?””
“Your father had a private financial adviser,” Amy said.
“Who?””
“Michael Vance.””
The name hit me.
I knew it.
Not personally.
From my childhood.
Michael Vance had been the man who came to our house every Christmas with expensive gifts for my father.
I remembered a silver watch.
A dark green Mercedes.
My father once telling me, “Never owe that man anything.””
I looked at Teresa.
“That's who Dad warned you about?””
She nodded.
“Why?””
“He knew about the trust.””
“And you gave him our money?””
“I had no choice.””
“You always have a choice.””
“He threatened me.””
“With what?””
Teresa's eyes filled.
“With the truth.””
I looked at Amy.
“What truth?””
Teresa stood.
“Your father didn't die from natural causes.””
The room went silent.
I laughed.
Not because it was funny.
Because my brain refused to accept it.
“Mom.””
“He was sick.””
“I know.””
“He had cancer.””
“I know.””
“He died in the hospital.””
“Yes.””
“Then what are you talking about?””
Teresa looked at me.
“He was poisoned.””
Amy covered her mouth.
I stepped backward.
“No.””
“I found out afterward.””
“You're lying.””
“I wish I were.””
“What does Michael Vance have to do with Dad's death?””
“He knew about the trust.””
“And?””
“Your father was going to expose him.””
“Expose him for what?””
Teresa looked toward the window.
“Stealing from clients.””
I felt dizzy.
“And Dad?””
“He found evidence.””
“Where?””
“In this house.””
My eyes moved toward the ceiling.
“The hidden box.””
She nodded.
“Your father kept copies of everything here.””
“Then why didn't the police find them?””
“Because I destroyed what I could.””
I stared at her.
“You destroyed evidence?””
“I was protecting myself.””
“From a murder investigation?””
“I didn't know who to trust.””
“You could have trusted me.””
She laughed through her tears.
“You were twenty-seven.””
“I was your son.””
“You were his son.””
The distinction cut deeper than she probably intended.
Amy stepped beside me.
“Connor.””
I looked at her.
“We need to leave.””
I nodded.
Then I heard something.
A faint metallic sound.
From upstairs.
A drawer opening.
I looked toward the staircase.
“Did you hear that?””
Amy nodded.
Teresa froze.
“No.””
“What?””
“Nothing.””
I walked upstairs.
“Connor, don't.””
I kept going.
The sound came from the locked room.
I opened the door.
The metal filing cabinet was open.
Papers were scattered across the floor.
I hadn't left it that way.
Someone had been searching it.
I turned.
“Mom?””
No answer.
Then I noticed the window.
It was open.
Curtains moved in the wind.
Someone had been here.
I searched the floor.
Under the cabinet was a folded bank statement.
I picked it up.
The account belonged to Teresa.
A transfer appeared near the bottom.
*$280,000 — BRADLEY FAMILY TRUST*
Destination:
*VANCE CONSULTING LLC*
Date:
Three days after Amy had supposedly given Teresa the money.
I felt sick.
I took a photograph.
Then another.
My phone buzzed.
A text from an unknown number.
*You shouldn't have opened the box.*
I stared at the screen.
Another message came.
*Your father made the same mistake.*
Amy came into the doorway.
“What is it?””
I showed her.
She read the messages.
Her hand covered her mouth.
Then the phone rang.
Unknown number.
I answered.
“Who is this?””
A man's voice replied.
“You know who this is.””
I recognized the voice.
Not from recently.
From childhood.
Deep.
Calm.
Unhurried.
“Michael?””
A pause.
Then:
“Hello, Connor.””
I looked at Teresa.
She was crying.
“Where are you?””
“Closer than you think.””
“What do you want?””
“What your father had.””
“I don't have anything.””
“You have the house.””
“The house isn't yours.””
“No.””
His voice hardened.
“But the trust is.””
I glanced at the documents.
“What did you do to my father?””
Silence.
Then Michael laughed softly.
“You've been asking the wrong question.””
“What question should I ask?””
“Ask your mother why she signed the death certificate.””
My blood froze.
“She wasn't the doctor.””
“No.””
“What are you talking about?””
“You'll find out.””
The call ended.
I stood motionless.
Amy whispered, “Connor…”
I turned toward Teresa.
“Why did he say you signed Dad's death certificate?””
She shook her head.
“I didn't.””
“He said you did.””
“I signed paperwork.””
“What paperwork?””
“I don't remember.””
“You don't remember?””
“I was grieving.””
I stepped closer.
“Mom.””
She began to cry.
“I didn't kill your father.””
“I didn't say you did.””
“But you think I did.””
“I don't know what to think.””
She sank onto the floor.
“I loved him.””
“Then why did you hide everything?””
“Because he asked me to.””
I stared at her.
“What?””
“He told me if anything happened to him, I had to protect you.””
“From Michael?””
“Yes.””
“By lying to me?””
“Yes.””
“That doesn't make sense.””
“It does when you know the rest.””
She looked up at me.
“Your father didn't put the house in the trust just to protect you from Michael.””
I waited.
“He put it there to protect you from me.””
Amy stepped closer.
“What does that mean?””
Teresa wiped her face.
“I had already signed an agreement.””
“What agreement?””
“With Michael.””
“For what?””
She hesitated.
Then she whispered:
“To give him the house if your father died.””
My heart stopped.
Amy grabbed my arm.
“Connor…”
Teresa's phone rang.
She looked at the screen.
Her face turned white.
I saw the name.
*Michael Vance.*
But before she could answer, my own phone received a new message.
This time it contained a photograph.
It showed my father.
Alive.
Standing outside our house.
The timestamp was dated *three days after the hospital recorded his death*.
May you like
And beneath the photograph were six words:
*Ask Amy where she saw him.*
