Chapter 7: The Name on the Receipt
“Who?””
My voice barely came out.
Mom stared at the floor.
“Your aunt Margaret.””
I blinked.
“Aunt Margaret?””
Dad nodded slowly.
“She paid the first deposit.””
“But why?””
Mom's hands trembled in her lap.
“Because Ryan asked her to.””
“That doesn't make sense.””
“It didn't to me either,” Dad said.
I looked between them.
“How much?””
“Twenty-five thousand dollars.””
The number landed heavily in the room.
“Twenty-five thousand?””
Mom nodded.
“Ryan told her the deposit was refundable. He said Vanessa's family would reimburse her after the wedding.””
“Did they?””
“No.””
“Then why didn't Aunt Margaret tell me?””
“She thought you knew.””
I laughed bitterly.
“Apparently everyone thought I knew everything.””
Detective Harris stepped closer.
“Where is Margaret now?””
Mom gave him her phone.
“She lives two towns over.””
Harris dialed the number.
While he spoke quietly, I stared at the evidence bag containing the USB drive.
The room felt smaller.
There were too many pieces.
The forged signatures.
The insurance policy.
The money.
The photograph of Emma.
And now Aunt Margaret's $25,000 deposit.
Ryan had been building something.
But I still didn't understand what.
Then Detective Harris ended the call.
“She says Ryan approached her six months ago.””
“Six months?””
“Yes.””
“What did he tell her?””
“That he was starting a business venture.””
I frowned.
“What kind?””
“Real estate.””
Ryan had never mentioned real estate.
Harris continued.
“He borrowed money from several relatives.””
“How many?””
“We're still identifying them.””
My father's face changed.
“Several?””
Harris nodded.
“Your brother appears to have accumulated significant private debts.””
I felt sick.
“Why the wedding?””
“To create the appearance of financial stability.””
I looked at him.
“What does that mean?””
“He was using the wedding to impress potential investors.””
“Investors?””
“Yes.””
Harris opened his folder.
“There are emails suggesting Ryan planned to announce a new company during the reception.””
I stared at the documents.
“What company?””
“Bennett Hospitality Group.””
I almost laughed.
“My company is Bennett Catering.””
“I know.””
“He was going to use my company?””
“That's what we're investigating.””
I remembered the contracts.
My business license.
The transfers.
The forged documents.
He wasn't simply trying to steal money.
He was trying to make himself look legitimate.
Using me.
Using my company.
Using the wedding.
Everything suddenly clicked.
Except the insurance.
“Detective.””
“Yes?””
“Why would he insure himself and make me the beneficiary?””
Harris's expression became serious.
“That is the part we haven't solved.””
The front door opened.
A police officer stepped inside.
“Detective?””
Harris turned.
“We found the vehicle.””
“What vehicle?””
“The black SUV from yesterday.””
My pulse jumped.
“Who owns it?””
The officer hesitated.
“That's the problem.””
He handed Harris a photograph.
“The plates were stolen.””
Harris looked at me.
“Did you see the driver?””
“No.””
“Could you identify him?””
“Maybe.””
He showed me another photograph.
A grainy security image.
A man standing outside my house.
Dark jacket.
Baseball cap.
His face partially obscured.
I stared at it.
Something about him felt familiar.
Then I noticed his shoes.
Brown work boots.
I had seen them before.
“Wait.””
I leaned closer.
“I know him.””
Harris looked up.
“Who?””
“I don't know his name.””
“Where have you seen him?””
“At Ryan's wedding tasting.””
Harris's eyes narrowed.
“When?””
“Two weeks ago.””
The man had stood near the loading area.
Ryan had introduced him as a “vendor.””
I remembered because he had asked unusual questions.
How many staff members would be at the wedding?
What time would the kitchen close?
Which entrance would caterers use?
At the time, I thought he was part of the venue security team.
Now I wasn't so sure.
Harris wrote something down.
“Anything else?””
I shook my head.
Then my mother suddenly spoke.
“There was another man.””
Everyone turned.
“What man?”” I asked.
Mom looked frightened.
“The night Ryan brought those documents here.””
“When was that?””
“Three weeks ago.””
“Who was with him?””
“I don't know.””
“Mom.””
She looked at Dad.
“He introduced him as Daniel.””
My heart stopped.
“Daniel what?””
“I don't know.””
Detective Harris immediately reached for his phone.
“Did you see him clearly?””
Mom nodded.
“He was tall. Gray hair. Maybe late fifties.””
“Did he say why he was there?””
Mom shook her head.
“He told me Ryan was going to make all of us wealthy.””
I stared at her.
“How?””
“He said Ryan had found a way to turn your catering business into something much bigger.””
My skin prickled.
“What exactly did he say?””
Mom closed her eyes.
“He said, ‘Once Claire signs, the company becomes collateral.’”
Nobody spoke.
I looked at my father.
He looked just as stunned.
“Collateral for what?””
Mom began crying.
“I don't know.””
Detective Harris's phone rang.
He listened for several seconds.
Then his face changed.
“Where?””
He grabbed his jacket.
“Stay here.””
“What happened?””
He looked at me.
“They found the man from the photograph.””
“Where?””
“At the bank.””
“Why?””
Harris paused.
“He was attempting to withdraw money from an account belonging to your company.””
My blood ran cold.
“My account?””
“Yes.””
“Did he get it?””
Harris shook his head.
“No.””
He looked toward the door.
“But he left something behind.””
“What?””
“A folder.””
“What was in it?””
May you like
Harris's eyes met mine.
“Your original birth certificate.””
