Chapter 4 - Four Names in an Envelope
Margaret's fingers hovered over the envelope as though touching it might set off an alarm.
“Where did you get their names?” I asked.
She sat down slowly.
“I've known since they were born.”
I felt the floor become unfamiliar beneath my feet.
Daniel had insisted his mother knew nothing.
For eight years, I had believed that particular piece of cruelty belonged to him alone.
Margaret pulled out four birthday cards.
Each was addressed in neat handwriting and dated for a different year.
None had been mailed.
“You knew their birthdays,” I said.
She stared at the fireplace.
“A family contact sent photographs.”
“Who?”
“Patrick arranged it.”
The security chief opened the door with a master key and found both of us unharmed.
I asked him to document the lock malfunction and preserve corridor footage.
Margaret made a halfhearted attempt to stop me leaving.
I carried the envelope downstairs in an evidence sleeve provided by Marlowe.
Inside the drawing room, Daniel stood rigidly beside Caroline.
She had placed the engagement ring on the mantel.
“I think your mother has something to tell you,” I said.
Margaret followed me into the room.
Daniel saw the cards.
“What are those?”
“The grandchildren you told me did not exist,” she said.
For the first time, he looked genuinely confused.
“You told me Kesha lost the pregnancy.”
“I told you what Patrick told me.”
My anger took on an unfamiliar shape.
“You never once called me.”
Margaret's eyes filled, but I could not afford to confuse tears with accountability.
“I was ashamed,” she whispered.
“Ashamed of what?”
“Of being wrong.”
Caroline folded her arms.
“Eight years is a long time to be ashamed in silence.”
Marlowe asked to examine the cards, and Margaret consented.
Several were accompanied by bank transfer slips referencing a trust called the Reynolds Heirs Educational Fund.
I had never heard of it.
Daniel shook his head.
“My children have a trust?”
I corrected him.
“They are my children.”
He looked wounded, as though the distinction were unkind.
The account statements showed money entering and leaving in oddly matched amounts.
Marlowe studied one routing number and quietly called Pike.
He returned with a file open on his tablet.
The same routing number appeared in the veterans foundation investigation.
No one spoke for several seconds.
Margaret took one step backward.
“I thought Patrick was helping with their future.”
“Did you authorize these transfers?” Marlowe asked.
Margaret pressed her hand against her chest.
“Some of them.”
“How many?”
Her answer was almost inaudible.
“All of them.”
A house phone rang in the corridor.
The security chief answered, listened, and looked toward us.
“There is a man at the gate asking for Commander Reynolds,” he said.
“He says he has proof that the colonel isn't the person who started this.”
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The man identified himself as Patrick Sloane.
