Chapter 6: The Daughter Who Never Called
I read the sentence three times.
If Walter ever comes back, do not let him speak to our daughter alone.
The handwriting was unmistakably Thomas's.
The ink had faded, but the warning remained sharp enough to cut through twelve years of memories.
I looked up at Richard.
"What does Rebecca have to do with Walter?""
He didn't answer immediately.
Instead, he pulled the study door shut and checked the hallway.
That small movement frightened me more than any explanation could have.
"Please sit down, Margaret.""
"No.""
My voice sounded stronger than I felt.
"I have spent twelve years sitting down while people tell me things they should have told me years ago. I'm standing until you explain.""
Richard nodded.
"Fair enough.""
He placed his briefcase on the desk.
"When Thomas first began investigating the land, he discovered that Walter had been speaking to Rebecca about a financial opportunity. She was in her early twenties at the time.""
I gripped the notebook.
"Rebecca was twenty-four. She had just started working at a bank.""
"That's right.""
"What opportunity?""
"According to Thomas, Walter told her that a developer wanted to purchase the land. He claimed he could arrange a substantial payment if she helped gather certain family documents.""
I shook my head.
"Why would my daughter do that?""
"He may have told her he was helping the family. We don't know exactly what she was told.""
I looked at the name again.
Rebecca had always been careful with money. Even as a child, she saved her allowance in a jar and counted every coin before spending anything.
She was also fiercely loyal to people she trusted.
Walter had been part of our family for most of her childhood.
"Did she give him the documents?""
Richard opened the leather notebook to another page.
"There is a note here. Thomas wrote that a copy of the original deed had disappeared from his filing cabinet. He suspected Walter had obtained it through Rebecca, but he wasn't certain.""
I felt sick.
"You're telling me my husband thought our daughter had stolen from us?""
"No," Richard said quickly.
"He suspected she had been manipulated. Those are two very different things.""
I wanted to believe him.
I needed to believe him.
But suddenly, memories I had never questioned began rearranging themselves.
Rebecca had moved to Phoenix shortly after Thomas died. She had called me less frequently each year. Whenever I asked about coming home, she always had a reason she couldn't.
Work.
The children.
Her husband's schedule.
Money.
I had told myself that was simply what happened when children became adults.
Now I wondered whether there was something else.
"Why didn't Thomas tell me?""
Richard lowered his eyes.
"I think he wanted to protect her. And I think he was afraid you would confront Walter before he had proof.""
I sank into the chair.
For the first time that night, my legs felt too weak to hold me.
"What happened to the land?""
Richard turned the notebook toward me.
"Thomas believed Walter had submitted documents transferring an interest in the property to a company he controlled. But he didn't know whether the transfer had been completed legally.""
He tapped the folded map.
"That company appears to have been dissolved several years later. If the transfer was fraudulent, the property may still belong to your family.""
"And if it wasn't?""
"Then we need to understand why Thomas believed the deed was forged.""
I stared at the map.
A red line marked the boundaries of the land. Beside it, Thomas had written a series of numbers and a date.
Below that, he had added another sentence.
The original is not in the county file.
I looked up.
"What original?""
Richard examined the note.
"The original deed, perhaps. Or the original transfer agreement.""
"Where would Thomas have kept it?""
Richard considered the question.
Then his eyes moved toward the old blue house around us.
"Somewhere he believed Walter would never think to look.""
We searched the desk, the filing cabinet, and the shelves in the study.
We found insurance documents, old tax returns, photographs, and receipts from businesses that had been closed for decades.
But no deed.
At two in the morning, Daniel joined us with a flashlight.
He listened while Richard explained what we had discovered.
"Could Thomas have hidden the document somewhere outside the house?"" Daniel asked.
"He might have," Richard replied.
Daniel looked toward the window.
"Then we'll search the shed when it's light.""
I shook my head.
"You gentlemen have done more than enough.""
Daniel gave me a look that reminded me of Thomas whenever I tried to carry something heavy by myself.
"Mrs. Ellis, with all due respect, your husband spent years helping people who couldn't defend themselves. Let us help you for once.""
I had no answer.
By three o'clock, the house finally quieted.
I returned to my bedroom and sat beside the telephone.
There was one person who could answer some of my questions.
Rebecca.
I dialed her number.
It rang four times before she answered.
"Mom?""
Her voice was thick with sleep.
"Is everything okay?""
I nearly broke down at the sound of it.
For a moment, I was transported back to the days when she was a little girl and came running into my bedroom after a nightmare.
"Yes, sweetheart," I said.
"I'm sorry to wake you.""
"What's wrong? Are you sick?""
"No. I need to ask you something about your father.""
The silence on the other end lasted a little too long.
