Grady stared at Nathan’s photograph for so long that the phone screen dimmed.
I touched it to wake it again.
The image returned.
Kelsey sat on the left side of a restaurant booth wearing a tan coat I remembered from that winter. Across from her was Caroline.
Not maybe Caroline.
Not someone who merely resembled her.
Grady had met the woman face-to-face years earlier.
“It’s her,” he said.
“Then Caroline did not disappear three years ago.”
“She disappeared from us.”
“That is not the same thing.”
He shook his head.
“I don’t understand.”
Neither did I.
I called Nathan.
He answered on the first ring.
“Where did you get this?”
“A private investigator.”
“When?”
“Last month.”
“Why didn’t you send it sooner?”
“I didn’t know who I could trust.”
“You came to my house.”
“Because after the forged loan appeared in your name, I realized you probably weren’t part of it.”
“Probably?”
“I’ve learned not to assume.”
Fair enough.
“Where was the photograph taken?”
“Dayton.”
“That’s two states away.”
“Yes.”
“When?”
“Last year.”
“Who hired the investigator?”
“I did.”
Grady took the phone.
“Why would Kelsey meet Caroline if she told police she had no idea where she was?”
“That is what I wanted to know.”
“Did your investigator follow her?”
“For several days.”
“And?”
“She met Caroline twice.”
“Where does Caroline live?”
“Not under that name.”
I took the phone back.
“What name?”
Nathan hesitated.
“Claire Bennett.”
Grady sat down.
“Who is Claire Bennett?”
“According to public records, she’s a forty-six-year-old woman who moved to Dayton around two years ago.”
“Birth records?”
“Complicated.”
“How complicated?”
“The Social Security number belongs to a real Claire Bennett who died fourteen years ago.”
I shut my eyes.
Identity theft again.
“Caroline is living under a dead woman’s identity?”
“Yes.”
“By choice?”
“I don’t know.”
“Did you contact her?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because I didn’t know whether confronting her would make her disappear again.”
“Did Kelsey know she was being followed?”
“Not at first.”
“What changed?”
“My investigator believes she noticed him during the second meeting.”
“Then what?”
“Kelsey stopped going.”
“Did Caroline remain?”
“For a while.”
“And now?”
“We lost her.”
Grady swore and stood.
“I’m going to call Kelsey.”
I blocked him with one hand.
“No.”
“She lied to me for years.”
“Yes.”
“So I’m supposed to sit here?”
“For once in your life, yes.”
He glared at me.
I did not move.
“Grady, if you call her now, what will you say?”
“That I know Caroline is alive.”
“And then?”
He had no answer.
“Exactly.”
Nathan continued through the phone.
“There’s something else about Claire Bennett.”
“What?”
“She owns property.”
“Where?”
“Dayton. Small house.”
“With what money?”
“Cash purchase.”
“When?”
“About twenty-one months ago.”
“Which is after Caroline supposedly disappeared.”
“Yes.”
“Whose money?”
“We don’t know.”
I thought of the missing trust funds.
“How much was the house?”
“One hundred twelve thousand.”
Grady looked at me.
That amount was close enough to what had disappeared from Walter’s trust to matter.
“Did money from Grady’s trust buy it?”
Nathan said, “I can’t prove that.”
“But you suspect it.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“The closing company received funds from an account linked to Kelsey’s business.”
I stood.
The room seemed suddenly too small.
“So Kelsey’s company paid for a house occupied by her missing sister using the identity of a dead woman.”
“That is what the records suggest.”
“Why?”
“That is the question.”
Grady sat with his head in his hands.
I looked at him.
“Did Kelsey ever tell you she sent money to Caroline?”
“No.”
“Did she ever mention Dayton?”
“No.”
“Did she travel there?”
“She said she had conferences.”
“Did you verify them?”
He looked up sharply.
“No, Mom. Because most husbands don’t investigate their wives.”
“Most wives don’t forge their mother-in-law’s signature.”
He looked away.
I regretted the sharpness but not the point.
Nathan said, “Karen, there’s another person you need to know about.”
I almost laughed from exhaustion.
“Of course there is.”
“Claire Bennett’s name appeared on one of Kelsey’s older credit applications.”
“When?”
“Five years ago.”
“Before Caroline disappeared.”
“Yes.”
“So Kelsey was using the dead woman’s identity before Caroline began living under it.”
“That’s what it looks like.”
“Why would Caroline later use an identity Kelsey had already stolen?”
Nathan had no immediate answer.
Then he said, “Maybe she didn’t choose it.”
The possibility settled like ice.
“What are you suggesting?”
“That Caroline may have been pressured.”
“By Kelsey?”
“Yes.”
“For what purpose?”
“To keep Caroline invisible.”
“Why?”
Nathan sighed.
