Chapter 8 - The Accident That Wasn’t Supposed to Happen
Mason agreed to speak with investigators.
Not because he suddenly developed a conscience.
Because he was terrified.
He told Ramirez that Teresa had originally planned to obtain control of my finances through emotional pressure.
First, push Amy out.
Then convince me I was overwhelmed.
Then slowly make herself indispensable.
The sedatives were supposed to make signing documents easier.
But Leonard Crane wanted faster results.
According to Mason, Leonard had said forged signatures might eventually be challenged.
A medical incapacity would be stronger.
I felt sick listening.
“What kind of incapacity?”
Mason looked at the table.
“A car accident.”
Amy gripped my hand.
Mason continued.
“It wasn’t supposed to kill you.”
“That’s what Teresa said.”
“She said you’d get hurt.”
“Maybe spend a few weeks in the hospital.”
“Then she could use the power of attorney.”
I stood so quickly my chair hit the wall.
“You were planning to crash my car?”
Mason shook his head.
“Not me.”
“Leonard knew people.”
Ramirez ordered me to sit down.
I did.
Barely.
Mason explained that the plan changed because I came home early on Frederick’s birthday.
Leonard had been parked nearby.
If I had left the house alone after discovering Amy was gone, someone was supposed to follow me.
My mother expected me to be angry.
Distracted.
Possibly drinking.
The staged accident would look believable.
But Amy never disappeared.
The police arrived.
And the plan fell apart.
I stared at Mason.
“What was supposed to happen to my son?”
He looked confused.
“Nothing.”
“The fake letter?”
“That was supposed to make you think Amy took him.”
“Where would Frederick actually be?”
“With Teresa.”
My blood froze.
“She planned to hide my child?”
“Only for a few hours.”
I nearly lunged across the table.
Ramirez stepped between us.
Mason raised both hands.
“I said it was crazy.”
“But you still helped.”
He had no response.
Then Ramirez asked about the four hundred thousand dollars.
Mason finally revealed the motive.
Teresa had become obsessed with high-risk property investments.
Leonard convinced her she could make millions flipping distressed houses.
She borrowed heavily.
Several projects failed.
Instead of stopping, she borrowed more.
She used family members’ names.
Fake documents.
And eventually my financial information.
By the time she realized the investments were collapsing, she owed Leonard and two other lenders nearly four hundred thousand dollars.
My house became her escape.
Its equity could cover most of the debt.
My savings could cover the rest.
There was one problem.
I owned everything.
So she decided that problem was me.
When the interview ended, Ramirez pulled me aside.
“We’ve located Leonard’s SUV.”
“Where?”
“Abandoned near a private airfield.”
My heart raced.
“Did he leave the country?”
“We don’t know.”
Then Ramirez held out his phone.
Airport security had captured a man entering the terminal.
It was Leonard.
But he wasn’t alone.
The woman beside him was wearing sunglasses and carrying a passport.
It was Gloria.
And between them walked someone I had not expected to see.
Elaine Porter.
May you like
The missing notary.
All three were traveling together.
