Chapter 1 - The Night My Father Died
Nine months earlier, my father called me at 10:43 P.M.
I remember the exact time because his name appeared on my phone while I was finishing a presentation in my college library.
DAD CALLING.
I smiled and answered.
“Shouldn’t you be asleep?” I asked.
My father, Thomas Bennett, laughed quietly. He was fifty-three, but he treated sleep like an unnecessary business expense.
“I could ask you the same thing, Claire.”
“What’s wrong?”
His laugh disappeared.
“I need you to listen carefully.”
The seriousness in his voice made me close my laptop.
Dad owned Bennett Agricultural Systems, a regional manufacturing company that designed irrigation equipment. He had built it from a rented workshop into a business worth nearly sixty million dollars.
His younger brother, Victor, had worked beside him for twenty years.
To the public, they were inseparable.
Inside our home, however, Dad had recently become nervous whenever Victor’s name appeared on his phone.
“I discovered financial transfers,” Dad said. “Money has been disappearing from the company.”
“How much?”
“More than eight million.”
I stood from my chair.
“Did someone steal it?”
“I believe Victor and Adrian created false suppliers. I’m meeting with an investigator tomorrow morning.”
My heart began pounding.
“Does Uncle Victor know?”
“I think he suspects I found out.”
“Dad, call the police now.”
“I don’t have enough evidence with me. The full records are secured elsewhere.”
“Where?”
He hesitated.
Before he could answer, I heard a sound through the phone.
A door opening.
Dad stopped speaking.
“Thomas?” a man’s voice said in the background.
It sounded like Uncle Victor.
My father lowered his voice.
“Claire, don’t trust the first story you hear.”
The call ended.
I tried calling back eleven times.
No answer.
At 11:27 P.M., my mother called me screaming.
By the time I reached our family home, police vehicles filled the driveway. Red and blue lights flashed across the white columns of the porch.
An officer stopped me near the front door.
“My father is inside,” I said. “My mother called me.”
The officer would not look me in the eye.
My father had been found in his study.
A single kitchen knife had been left near him. The police said there had been a struggle, but almost nothing in the room appeared disturbed.
My mother sat in the hallway wearing a cream nightgown. There were dark stains on one sleeve, and her hands trembled uncontrollably.
“I tried to help him,” she repeated. “Claire, I tried to help him.”
Uncle Victor stood behind her with his arm around Ethan.
Adrian was near the stairs, pale and silent.
Detective Owen Mercer walked out of the study carrying a clear evidence bag.
Inside was a handwritten letter.
He showed it to my mother.
The letter appeared to be from Dad.
It claimed she had threatened him after discovering he planned to leave her.
“That isn’t true,” Mom said.
Then a second officer came downstairs.
“We found the suspected weapon beneath the mattress in the main bedroom.”
Mom stared at him.
“What weapon?”
“A second knife,” he said. “It appears to have been cleaned.”
Detective Mercer turned toward her.
“Margaret Bennett, you need to come with us.”
My mother looked at Uncle Victor.
“Tell them,” she pleaded. “Victor, tell them Thomas and I weren’t fighting.”
Victor lowered his eyes.
“I heard you arguing earlier,” he said softly.
Mom’s face collapsed.
That was the first lie.
May you like
There would be many more.
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