Chapter 4: The Secret Inside the Locked Drawer
I read the message six times before I showed it to Samantha.
By the seventh, my hands had stopped shaking.
Not because I was no longer afraid.
Because someone had just threatened my newborn daughter, and whatever fear I had left was beginning to turn into something else.
Samantha arrived at the hospital forty minutes later, carrying a leather briefcase and wearing the expression she usually reserved for people who had made a very expensive mistake.
She read both messages without sitting down.
"Did you recognize the number?"" she asked.
"No.""
"Have you responded?""
"No.""
"Good. Don't delete anything.""
She photographed the screen with her own phone, then asked the nurse to document the messages in my medical record. After that, she pulled a chair beside my bed.
"Emily, I need you to understand something. A threatening message doesn't prove that the sender had anything to do with Lucas's death. But it does mean we should stop treating these events as separate problems.""
I looked at her.
"You think they're connected?""
"I think someone is frightened by what Lucas left behind.""
"Then why didn't he tell me?""
Samantha's expression softened.
"Perhaps he was trying to protect you.""
"Everyone keeps saying that. My father says he was protecting me. Daniel says he was protecting the company. And whoever sent these messages thinks threatening my baby will make me stop asking questions.""
I gripped the edge of my blanket.
"I'm tired of people deciding what I can handle.""
"Then we'll make the decisions together.""
She opened her briefcase and took out a notepad.
"First, we need to establish what happened to the house. Second, we'll investigate the insurance alteration. Third, we need to recover whatever Lucas left in his office.""
"Can we go there today?""
"No.""
"Samantha—"
"You gave birth prematurely after a serious incident. Your doctor hasn't cleared you to leave, and your daughter is in intensive care. I won't put either of you at unnecessary risk.""
I looked away.
She waited until I turned back.
"But I can send someone to retrieve the documents," she continued.
"Someone independent. Someone Charles doesn't know.""
"Who?""
"An investigator I work with. His name is Michael Grant. He used to investigate financial fraud for a federal agency. Now he works privately.""
"Can he be trusted?""
"He's worked with me for twelve years.""
I nodded.
"Then get him.""
Samantha wrote something down.
"There's another issue. Charles filed a notice with the county claiming that he had authority to manage Lucas's estate. He also submitted paperwork suggesting that you agreed to sell your interest in the house.""
"Can he actually take it?""
"Not based on what I've seen. But fraudulent filings can cause real problems before they're corrected. I'm submitting a formal objection and requesting that the property records be flagged while we investigate.""
"What about the life insurance?""
"The company has agreed to preserve its records. No payment will be released until the beneficiary dispute is resolved.""
I exhaled.
At least one thing had stopped moving in my father's favor.
Then Samantha leaned forward.
"Emily, I want you to tell me everything you remember about Lucas's final week. Every unusual phone call, every visitor, every argument. Even details that seem unimportant.""
I closed my eyes.
I remembered Lucas pacing through the living room while talking to someone in a low voice.
I remembered a stack of envelopes on his desk.
I remembered him asking whether I'd seen his blue notebook.
And I remembered the night before the accident.
He had come into the nursery carrying a small cardboard box.
"What's that?"" I'd asked.
"A little insurance policy.""
I laughed.
"Another one?""
"Not that kind.""
He placed the box on the changing table and checked the door.
That was unusual. Lucas had never been secretive with me.
"Are you okay?"" I asked.
He kissed my forehead.
"I'm fine.""
"That's not an answer.""
He looked toward the hallway.
"Em, if anything strange happens with the business, I need you to trust Samantha.""
I had frowned.
"Why would something strange happen?""
"Because people get greedy when they think no one's watching.""
"Lucas, you're scaring me.""
He took my hands.
"Listen. You don't need to understand every detail. That's why we have a lawyer. But if anyone comes asking you to sign anything after I'm gone, you call Samantha first.""
I had slapped his arm lightly.
"Don't say after you're gone.""
He immediately pulled me into a hug.
"I'm sorry.""
Then he knelt in front of my stomach and spoke to our daughter.
"Your dad is an idiot sometimes, little bean. But he loves you more than anything.""
I had laughed.
He had kissed my stomach.
And that was the last conversation we ever had about the possibility of losing him.
When I finished telling Samantha, she wrote for nearly a minute without speaking.
"Did you ever see the box again?""
"No.""
"What did it look like?""
"Brown cardboard. About the size of a shoebox.""
"Was it locked?""
"I don't think so.""
She closed her notebook.
"That may be what we're looking for.""
Before she could say more, my phone rang.
My father's name appeared on the screen.
I stared at it until Samantha nodded.
"Put it on speaker.""
