Chapter 5 - My Husband's Last Hiding Place
The place was a storage shed behind a church on the outskirts of Rolla.
Hal had helped repair its roof when our congregation was short on money.
He had hidden small things there before, usually birthday gifts he didn't want me finding early.
Arthur's assistant gave us a combination for a padlocked cabinet and a letter addressed in Hal's unmistakable handwriting.
I held the envelope for almost a full minute before opening it.
His words were brief.
Quinn, if you're reading this, something has gone badly wrong with Nathan. I hope I'm mistaken. I don't think I am. Keep the records safe, and please don't confuse loving him with trusting him.
For fourteen months I had been angry at Hal for dying first.
Now I was angry that he had spent his final weeks worrying about me.
Elise waited while I cried.
The cabinet contained a red binder, a flash drive, and the original notebook.
Every page had been numbered.
Several entries recorded money Hal and I had lent Nathan over the previous decade.
We had paid a failed business loan, a delinquent tax bill, and a sizeable debt that Nathan called a temporary emergency.
The total exceeded two hundred thousand dollars.
I had known about most of it, but never seen it assembled on one page.
Then we reached an entry dated nine months before Hal died.
Nathan had asked for another loan against the house.
Hal refused and wrote down the date, the amount, and Nathan's response.
He says the money is already promised and that I will regret embarrassing him.
Elise photographed the pages for preservation and checked that the notebook remained intact.
“Do you know whom he owed?” she asked.
“No.”
Under the final entry was a name.
Hollis Development Group.
It meant nothing to me until Elise found a recent email Arthur had saved, discussing a prospective sale of parcels adjoining our property.
My house stood between two tracts a developer wanted to combine for a commercial project.
Our acreage was small, but it gave access to the road.
Suddenly, Nathan's obsession with the deed made sense.
He wasn't merely trying to get control of savings.
He needed my signature removed from the equation so he could promise something he didn't own.
On our way out, I saw fresh tire marks beside the shed.
I pointed them out to Elise.
She glanced toward the road.
A dark SUV was parked under the trees.
Its engine was running.
I didn't need my old training to know we had been followed.
When Elise lifted her phone, the SUV turned away without headlights.
“Don't chase it,” I said.
“I wasn't going to.”
But she had already photographed its license plate.
That night, I called the motel desk and asked whether anyone had been asking about my room.
The young clerk paused.
“Your son was here earlier.”
My stomach tightened.
May you like
“He said you forgot to tell him your room number.”