"What about Dad?""
"Do you remember Walter Briggs?""
Another pause.
"Of course. Why?""
"Did he ever discuss your father's land with you?""
I heard rustling, then the sound of a door closing.
"Mom, where is this coming from?""
"Please answer me.""
Rebecca exhaled sharply.
"Yes. He spoke to me about it years ago. Dad told me there was some property dispute, and Walter said he was helping resolve it.""
"Did you give Walter any documents?""
"No.""
The answer came quickly.
Too quickly.
"Rebecca.""
"What?""
"I need you to tell me the truth.""
Her voice hardened.
"I am telling you the truth.""
"Your father kept a notebook. Your name is in it.""
Silence.
Then I heard her whisper something I couldn't make out.
"What did you say?"" I asked.
"Nothing.""
"Rebecca, please.""
When she spoke again, her voice was trembling.
"Mom, I didn't know what Walter was doing. He told me Dad had already agreed to everything.""
"Agreed to what?""
"He said the land was practically worthless and that Dad wanted to sell it to settle some debts.""
My heart pounded.
"Your father had no debts.""
"I know that now!""
Her sudden shout startled me.
For several seconds, neither of us spoke.
Then Rebecca began to cry.
"I was twenty-four, Mom. Walter had known us forever. He said Dad had asked him to handle everything because he was sick. I thought I was helping.""
I closed my eyes.
"Did you sign anything?""
A long silence followed.
"Rebecca?""
"Yes.""
The word was barely audible.
"What did you sign?""
"I don't know. He brought papers to my apartment. He said they were authorization forms so he could request copies of the property records.""
My hand tightened around the receiver.
"Did you read them?""
"I thought I did.""
"Rebecca.""
"I was stupid, okay?"" she cried.
"I trusted him. I signed where he told me to sign, and then he said everything was taken care of.""
I felt anger rise through my chest, but beneath it was something more painful.
My daughter had been frightened, manipulated, and apparently left to carry the shame alone.
"Why didn't you tell me?""
"Because I didn't know anything was wrong until after Dad died.""
Her voice cracked.
"Walter called me a few weeks after the funeral. He said Dad had changed his mind about the land and that I should never discuss it with you because it would only upset you.""
"And you believed him?""
"I was grieving! I had just lost Dad, and you could barely get out of bed. I thought he was protecting us.""
I pressed my fingers against my forehead.
For years, I had believed Rebecca had simply grown distant.
Now I wondered how much of that distance had been built from fear and guilt.
"Sweetheart, I wish you had told me.""
"I know.""
"Why didn't you come home more often?""
She began crying harder.
"Because every time I thought about coming home, I remembered what I signed. I was afraid you would ask about the land. I was afraid you would find out and hate me.""
I stared at the wall.
"Rebecca, I could never hate you for making a mistake.""
"But what if I helped him steal something from you?""
The question hung between us.
I didn't know the answer yet.
But I knew one thing.
"We're going to find out what happened," I said.
"Together.""
She breathed shakily.
"Mom, there's something else.""
My stomach tightened.
"What?""
"Walter called me yesterday.""
I sat up straight.
"Yesterday?""
"Yes. He asked whether I had spoken to you recently. He wanted to know if you still lived in the blue house.""
The room seemed to grow colder.
"What did you tell him?""
"That you did. I didn't think anything of it.""
I looked toward the window.
The headlights from Daniel's motorcycle reflected faintly across the glass.
"Rebecca, listen to me carefully. Do not meet Walter. Do not sign anything else. And don't tell him what we've discussed.""
"Mom, what's happening?""
"Someone is trying to stop us from investigating your father's land.""
She gasped.
"Is that why you called?""
"Yes.""
For several seconds, I heard only her breathing.
Then she said something that made my blood run cold.
"Mom, Walter told me he was coming to see you this weekend.""
I stood so quickly that the telephone cord pulled taut.
"When?""
"Tomorrow afternoon.""
I looked at the clock.
It was nearly four in the morning.
"Rebecca, he may already be watching the house.""
"What? Why would he—"
A sharp knock sounded downstairs.
I froze.
Then another.
Three slow knocks against the front door.
I heard Daniel's voice from the living room.
"Who's there?""
A man's voice answered through the wood.
"Tell Margaret Ellis that Walter Briggs has arrived.""
I clutched the telephone.
Rebecca was still speaking on the other end.
"Mom? What's happening?""
I couldn't answer.
Because Walter's voice came through the door again, clear and confident.
"Margaret, I know Richard Hayes is there. I know about the letter Thomas left you.""
May you like
Then he added the words that made me realize this was no longer just a dispute over land.
*"And if you want to know what really happened during your husband's final week, you'd better open this door.""*
