The Empty Backpack: The Secret My Husband's Family Tried to Bury

Malcolm stared at the signature.

For several seconds, he didn't move.

"That's impossible.""

Patricia adjusted her glasses.

"I'm afraid the document carries his father's signature.""

"My father died five years ago.""

"I know.""

Malcolm picked up the page.

"Then someone forged it.""

Patricia nodded slowly.

"That is one possibility. Another is that the document was prepared earlier and submitted after his death.""

I looked at the date again.

The property transfer had been recorded two years ago.

Three years after Malcolm's father died.

"Who would have access to his signature?""

Malcolm lowered the document.

"My sister.""

Patricia closed the folder.

"That's why I wanted you here. We need to investigate the transfer before anyone has an opportunity to destroy the supporting records.""

Malcolm paced around the room.

"I can't believe this.""

I touched his shoulder.

"Malcolm, we need to keep going.""

He turned toward Patricia.

"Can you stop the property from being sold?""

"I can request an emergency legal hold and notify the relevant authorities. But I need the original trust documents.""

"The envelope," I said.

Patricia nodded.

"Exactly.""

Malcolm reached for his phone.

"I'm calling Tasha.""

Patricia raised a hand.

"Don't confront her yet.""

"Why?""

"Because if she has the original documents, she may destroy them. We need to know where the envelope is before she realizes we understand its significance.""

I remembered the photograph.

Tasha outside the bank.

Holding the brown envelope.

"Could she have put it in a safe-deposit box?""

Patricia looked at me.

"Possibly. Did you recognize the bank?""

I pulled out my phone and showed her the photograph.

She studied it.

Then she zoomed in on the background.

"That's the branch on Peachtree Street.""

Malcolm frowned.

"How do you know?""

"I handled Danielle's original trust account there.""

Patricia stood.

"There's something else you should understand. If Tasha opened that envelope, she may have discovered the property records and the additional beneficiary provisions.""

"Which means she knows we're looking for them," I said.

Patricia nodded.

"And that makes the next forty-eight hours important.""

We returned home shortly after noon.

The house was unusually quiet.

Jordan was at school.

Ava had gone to a friend's house.

Isaiah was sitting on the couch with a coloring book.

When he saw Malcolm, he jumped up.

"Dad!""

Malcolm dropped his briefcase and embraced him.

"Hey, buddy.""

"Did you find out about my mommy's letter?""

Malcolm looked at me.

Then he crouched in front of his son.

"Yes. We did.""

"Was she mad at me?""

Malcolm's eyes filled.

"No, son. Your mother loved you more than anything.""

"Did she leave me something?""

Malcolm glanced toward the study.

"She left you a lot of things. And we're going to make sure nobody takes them from you again.""

Isaiah smiled.

Then he asked, "Can I show you something?""

He ran upstairs and returned with a small plastic box.

Inside were drawings, old photographs, and a few birthday cards.

"This is the stuff Mommy gave me before she got sick.""

He pulled out a folded piece of paper.

"Dad, do you remember this?""

Malcolm unfolded it.

It was a child's drawing of a house.

Three figures stood outside.

A woman.

A man.

And a little boy holding a yellow balloon.

On the back was a note written in Danielle's handwriting.

One day, when you're older, I hope you understand that a home is where people make room for you.

Malcolm pressed the paper against his chest.

I turned away to wipe my eyes.

Then Isaiah pointed toward the staircase.

"Aunt Tasha said I shouldn't keep those things.""

Malcolm looked up.

"Why?""

"She said they make everybody sad.""

I felt something harden inside me.

Malcolm gently took his son's hand.

"Your mother's memories are not something you need to hide.""

Isaiah nodded.

Then he asked, "Can I keep them in my room?""

"Absolutely.""

For the first time in days, the boy looked genuinely happy.

I helped him carry the box upstairs.

When I returned to the kitchen, Malcolm was staring at his phone.

