Chapter 4 - The Call Eleanor Did Not Make
At 6:07 the next morning, Eleanor walked into her garden.
She carried no phone.
Trent had taken it again during breakfast.
He claimed he wanted to install a “family safety app.”
Eleanor had smiled and allowed him to keep it.
The backyard was covered in early autumn mist.
Rachel remained upstairs.
Trent was in the shower.
Eleanor walked toward the detached gardening shed.
Inside, behind a row of old paint cans, sat a metal toolbox.
She opened it.
Arthur’s emergency phone was still there.
Eight years earlier, her late husband had purchased two prepaid phones after a storm knocked out their landline.
Arthur never threw anything away.
Neither did Eleanor.
She powered on the device.
One bar.
Enough.
She dialed a number from memory.
A man answered on the third ring.
“Hello?”
“Samuel.”
Silence.
“Eleanor?”
“Yes.”
“What happened?”
Samuel Keene had been Arthur’s attorney for twenty-three years.
After Arthur died, he became Eleanor’s.
More importantly, he was one of perhaps four people alive who knew the full structure of the Whitmore family trust.
Eleanor lowered her voice.
“Trent hit me yesterday.”
Samuel did not respond immediately.
Then his tone changed completely.
“Are you safe?”
“For the moment.”
“Call the police.”
“I will.”
“Now.”
“Not yet.”
“Eleanor.”
“I need you to listen.”
Samuel knew her well enough not to argue twice.
“Go.”
“Rachel and Trent arrived yesterday with six suitcases. They claim they need to stay for a month. Their house has been foreclosed.”
“What?”
“Rachel says Trent lost money. A great deal of it.”
“How much?”
“Unknown.”
“Does this involve your assets?”
“I think he believes it does.”
Samuel exhaled.
“What exactly do you need?”
“First, confirm nobody has requested copies of my estate documents.”
Keyboard sounds.
“One moment.”
Eleanor waited.
Samuel stopped typing.
“Eleanor.”
“Yes?”
“Somebody called my office nine days ago.”
Her stomach tightened.
“Who?”
“A man claiming to represent Rachel.”
“Name?”
“He gave the name Daniel Mercer.”
“Do you know him?”
“No.”
“What did he ask?”
“Whether the Whitmore residence was owned individually or through a trust.”
Eleanor gripped the phone.
“What did your office tell him?”
“Nothing.”
“Anything else?”
“He asked whether Rachel was the sole beneficiary.”
“And?”
“We refused to confirm.”
Eleanor looked toward the house.
The upstairs curtains moved.
She stepped farther into the shed.
“Samuel, check the property records.”
“For your house?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know yet.”
“I can do that.”
“And the trust.”
“What about it?”
“Freeze any nonessential distributions.”
There was a pause.
“Are you concerned Rachel is involved?”
Eleanor looked back toward the house.
“I don’t know.”
“That’s not like you.”
“What?”
“You usually know exactly what you think.”
“This is my daughter.”
Samuel’s voice softened.
“Which is why you need distance.”
“I need facts.”
“Then let me get them.”
“Samuel.”
“Yes?”
“There’s something else.”
She told him about the hidden documents.
The foreclosure.
The shell companies.
The hard drive.
Samuel listened without interruption.
When she finished, he said, “Do not touch the hard drive.”
“Why?”
“We don’t know what’s on it.”
“I wasn’t planning to eat breakfast from it.”
“I’m serious.”
“So am I.”
“Eleanor, if Trent is involved in financial crimes, those documents may matter to more than a divorce.”
“I know.”
“And if Rachel removed them from his office, he may realize they’re missing.”
“I think he already suspects.”
“Then leave the house.”
“No.”
“Eleanor.”
“It’s my house.”
“That argument will sound very principled at your funeral.”
She went silent.
Samuel rarely spoke dramatically.
“Are you that concerned?”
“I am concerned that a man who punched you in the face yesterday is sleeping upstairs and may be financially desperate.”
Eleanor looked at the upstairs window again.
No movement now.
Samuel continued.
“Financial desperation makes predictable people unpredictable.”
“I can handle Trent.”
“You shouldn’t have to.”
“I’m not leaving Rachel.”
“Then get her out too.”
“She won’t go.”
“Why?”
“Because she’s afraid of him.”
“Then the police need to be involved.”
“They will be.”
“When?”
Eleanor looked at Arthur’s old gardening clock.
“Soon.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“No.”
“Eleanor.”
“I need one more thing.”
Samuel sighed.
“What?”
“Do you remember the secondary camera system Arthur installed?”
“The ridiculous one?”
“He would object to that description.”
“Arthur installed enough surveillance equipment to protect a small embassy.”
“Is the cloud account still active?”
“I have no idea.”
“I need you to find out.”
Samuel paused.
“What was recorded?”
“The punch.”
Silence.
Then Samuel said quietly, “Good.”
Eleanor frowned.
“That’s a strange response.”
“You know what I mean.”
“I do.”
“And Trent?”
“He destroyed the visible camera.”
Samuel almost laughed.
“He never knew Arthur.”
“No.”
“Arthur never built anything with only one backup.”
Eleanor smiled despite her swollen lip.
“Exactly.”
The shed door moved.
Eleanor spun around.
Rachel stood there.
Barefoot.
Pale.
“Mom.”
Eleanor ended the call.
“What are you doing out here?”
Rachel stared at the phone.
“Who were you calling?”
“Samuel.”
Rachel closed the shed door behind her.
“You can’t.”
“I already did.”
“Trent checks your call history.”
“Not on this phone.”
Rachel stared.
Eleanor waited.
Rachel suddenly covered her face.
“He’s going to find out.”
“About what?”
“Everything.”
Eleanor stepped closer.
“What does he know?”
Rachel lowered her hands.
“He knows I took the drive.”
Eleanor felt the morning turn colder.
“How?”
“He woke me up at four.”
“What happened?”
“He asked whether I’d been in his office before we left.”
“What did you say?”
“No.”
“And?”
“He smiled.”
Eleanor knew that smile.
Rachel whispered, “Then he told me he counted the suitcases.”
Eleanor frowned.
“I don’t understand.”
“There were supposed to be five.”
Both women looked toward the house.
Rachel continued.
“The blue suitcase wasn’t packed at home.”
“Where was it packed?”
“At his office.”
Eleanor’s pulse quickened.
“You stopped there?”
“Before we came here.”
“Did he see you?”
“I thought he was downstairs.”
“What was he doing there?”
“I don’t know.”
“Rachel.”
“I don’t know.”
Eleanor took her daughter by the shoulders.
“Then tell me everything you do know.”
Rachel looked toward the kitchen windows.
“Not here.”
“Why?”
“Because Trent already found the broken camera system.”
“He found the one he destroyed.”
Rachel shook her head.
“No, Mom.”
Eleanor froze.
Rachel’s voice dropped.
“He was in the basement ten minutes ago.”
The basement.
Where Arthur had installed the central recording unit.
Eleanor released her.
“What did he do?”
“I heard him talking to someone on the phone.”
“What did he say?”
Rachel swallowed.
“He said, ‘There has to be another recorder. Find it before she does.’”
Eleanor stared at her daughter.
“Who was he talking to?”
“I don’t know.”
Then a man’s voice came from outside the shed.
“I think I can answer that.”
Eleanor and Rachel turned.
The garden gate stood open.
Samuel Keene stepped inside.
But he wasn’t alone.
Beside him stood a woman Eleanor had never seen before.
Dark suit.
Federal credentials clipped to her belt.
May you like
And the moment Rachel saw her, she whispered one word.
“No.”
