Chapter 3 - Michael's Last Appointment)
The police did not arrest Margaret.
That almost made things worse.
Detective Aaron Cole arrived shortly after midnight with two state investigators.
They requested access to Michael’s former study.
Margaret protested.
Richard gave permission.
The study had remained locked since Michael died.
Hannah had entered only twice.
The first time she had collapsed beside his desk.
The second time she had taken a sweater because it still smelled faintly like him.
Detective Cole stood in the doorway.
“Mrs. Ashford, did your husband keep a computer here?”
“Yes.”
“Where is it?”
Hannah looked toward the desk.
The docking station remained.
The laptop did not.
Her stomach dropped.
“It was there.”
“When did you last see it?”
“After the funeral.”
Margaret appeared behind them.
“Maybe the maid moved it.”
Richard turned.
“What maid?”
Margaret shrugged.
“One of them.”
Hannah stared at her.
“There hasn’t been household staff in this wing since Michael died.”
Margaret said nothing.
Cole noticed.
“So who had access?”
“Family,” Richard answered.
“Which family?”
Richard looked directly at Margaret.
“My sister had master keys.”
Margaret exploded.
“This is ridiculous.”
Cole remained calm.
“Then you won’t mind answering questions.”
“I absolutely mind.”
“Margaret.”
Richard’s warning was enough.
Investigators searched the room.
Twenty minutes later, one called Detective Cole.
“Found something.”
Behind a row of law books was a small digital recorder.
Hannah recognized it.
Michael used it during site inspections.
Cole inserted batteries.
The device activated.
There were seventeen recordings.
The final one was dated the night Michael died.
Hannah’s knees weakened.
“Play it.”
Cole hesitated.
“You may not want to hear this.”
“He was my husband.”
Cole pressed play.
Static.
Then Michael’s voice.
Hannah covered her mouth.
Almost a year had passed since she had heard it.
“If anyone finds this, I was right about Beacon.”
Richard stepped closer.
Michael continued.
“They’re moving Heritage Trust assets through shell companies. I found signatures attributed to me that I never made.”
Jonathan whispered:
“Jesus.”
Michael’s recording continued.
“I don’t know how high it goes. Jonathan might be compromised. Dad might be involved without knowing it. Aunt Margaret definitely knows something.”
Margaret shouted:
“Turn that off!”
Cole ignored her.
Michael’s voice became strained.
“I found transfers connected to Beacon Harbor, North Atlantic Restoration and something called Project Haven.”
Richard looked confused.
Hannah remembered the name.
“Project Haven.”
Everyone looked at her.
“Michael said it once.”
“When?” Cole asked.
“About two weeks before he died. We were having breakfast. He received a call and walked outside.”
“What did he say afterward?”
“He said somebody was trying to sell the future before the family knew it existed.”
Richard looked toward the architectural plans in the other room.
Cole resumed the recording.
“I’m meeting Jonathan tomorrow. Before that, I’m driving to Beacon House tonight.”
Margaret’s breathing changed.
Michael continued.
“If anything happens to me, check the east foundation at Ashford Hall.”
The recording ended.
Nobody spoke.
Richard slowly turned toward Margaret.
“What is Beacon House?”
“I don’t know.”
“Stop lying.”
“I’m not.”
Richard stepped closer.
“You reacted downstairs.”
“I reacted because Michael was paranoid.”
“My son was dead six hours after recording that message.”
Margaret stared at him.
“That does not make me responsible.”
Hannah looked toward Cole.
“What is the east foundation?”
Cole answered carefully.
“That’s what we’re going to determine.”
At 2:13 a.m., investigators entered the eastern basement.
Behind a newer concrete wall, thermal imaging detected an empty space.
The wall was drilled.
Then cut.
Behind it was a narrow room.
Richard stood beside Hannah as investigators entered.
Inside were metal filing cabinets.
Old ledgers.
Hard drives.
And photographs.
Hundreds of photographs.
Some were decades old.
Some recent.
Hannah stepped toward one.
Michael.
He was standing outside a gray coastal house.
On the back was a date.
The day he died.
Underneath was an address.
Rockport, Massachusetts.
Detective Cole looked at Richard.
“Do you know this property?”
Richard shook his head.
Margaret answered before she could stop herself.
“That house was sold years ago.”
Everyone turned.
Cole stared at her.
“You said you didn't know Beacon House.”
Margaret went pale.
Richard’s voice dropped.
“How do you know it was sold?”
Margaret opened her mouth.
No answer came.
Cole reached for his phone.
“Get a warrant for the Rockport property.”
Hannah picked up another photograph.
This one showed Michael beside an older man.
The older man had written something on the back.
MICHAEL KNOWS THE SECOND TRUST EXISTS.
Hannah showed Jonathan.
His face drained of color.
“There is no second trust.”
Richard looked at him.
“Are you sure?”
Jonathan stared at the handwriting.
Then at the sealed envelope marked FOR OWEN.
May you like
“No,” he said quietly.
“For the first time tonight, I’m not sure of anything.”