"What happened?""

He showed me a message.

It was from Tasha.

I'm going to stay with a friend for a few days. Don't contact me until you can speak respectfully.

I frowned.

"She's leaving?""

"Apparently.""

I looked toward the garage.

Her suitcase was missing.

"Malcolm, she might be trying to disappear.""

He immediately called her.

No answer.

He tried again.

Straight to voicemail.

Then another message arrived.

You have no idea what you're accusing me of. If you involve Patricia, you will destroy more than my life.

Malcolm showed me.

I read it twice.

"She's afraid.""

He nodded.

"She knows we're getting close.""

At 3:15, my phone rang.

It was Jordan's school.

I answered.

"Hello?""

"Mrs. Carter, this is the school counselor. There's something I think you should know.""

I sat down.

"Is Jordan okay?""

"Yes. But we received a report from another student concerning Isaiah.""

My stomach tightened.

"What kind of report?""

The counselor hesitated.

"Apparently, Isaiah told a classmate that he might be changing schools because he couldn't afford the required supplies.""

I closed my eyes.

"He's not changing schools.""

"That's good to hear. But there's another issue. Someone contacted the school office this morning claiming to be Isaiah's legal guardian.""

My blood ran cold.

"Who?""

"Tasha Carter.""

I stood.

"What did she say?""

"She requested copies of Isaiah's enrollment records and asked whether the school had received any documents concerning a change in custody.""

I couldn't speak.

"Mrs. Carter?""

"I'm here.""

"We didn't release anything. But we thought you and Mr. Carter should know.""

I thanked her and hung up.

Malcolm was standing in the doorway.

"What happened?""

I told him.

His face became hard.

"She has no legal custody of Isaiah.""

"I know.""

"Why would she ask for those documents?""

I looked at the staircase.

"Maybe because she knows she's losing control of the money.""

Malcolm grabbed his keys.

"I'm going to find her.""

I blocked the doorway.

"No.""

"Renee—"

"Patricia told us not to confront her. If she's trying to change custody records, we need to document everything and get legal help.""

He stared at me.

Then slowly put his keys down.

I called Patricia.

She answered immediately.

When I explained what had happened, she became very quiet.

"Renee, I need you to listen carefully.""

"What?""

"Did Tasha ever tell you that Danielle had a sister?""

I frowned.

"No. I didn't know she had one.""

"Her name was Evelyn. She died several years ago, but she had a son.""

"Okay.""

Patricia paused.

"That young man was adopted into another family. However, Danielle left instructions that he should be contacted if Isaiah's inheritance was ever threatened.""

"Why?""

"Because he may have information about the original property transfer.""

I looked at Malcolm.

"Who is he?""

Patricia gave us a name.

*Daniel Brooks.*

Malcolm shook his head.

"Never heard of him.""

"That's understandable," Patricia said.

"But there's something else.""

Her voice dropped.

"Daniel contacted me this morning. He says he has proof that Tasha wasn't acting alone.""

I felt my pulse quicken.

"Who helped her?""

Patricia hesitated.

Then she said, "Someone inside your household.""

I looked toward the stairs.

The children were upstairs.

Malcolm was standing beside me.

And Tasha was gone.

"Who?"" I whispered.

Patricia answered.

"Your housekeeper, Mrs. Evelyn.""

I froze.

Mrs. Evelyn had worked for Malcolm's family for almost fifteen years. She had helped raise Isaiah after Danielle died. She had attended our wedding and brought homemade food whenever the children were sick.

She was practically family.

Malcolm shook his head.

"No. Evelyn would never do that.""

Patricia's reply was chilling.

"Then you should ask her why she was at the bank with Tasha yesterday.""

The call ended.

Before either of us could speak, the front door opened.

Mrs. Evelyn walked in carrying two grocery bags.

She looked at us.

Then at Malcolm's phone.

And immediately dropped the bags.

Apples rolled across the kitchen floor.