Chapter 4 - My Brother Finally Told the Truth
I called Michael six times.
He declined the first five.
On the sixth, someone answered but said nothing.
“Michael?”
Rain whispered against a window somewhere on his end.
“Where are you?”
“You need to stop.”
“Stop what?”
“The investigation.”
I nearly laughed. “Mom was beaten and framed.”
“I know.”
“Then give me Dana and Ross.”
“I can’t.”
“Can’t or won’t?”
His breath shook. “You think I’m protecting my wife.”
“Aren’t you?”
“No.”
The answer came so quickly I believed it.
That frightened me more.
“Where are you?”
He whispered, “Dad’s old church.”
St. Matthew’s had been closed for seven years, its congregation merged with another parish across town. The building remained because no developer wanted the cost of removing asbestos.
I told Naomi where I was going.
She said, “Absolutely not alone.”
“Agreed.”
We took two state vehicles and left Mom under guard at the hospital.
At 4:12 a.m., I entered the dark church through a side door. The air smelled of dust, wet stone, and old candle wax.
Michael sat in the third pew.
He looked ten years older than he had at the precinct.
“No Dana?” I asked.
He shook his head.
“Where is she?”
“I don’t know.”
“Ross?”
“I don’t know.”
I stayed standing.
“Start talking.”
Michael pressed both palms together.
“Four months ago, Dana found a letter Dad wrote to Mom.”
“How?”
“She was helping Mom clean the attic.”
“Meaning snooping.”
“Yes.”
“What letter?”
“He said if anything happened to him, Riverside was the reason.”
My chest tightened.
“He named people?”
“No. He mentioned ledger copies, contracts, photographs, and something called Project Lantern.”
Naomi, standing near the aisle, made a note.
Michael continued.
“Dana told Warren. Warren told her the documents could destroy families. She said we had to find them before some criminal did.”
“And you believed that?”
“At first.”
I stared at him.
He looked ashamed.
“Then Dana started acting weird. Taking calls outside. Meeting Victor.”
“Victor Sloane?”
“Yes.”
Victor had said Michael came to him.
Not Dana.
Another lie.
“What happened tonight?”
Michael swallowed.
“Dana said Mom had finally admitted where Dad hid the records. She wanted me to come over. I refused.”
“But you arrived.”
“Because she called me screaming.”
“What time?”
“About 1:40.”
“Then?”
“I drove there. Mom was on the floor.”
His voice cracked.
“Dana had the bat. She said Mom attacked her with a fireplace poker, so she defended herself.”
“Was there a poker?”
“No.”
“What did you do?”
“I took the bat.”
That was new.
“Where is it?”
His face changed.
“Warren took it.”
“When?”
“He came ten minutes later.”
“Before patrol.”
“Yes.”
“What did Warren say?”
“That Mom needed to be discredited immediately.”
Naomi and I exchanged a look.
“Immediately?” I repeated.
“He said if she went to a hospital first, doctors would ask too many questions. He told Dana to scratch herself. He told me if I didn’t support the story, I would go to prison too.”
“For what?”
Michael began crying.
Not theatrically.
The kind that makes the face ugly.
“Fraud.”
I felt something inside me go still.
“What fraud?”
“Two years ago, my construction company was failing. Dana said her uncle could help us win city contracts. We got them.”
“Rigged bids?”
“I didn’t know at first.”
“Michael.”
“I swear. Not at first. Then Warren told me I owed him. He had me submit invoices through a shell subcontractor.”
“How much?”
“Almost nine hundred thousand.”
Naomi exhaled slowly.
“And where did the money go?”
“Some came back to us. Most went elsewhere.”
“Where?”
“I don’t know.”
“You signed the invoices.”
“Yes.”
“So Ross owns you.”
Michael nodded.
“He told me if I contradicted Dana tonight, they’d make me the center of the fraud case. Dana said I’d lose everything. My company. My house. My son.”
“You have no son.”
He looked at me.
And that was when the ground shifted.
“Yes,” he whispered. “I do.”
I stared at him.
“Dana is pregnant?”
“No.”
Naomi stopped writing.
Michael wiped his face.
“Before Dana, I dated someone named Claire Bennett. She left town. I didn’t know she was pregnant.”
“Where is the child?”
“Here. Westbridge.”
“How old?”
“Eleven.”
I struggled to keep my voice steady.
“And Ross knows?”
“Yes.”
“What does that have to do with tonight?”
“Three weeks ago, Warren showed me photos of Claire dropping him at school. He said accidents happen.”
I sat down across the aisle.
For years I had thought my brother weak because he wanted comfort more than courage.
Now I saw something worse: he had allowed his fear to make decisions for everyone around him.
“You should have told me.”
“I know.”
“You should have told Mom.”
“I know.”
“You should have stopped Dana.”
“I tried.”
“No, Michael. You negotiated while Mom got beaten.”
He closed his eyes.
I let the words hurt.
Then I asked the question that mattered.
“Who warned Ross about my audit?”
“I don’t know the name.”
“But you know something.”
He nodded.
“Last week, I heard Dana on the phone with Warren. She said, ‘The woman from the capital says Hale is coming.’”
“The woman?”
“Yes.”
“Anything else?”
“She called her ‘D.’”
Naomi’s pen stopped.
We looked at each other.
There were three women in my office hierarchy whose names began with D.
One of them was Deputy Attorney General Diane Mercer.
My mentor.
The person who had recruited me.
The person who had designed the Westbridge audit.
Michael reached into his coat.
Naomi’s hand moved toward her sidearm.
He froze.
“Phone,” he said.
“Slowly,” I told him.
He handed it to me.
On the screen was a photograph of a bank transfer record he had taken from Dana’s laptop.
Recipient: MERCER STRATEGIC CONSULTING.
Amount: $175,000.
Sender: RIVERSIDE CIVIC PARTNERS.
I stared at the date.
Two days before my father died.
Naomi whispered, “Mercer had a consulting firm before she joined the AG.”
My phone rang.
Diane Mercer.
At 4:29 in the morning.
I showed Naomi the screen.
Michael went pale.
“Don’t answer.”
I did.
“Evelyn,” Diane said, breathless with concern. “Thank God. I just heard about your mother. I’m on my way to Westbridge.”
I looked at the transfer record.
“When did you hear?”
A pause.
“About twenty minutes ago.”
Interesting.
I had not notified her.
“Who told you?”
Another pause.
Then Diane said gently, “Evelyn, I need you to step away from this case immediately.”
Before we left the church, Michael stopped me beside the old baptismal font.
“Evie.”
“What?”
“If this destroys me, will you take care of Ethan?”
I stared at him. “Do not use your son as a bargaining chip with me.”
“I’m not.”
“You waited eleven years to tell me he existed.”
“Because Claire asked me to stay away.”
“Why?”
“She was afraid of Dana’s family.”
That answer mattered enough to slow my anger.
“What did Ross do to Claire?”
“I don’t know. She would never tell me.”
“Then we find out.”
Michael nodded, then whispered, “I’m sorry about Mom.”
“Tell her.”
“She won’t forgive me.”
“That is not your decision.”
He looked at the crucifix above the dark altar. “I thought protecting my life meant keeping everything from falling apart.”
“No,” I said. “You kept the appearance intact while the foundation rotted.”
May you like
He flinched.
Good. Some truths are supposed to.
