Chapter 6 - THE BOX BENEATH THE MAPLE TREE
Police searched the ground beneath the maple tree the following morning.
They found a rectangular cavity approximately fourteen inches long and eight inches deep.
Whatever had been buried there was gone.
Samuel stood on the patio.
"Did Thomas bury anything?"
"Not that I know of."
"Documents?"
"No."
"Cash?"
"Thomas hated cash."
"Jewelry?"
"No."
The detective crouched beside the hole.
"The soil suggests the container was there a long time."
"How long?" Evelyn asked.
"Hard to say."
"Years?"
"Possibly."
Evelyn thought about the tree.
Thomas had planted it.
Their daughter had married beneath it.
Axel had played beneath it.
Every family photograph seemed to include those branches.
Who would choose that location for hiding something?
Then she remembered.
Her father's old metal document box.
Brown.
Rust along one edge.
When Evelyn's father died, she had inherited it.
She used it for old property deeds and tax records.
Years later, Thomas asked if he could borrow it.
"For what?" she had asked.
"Something dull."
That was Thomas's answer.
Something dull.
She never saw the box again.
Evelyn turned toward Samuel.
"Thomas."
"What?"
"I think Thomas buried something."
Samuel stared.
"Why?"
"I don't know."
They searched the attic.
The garage.
Thomas's old office.
Most of his files had been organized after his death.
But one cabinet remained locked.
Evelyn had forgotten about it.
Samuel found the key taped beneath the lowest drawer.
Inside were photographs, old company records, insurance documents, and a notebook.
Thomas's handwriting filled the first dozen pages.
Manufacturing figures.
Names.
Phone numbers.
Then, halfway through, the entries changed.
April 9.
Q asked again about share transfer restrictions. Strange interest.
April 17.
Livia says Q only wants to understand family planning. I don't believe him.
May 2.
Met D. Something is wrong.
May 8.
If anything happens to me, do not let Q manage Evelyn's finances.
Evelyn stopped reading.
Samuel whispered, "Jesus."
Thomas had died twelve years earlier.
Officially from a heart attack while fishing alone.
He had been sixty-four.
Healthy.
Active.
The death had shocked everyone.
Evelyn continued reading.
May 11.
Received copies. Worse than expected. D frightened.
May 14.
Moving originals offsite. Keep duplication beneath maple until S can retrieve.
Evelyn's pulse quickened.
"S."
Samuel looked at her.
"Me?"
"Maybe."
"You never told me anything."
"I didn't know."
The final entry was dated May 16.
Q knows I'm asking questions.
Evelyn stared.
Thomas died May 18.
Two days later.
Samuel sat heavily in the desk chair.
"We need the police."
"We need Miriam."
Miriam arrived with an investigator forty minutes later.
The notebook was placed in an evidence bag.
Miriam read a photographed copy.
"Who's D?"
Evelyn shook her head.
"Who's Q?" the investigator asked.
Everyone looked at each other.
Quentyn.
There was no proof.
But nobody needed to say it.
Miriam asked, "Did Thomas have concerns about Quentyn twelve years ago?"
"Not that he told me."
"Did they argue?"
"Occasionally."
"About money?"
"Everything with Quentyn eventually became about money."
Samuel walked to the window.
"What are 'copies'?"
"We don't know."
"And 'originals offsite'?"
"We don't know."
Evelyn looked toward the maple tree.
Someone had taken the duplicate evidence.
But Thomas's notebook suggested there was another set.
Somewhere.
Offsite.
The investigator asked about Thomas's final days.
Evelyn remembered fragments.
He had been distracted.
He took several phone calls outside.
He drove into the city twice without telling her why.
The evening before his death, he had sat beside her in bed and asked an odd question.
"If you ever found out someone close to us had lied for a long time, would you want to know everything?"
Evelyn had been half asleep.
She had laughed.
"That depends how interesting the lie is."
Thomas did not laugh.
She remembered that now.
Why had she forgotten?
"What happened the day he died?" Miriam asked.
"He went fishing."
"Alone?"
"Yes."
"Did anyone know where?"
"Quentyn did."
The room became still.
"Why?"
"Thomas borrowed Quentyn's truck."
Samuel turned.
"I thought he took his own car."
"No. His brakes were being serviced."
Evelyn stared at the carpet.
"Quentyn drove him to the marina."
The investigator began writing.
"Who found Thomas?"
"A fisherman."
"Autopsy?"
"No."
Miriam looked at Evelyn.
"Why not?"
"Doctors said heart attack. He had family history."
"Was there a toxicology screen?"
"I don't know."
Samuel said, "Evelyn."
She looked at him.
He did not finish.
He didn't need to.
The possibility was too ugly.
That night, Evelyn barely slept.
At two fifteen, she sat beside the hotel window and watched the city.
Her grief for Thomas had settled into something familiar over twelve years.
A scar.
Now someone had ripped it open.
Her phone vibrated.
A text.
Unknown number.
You are looking in the wrong place.
Evelyn stared.
Another message appeared.
Thomas did not hide the originals in a bank.
Then a third.
Ask Samuel about May 17.
Evelyn looked toward the connecting door to her brother's room.
She called him.
Samuel answered groggily.
"What's wrong?"
"Come here."
He entered minutes later.
She handed him the phone.
He read the messages.
His face changed at the third.
Evelyn noticed.
"What happened May seventeenth?"
"Nothing."
"Samuel."
He sat down.
"Thomas came to my house."
Evelyn stared.
"The day before he died?"
"Yes."
"You never told me."
"He asked me not to."
"For twelve years?"
Samuel looked ashamed.
"He gave me an envelope."
Evelyn's voice dropped.
"Where is it?"
"I don't have it."
"What did you do with it?"
"He told me to deliver it to someone if anything happened."
"Who?"
Samuel looked at her.
"A woman named Diane Mercer."
"Did you?"
"Yes."
"When?"
"Three days after Thomas died."
Evelyn stood.
"Who is Diane Mercer?"
"I don't know."
"What was inside?"
"I don't know."
"You didn't open it?"
"No."
"How did you find her?"
"Thomas gave me an address."
"Where?"
Samuel swallowed.
"The Harper Agricultural Systems research facility."
Evelyn stopped.
The old facility had closed fourteen years earlier.
Two years before Thomas died.
It had been sold.
Or so she thought.
"That building was empty."
Samuel shook his head.
"No."
May you like
"What do you mean?"
"When I went there, somebody was still using it."
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