Chapter 5: What Thomas Knew
The tunnel opened behind the old garage half a block away.
Rain hammered the pavement.
Marcus pushed us through the exit and immediately called for backup.
Victor stood beneath the awning, soaked and breathing hard.
I stared at him.
“My husband had a brother.””
“Yes.””
“Why didn't I know?””
Victor looked away.
“Because Thomas believed you were safer without me.””
“That makes no sense.””
“It will.””
“No. You don't get to say that.””
My voice broke.
“You've spent years watching my life from a distance, and now you expect me to trust you?””
Victor swallowed.
“I don't expect you to trust me.””
“Good.””
“I expect you to listen.””
Marcus approached.
“Both of you, save it for later.””
He looked at Victor.
“You're coming with us.””
Victor didn't resist.
At the police station, everything became fluorescent lights, paperwork, and questions.
The children slept in a borrowed office while Marcus reviewed the files we'd recovered.
I sat across from Victor.
For the first time, I could see him clearly.
He had Thomas's eyes.
The same dark brown.
The same slight crease beside the left eye when he was worried.
I hated that I noticed.
“Tell me about him,” I said.
Victor looked down.
“Thomas?””
“Yes.””
“He was twelve when I left.””
“Why?””
“Diane.””
The name sat between us.
Victor rubbed his hands together.
“Our father owned three properties and a construction company. Diane married him when Thomas was six.””
“She wasn't my father's first wife?””
“No.””
I felt another piece of my childhood shift.
Victor continued.
“Diane wanted control of everything. When our father refused, she started moving money.””
“How?””
“Fake invoices. Shell companies. Loans.””
“Did Thomas know?””
“He discovered it at nineteen.””
“And you?””
“I confronted her.””
Victor laughed without humor.
“She told me nobody would believe a seventeen-year-old accusing his stepmother of stealing from the family.””
“What happened?””
“She made sure I disappeared.””
I stared at him.
“What does that mean?””
“She arranged for me to take the blame for missing money.””
My stomach tightened.
“She told the police I had stolen from my father.””
“Did you?””
“No.””
“Then why didn't you fight it?””
Victor looked at me.
“Because Diane threatened Thomas.””
Silence.
“She said if I stayed, she'd make sure he went to prison too.””
I looked toward the sleeping children.
“So you left.””
“I ran.””
“And Thomas stayed.””
“Yes.””
“Why didn't he tell me?””
“Because by the time he met you, Diane had already convinced him that anyone who knew the family history was a danger to you.””
I remembered Thomas's strange rules.
Never leave important documents at home.
Never discuss family finances around Diane.
Never give my mother copies of our keys.
At the time, I thought he was cautious.
Now I realized he was terrified.
Marcus entered carrying a file.
“We have a problem.””
I looked up.
“What?””
“The deed.””
He placed it on the table.
“The one you found downstairs isn't the only forged document.””
He opened another folder.
“There are six.””
My mouth went dry.
“Six?””
“Mortgage authorization. Power of attorney. Insurance beneficiary.
Property transfer. Medical authorization.””
I stared at the pages.
“She was trying to take control of everything.””
Marcus nodded.
“Your finances, your house, your medical decisions.””
I felt sick.
“She wanted me helpless.””
Victor leaned forward.
“No.””
I looked at him.
“She wanted you dependent.””
“What’s the difference?””
“Helpless people fight back.””
He tapped the papers.
“Dependent people ask permission.””
The words landed hard.
Diane had never said, You can't.
She had always said, Let me.
Let me handle the bank.
Let me talk to the doctor.
Let me decide what the children need.
Let me deal with Thomas's estate.
Let me take care of the house.
She hadn't been taking care of me.
She had been removing pieces of my life until there was nothing left that I could control.
Marcus sat down.
“There is something else.””
He slid a photograph across the table.
It showed Thomas standing outside a warehouse.
Victor leaned forward.
“That's the place.””
“What place?”” I asked.
“The company Diane used.””
Marcus nodded.
“We traced several transfers through an account connected to that warehouse.””
“When?””
“Tonight.””
My pulse quickened.
“Tonight?””
“Someone accessed the account three hours ago.””
Victor's face changed.
“Diane.””
Marcus shook his head.
“No.””
He turned the photograph around.
A timestamp was printed beneath it.
“Someone used Thomas's credentials.””
I stared at the screen.
“Thomas has been dead for three weeks.””
Marcus nodded.
“Exactly.””
The room went silent.
Victor looked at me.
“Your husband may not have been hiding his secrets from you.””
I frowned.
“What do you mean?””
He leaned closer.
“Maybe he was hiding the fact that he was still investigating Diane.””
My heart pounded.
Marcus opened another file.
“There is one more thing.””
He pulled out a photograph from the crash scene.
Thomas's car.
The windshield shattered.
The driver's side crushed against a tree.
Then Marcus pointed to the dashboard.
“Look.””
A small black device was wedged beneath the steering column.
“What is it?”” I asked.
“A tracking unit.””
Victor went pale.
“That's not a factory part.””
Marcus nodded.
“Someone installed it before the crash.””
I looked at Thomas's photograph again.
The date was the night before his death.
10:42 P.M.
The same time written on the back.
*SHE KNOWS ABOUT ELENA.*
My phone vibrated.
Unknown number.
One new message.
I opened it.
A photograph appeared.
Thomas sitting inside a car.
Alive.
The timestamp read:
*Three weeks after the crash.*
May you like
Under the photograph was a single sentence.
If you want to know why your husband disappeared, come to the warehouse alone.