I answered.
"What do you want?""
"Emily, thank God."" Charles sounded breathless, as though he'd been searching for me all morning.
"I've been trying to reach you.""
"You know where I am.""
"I wanted to make sure you're all right.""
"Now you care?""
There was a pause.
"Don't be dramatic.""
Samantha's eyes narrowed.
I swallowed the anger rising in my throat.
"You dragged me out of my house while I was pregnant.""
"You were behaving irrationally.""
"My water broke on the porch.""
"I didn't know that was going to happen.""
"You laughed.""
"I did not.""
I looked at Samantha.
She silently gestured toward the phone, encouraging me to continue.
"Why are you calling, Dad?""
"Because you've been talking to that lawyer, and she's filling your head with nonsense.""
"She's explaining my rights.""
"She's trying to take control of the estate. You don't understand how complicated Lucas's finances are.""
"Then explain them.""
"I don't have time to walk you through every detail.""
"Funny. You had time to drag me across the kitchen.""
His breathing grew heavier.
"Listen to me, Emily. I know you're upset. You're grieving, you're exhausted, and you have a premature baby. This is not the time to make accusations.""
"Then stop giving me reasons to make them.""
He lowered his voice.
"Sign the authorization papers, and we can put all of this behind us.""
Samantha shook her head sharply.
I leaned closer to the phone.
"What authorization papers?""
"The estate documents. You sign them, I handle the debts, and you can concentrate on your child.""
"You mean the papers with my forged signature?""
"Don't use that word.""
"Then tell me whose signature it is.""
Silence.
Then he said, "You have no idea what Lucas left behind.""
My heart pounded.
"What did he leave behind?""
"Problems. Big ones.""
"Such as?""
"Emily, I am trying to save you.""
"No. You're trying to make me afraid.""
He sighed as if I were a difficult employee.
"You always did have your mother's stubbornness.""
The mention of my mother landed like a slap.
"Don't talk about Mom.""
"She would be ashamed of how you're behaving.""
Samantha's expression hardened.
I sat straighter despite the pain in my abdomen.
"My mother would be ashamed of the man who threw his pregnant daughter onto a porch.""
"Enough!""
His shout crackled through the speaker.
For a moment, I was twelve years old again, standing in our old kitchen while he slammed his fist against the table.
Then I heard Samantha whisper, "Keep him talking.""
I took a breath.
"Why did you change Lucas's insurance policy?""
A long silence followed.
"What?""
"The policy. Why did you change the beneficiary?""
"I have no idea what you're talking about.""
"Daniel says you had the paperwork.""
"Daniel is a liar.""
"Then why did you have the original documents?""
"I was helping with the estate!""
"Why?""
"Because somebody had to!""
The answer came too quickly.
Samantha began writing.
I leaned closer.
"Who told you to change the beneficiary?""
My father stopped breathing for a moment.
Then the call ended.
I stared at the screen.
Samantha looked at me.
"He didn't hang up because he was angry," she said.
"He hung up because you asked the right question.""
She gathered her papers and stood.
"I'm calling Michael now.""
As she reached the door, I called after her.
"Samantha?""
She turned.
"If Lucas left something in that drawer, I want to know what it is.""
"You will.""
"And if it proves my father did this?""
Her face became very still.
"Then we'll make sure the truth is heard in the right place, with the right evidence.""
She left.
I sat alone until a nurse came to take me back to see my daughter.
My little girl was awake, her eyes barely open beneath the soft hospital lights. She moved one tiny hand against the blanket.
I touched the incubator with my fingertips.
"Your grandfather thinks I'm weak," I whispered.
"He thinks he can frighten me into giving him whatever he wants.""
My daughter stretched her fingers.
I smiled through my tears.
"He doesn't know your mother very well.""
At 6:18 that evening, Samantha sent me a photograph.
It showed Lucas's office, with the desk drawers pulled open and papers scattered across the floor.
Someone had been there before Michael.
Beneath the photograph was a message.
The drawer has been forced. The box is missing.
I called her immediately.
"Who got there first?""
"We don't know.""
"Charles?""
"Possibly.""
"Then everything is gone?""
"No. Michael found something else.""
She sent another photograph.
A small white envelope lay on the floor beneath Lucas's desk.
My name was written across it in Lucas's handwriting.
Inside, Samantha told me, was a single sentence.
If you're reading this, it means someone has already tried to take what belongs to you.
And beneath that sentence, Lucas had written a name.
Not Charles.
Not Courtney.
Not Daniel.
A name I hadn't heard in years.
A name belonging to the one person my father had spent my entire childhood warning me never to trust.
May you like
My mother's brother.
My Uncle Robert.
