Chapter 4 - The Name on the Second Envelope
Patricia didn't answer her phone.
Neither did Ryan.
By six that evening, what had begun as a funeral had turned into a police investigation.
Jonathan's office had certified copies of Walter's will, so stealing the original didn't magically erase it.
Apparently Ryan and Patricia didn't understand that.
Or they were after something else.
Noah sat at our kitchen table.
He had changed out of his suit.
The sealed letter Walter had left him rested nearby.
He had read it twice.
I had not.
“It was meant for you,” I said.
He nodded.
“Want to talk about it?”
“Not yet.”
That hurt a little.
Then I reminded myself that being his mother did not make me entitled to every thought inside his head.
Walter had taught me that accidentally.
Noah had spent four years sitting on that porch.
They had a friendship that existed independently of me.
I made coffee I didn't need.
David sat in our living room because Jonathan had strongly suggested everyone remain together until police located Ryan.
I hated having him there.
But I hated the possibility of Ryan appearing more.
Jonathan stood near the front window making phone calls.
At seven-thirty, Patricia's husband arrived.
His name was Mark Dawson.
He looked exhausted.
“I don't know where Patricia is.”
Jonathan crossed his arms.
“When did you last see her?”
“At the church.”
“Did she tell you about Walter's will?”
Mark looked toward Noah.
“She knew her father changed it.”
“How?”
“She found some paperwork six months ago.”
Jonathan's eyes narrowed.
“What paperwork?”
“A draft.”
That explained part of it.
Patricia knew Walter planned to leave something to Noah.
Mark continued.
“She was furious.”
“Why?”
“She thought her father was being manipulated.”
Noah stood.
“I never asked him for anything.”
Mark looked ashamed.
“I know.”
“How?”
“Walter talked about you.”
Noah stopped.
“All the time.”
Mark gave a sad smile.
“He called you the Saturday kid.”
Noah looked down.
Mark continued.
“Patricia didn't understand.”
“What didn't she understand?” I asked.
“That Walter wasn't angry at his family.”
“Then why leave Noah the house?”
Mark looked toward Jonathan.
“Because Patricia was selling hers.”
I frowned.
“What?”
“Walter helped her financially for years.”
Apparently Patricia and Mark had suffered through several failed businesses.
Walter paid off credit cards.
Helped with college tuition for their children.
Covered part of a mortgage.
More than once.
“Noah didn't replace his family,” Mark said. “Walter had already given his family plenty.”
Noah looked uncomfortable.
“That's not my business.”
“No,” Mark said. “But my wife made it yours.”
Jonathan's phone rang.
He answered.
Listened.
Then looked at us.
“They found Patricia's car.”
“Where?”
“Walter's old storage unit.”
Mark frowned.
“He doesn't have a storage unit.”
Jonathan looked toward the second envelope.
“Yes, he does.”
He picked it up.
DAVID MERCER.
“I think it's time we open this.”
David stood.
The envelope contained a key.
And a letter.
Jonathan handed it to David.
He read silently.
His hands started shaking.
“What does it say?” Noah asked.
David looked at him.
“Walter wanted me to make something right.”
“What?”
David sat.
“He knew about a trust.”
“What trust?”
David looked at me.
“One Ryan was supposed to receive.”
I laughed bitterly.
“Of course.”
“My wife died nine years ago. She created separate trusts for our children.”
“Ryan has siblings?”
“A sister.”
Noah looked surprised.
“I have an aunt?”
“Yes.”
“Does she know about me?”
David closed his eyes.
“Yes.”
Noah laughed once.
No humor.
“Great.”
David continued.
“Ryan's trust was worth around four hundred thousand dollars.”
My mouth went dry.
“What happened?”
“He burned through everything else. But the trust had restrictions.”
“Meaning?”
“He couldn't access the principal until he was forty.”
“And he's forty?”
“Forty-two.”
Noah frowned.
“Then why didn't he take it?”
David looked at the letter.
“Because my wife added a provision.”
“What provision?”
“If Ryan had a biological child, a portion would transfer to that child when the child turned eighteen.”
Silence.
Noah stared.
“How much?”
David hesitated.
“One half.”
Two hundred thousand dollars.
Noah stepped back.
“So he questioned whether I was his because…”
“Because if you weren't, he kept all of it.”
I felt nauseated.
Ryan hadn't doubted paternity because he was confused.
He wanted paperwork.
He wanted money.
Jonathan suddenly understood.
“The DNA test.”
David nodded.
“Walter found out.”
“How?”
“I told him.”
Jonathan rubbed his forehead.
“And that's what was inside the blue case.”
“Probably.”
Noah walked to the kitchen door.
He looked outside toward Walter's dark house.
For four years, he had crossed that street to do a simple thing.
Now adults had wrapped greed around it until even the grass seemed complicated.
“I don't want the trust,” he said.
David stood.
“It belongs to you.”
“I don't want anything from him.”
“Your grandmother wanted you to have it.”
“She never knew I existed.”
David's face collapsed.
“She did.”
Noah turned.
“What?”
“She knew.”
That was worse.
David's wife had known about Noah before she died.
“How?”
“Ryan told us after you were born.”
I gripped the counter.
“So both of you knew?”
“Yes.”
“And neither of you contacted us.”
“My wife wanted to.”
“But?”
“I stopped her.”
Noah stared.
“Why?”
“Because Ryan threatened to disappear completely if we interfered.”
I couldn't believe what I was hearing.
“So you chose your adult son over your infant grandson.”
David didn't defend himself.
“Yes.”
Noah nodded.
“At least that's an honest answer.”
The doorbell rang.
Every person in the room froze.
Jonathan moved toward the window.
Two police officers stood outside.
Between them was Patricia.
Her face was streaked with tears.
Mark rushed toward the door.
The officers brought her inside.
“Where's Ryan?” I asked.
Patricia looked at Noah.
“I didn't know.”
“Didn't know what?”
“He lied to me.”
“About?”
“The will.”
Jonathan stepped forward.
“Where is my original?”
She handed him a folder.
“I took it.”
“Why?”
“Ryan said there was another version.”
“What other version?”
Patricia started crying.
“He said Dad had signed a later will leaving Noah everything.”
Jonathan frowned.
“There is no later will.”
“I know that now.”
“Where's the blue case?”
“I don't have it.”
“Ryan?”
She nodded.
“He opened it at the storage unit.”
“What was inside?”
“I didn't see everything.”
“What did you see?”
“A DNA report. Bank records. