Chapter 10 - THE LIST OF PEOPLE WHO DISAPPEAREDThe phrase good people book haunted me.
My father believed in people.
Sometimes too much.
He gave second chances.
Forgave mistakes.
Lent money to employees facing emergencies.
Helped families whose homes were threatened by foreclosure.
He wasn't perfect.
But he believed success meant being able to lift someone else.
And now I wondered how many people had known about the theft before he died.
Rebecca's investigator traced the safe deposit box through old bank records.
The process took weeks.
But eventually, he confirmed that my father had rented a box at a local branch in Providence.
Access records showed several visits shortly before his death.
One entry was in my father's name.
Another was in my mother's.
The records did not establish exactly what had been removed.
But they gave us a starting point.
Rebecca contacted Richard.
He remembered the box.
“Edward used it for original contracts and important personal documents.”
I leaned forward.
“Did he keep a notebook there?”
Richard hesitated.
“He may have.”
I frowned.
“Why are you uncertain?”
“Because Edward didn't tell me everything he stored there.”
I nodded.
Then Richard added something unexpected.
“He did mention a list.”
My heart jumped.
“What list?”
“People he believed could verify the financial transfers.”
Rebecca leaned forward.
“Witnesses?”
“Potentially.”
“Who were they?”
Richard shook his head.
“I never saw the complete list.”
I felt frustrated.
Every answer led to another question.
Then Richard said:
“But I remember one name.”
I sat upright.
“Who?”
“Thomas Reed.”
The name sounded familiar.
I searched my memory.
Then it clicked.
“Dad's accountant?”
Richard nodded.
“Yes.”
Thomas Reed had worked for Whitmore Holdings for decades.
He was quiet, meticulous, and always wore bow ties.
I remembered him bringing homemade cookies to company Christmas parties.
“Where is he?”
Richard's expression darkened.
“He retired shortly after Edward died.”
“Can we contact him?”
“We can try.”
Thomas Reed lived in a small house outside Hartford, Connecticut.
When Rebecca's investigator called, Thomas agreed to speak with us.
Three days later, Rebecca and I sat in his living room.
He was seventy-three.
His hands trembled slightly.
But his eyes were sharp.
He looked at me for a long moment.
“Claire Whitmore.”
I smiled sadly.
“Bennett now.”
He nodded.
“You look like your father.”
I swallowed.
“Everyone keeps saying that.”
Thomas smiled.
“That's because it's true.”
Then his expression grew serious.
“I heard about the wedding.”
I looked down.
“It's been difficult.”
He nodded.
“I imagine.”
Rebecca opened her notebook.
“Mr. Reed, we're trying to establish what Edward knew about the financial transfers before his death.”
Thomas sighed.
“I warned him.”
My heart jumped.
“About Nathaniel?”
He nodded.
“I discovered irregularities in several accounts. Large transfers. Missing approvals. Unusual corporate entities.”
“Did you tell Dad?”
“Yes.”
“What did he do?”
“He was furious.”
Thomas looked at me.
“But he didn't want to believe Margaret was involved.”
My chest tightened.
“He loved her.”
“Yes.”
Thomas nodded sadly.
“He kept asking me to check the records again. He thought there had to be an explanation.”
I closed my eyes.
That sounded like Dad.
Always looking for a reason to believe the best.
“Then what happened?” Rebecca asked.
Thomas looked toward the window.
“Nathaniel found out.”
My stomach tightened.
“How?”
“I don't know.”
His voice lowered.
“He came to my office one evening. Told me I was making mistakes. Said I should retire before I embarrassed myself.”
I stared.
“Was he threatening you?”
Thomas nodded.
“I believe so.”
“Did you report it?”
“No.”
“Why?”
He looked ashamed.
“Because I was afraid.”
I felt an unexpected wave of compassion.
Fear.
It had controlled so many people in this story.
My mother used it as an excuse.
Vanessa used it as a weapon.
And people like Thomas had been silenced by it.
Thomas continued.
“Edward told me he was going to the authorities.”
My heart pounded.
“When?”
“The week he died.”
I swallowed.
“Did he have evidence?”
“Yes.”
“What kind?”
“Bank records. Emails. Internal authorization logs.”
Rebecca leaned forward.
“Do you still have copies?”
Thomas hesitated.
Then he stood.
“Come with me.”
He led us into a small study.
Books lined the walls.
A desk sat beneath the window.
Thomas opened a filing cabinet.
Inside was a sealed envelope.
He placed it on the desk.
“Edward gave me this three days before he died.”
My breath caught.
“Why?”
“He said if anything happened to him, I should give it to someone who would protect Claire and Lily.”
I stared.
“Why didn't you?”
Thomas's eyes filled.
“Because Nathaniel called me after the funeral.”
My stomach tightened.
“What did he say?”
Thomas swallowed.
“He knew about the envelope.”
Rebecca leaned forward.
“How?”
“I don't know.”
Thomas began trembling.
“He told me my wife would lose her medical coverage if I interfered.”
I felt sick.
His wife had suffered from a chronic illness.
I remembered Dad helping them with hospital bills.
Thomas continued.
“I was a coward.”
I shook my head.
“You were frightened.”
His eyes filled.
“That doesn't make it right.”
“No,” I whispered. “But I understand.”
He pushed the envelope toward me.
“I kept it all these years.”
Rebecca carefully documented its condition before opening it.
Inside was a small storage drive.
Several printed emails.
And a letter.
The letter was addressed to Thomas.
But the final paragraph mentioned me.
If Claire ever learns what happened, tell her I was never ashamed of her. Tell her I was proud of the woman she became.
I began crying.
Thomas handed me a tissue.
Then Rebecca examined the emails.
Her expression changed.
“Claire, look at this.”
I leaned forward.
One email was from Nathaniel to my mother.
Dated four days before Dad died.
Edward has the records. We need to act before he freezes the accounts.
The next was my mother's reply.
I'll handle Edward. You handle the documents.
My stomach dropped.
Rebecca read the final message.
It was from Nathaniel.
If the meeting goes badly, we use the alternative.
I stared at her.
“What alternative?”
She continued scrolling.
Then she stopped.
Her face went pale.
“Claire.”
My heart hammered.
“What?”
She turned the screen toward me.
The final email contained an attachment.
A document titled:
“CONTINGENCY PLAN — EDWARD WHITMORE.”
May you like
And beneath the title was a line that made my entire body go cold.
“In the event of Edward's sudden death, execute the following transfers immediately.”
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