“I think the answer is in Walter’s missing notes.”
I looked toward the hallway.
The attic evidence was gone.
Unless Walter had made copies.
He made copies of everything.
That thought came with such force I stood abruptly.
Grady looked up.
“What?”
“Your father never trusted single copies.”
“What do you mean?”
“If something mattered, he duplicated it.”
“Where?”
I was already walking toward Walter’s old study.
After his death, I had turned most of the room into storage, but his desk remained.
Three drawers.
Locked center compartment.
I still had the keys.
The first drawer contained pens, old receipts, a measuring tape, and business cards.
The second held instruction manuals.
The third was nearly empty.
No red folders.
I opened the center compartment.
Nothing useful.
Grady leaned against the doorway.
“Maybe he only kept the attic set.”
“No.”
Walter had once driven back from a vacation because he remembered leaving a passport photocopy in an unlocked drawer.
He never trusted one location.
I looked around the room.
Bookcase.
File cabinet.
Desk.
Then my eyes settled on an old steel toolbox beneath the window.
Walter had not used it for tools in years.
I pulled it out.
Locked.
Grady found a small key taped beneath the desk.
Inside the toolbox were envelopes.
Tax returns.
Insurance policies.
One red notebook.
My pulse jumped.
I opened it.
Walter’s handwriting filled the pages.
Dates.
Names.
Amounts.
Kelsey.
Caroline.
Claire Bennett.
My hands began shaking.
Grady moved beside me.
“Dad knew.”
“Yes.”
Walter had written a note beside Caroline’s name:
Claims K. took inheritance funds through duplicate accounts.
Another entry:
Caroline says she signed documents under pressure. Fearful of police because some signatures are hers.
Grady read over my shoulder.
“Oh my God.”
I turned the page.
Walter had listed an amount.
$118,400.
Beside it:
Estate funds unaccounted for.
Nathan had mentioned a Dayton house costing one hundred twelve thousand.
The numbers were suddenly too close.
I kept reading.
One note was underlined twice.
K. says Caroline unstable. Caroline says K. threatens to expose forged loan applications both signed.
So Caroline was not simply a victim.
She had participated.
Perhaps reluctantly.
Perhaps knowingly.
But she had participated.
“Dad knew they were both involved,” Grady whispered.
“Yes.”
Another note:
If Caroline disappears, check Bennett identity.
I stopped.
Walter had written that before Caroline vanished.
“How did Dad know?”
Grady looked sick.
I turned another page.
There was an address.
Dayton.
The same street Nathan had given us.
Walter had known about the identity years earlier.
Underneath, he had written:
Do not tell Karen until documentation complete.
My throat tightened.
Even dead, Walter was explaining his silence.
Not because he didn’t trust me.
Because he knew I would act before he finished proving anything.
Grady touched the page.
“There’s more.”
At the bottom was a bank account number.
Next to it:
Emergency evidence copy — safe deposit.
I stared.
Walter and I had never shared a safe-deposit box.
At least I thought we hadn’t.
A bank name was written beside it.
First Union Trust.
I picked up my phone.
The branch was still open for another ninety minutes.
“We’re going.”
“Now?”
“Yes.”
Grady hesitated.
“What if Kelsey calls?”
“Do not answer.”
“Mom.”
“You’ve answered her calls for years. Try not answering one afternoon.”
He followed me.
At the bank, the manager disappeared for several minutes after I provided Walter’s information.
When she returned, her expression was cautious.
“There is a box under your husband’s name.”
“Am I authorized?”
She checked again.
“Yes.”
My knees nearly weakened.
“He added you as joint holder twelve years ago.”
“Why have I never received notices?”
“The annual fee has been paid automatically from another account.”
Walter’s hidden account.
Of course.
The manager led us downstairs.
The vault smelled of metal and cold air.
She inserted one key.
I inserted the customer key she retrieved after verifying my identity.
The box slid out.
Inside sat a single sealed envelope.
My name was written across it.
Karen.
My husband had written it.
For several seconds I could not open it.
Grady stood silently beside me.
Finally I broke the seal.
Inside was a letter.
Karen,
If you are reading this, something happened before I could explain it properly.
My eyes blurred.
I forced myself to continue.
Kelsey is not the only person involved.
Grady whispered, “What?”
I lowered the letter.
Those words had been written by my husband years before his death.
And he was telling me the scheme surrounding our family extended beyond Kelsey and Caroline.
I read the next line.
The man helping them is someone you know.
Click here to continue reading: PART 8: Walter’s Final Letter Named Someone I Trusted for Years, and Grady Realized the Fraud Had Started Before He Ever Met Kelsey
My Son Asked Me to Stay Away From His Home, but the Car Outside Made His Explanation Impossible to Believe
Part 7 of 28
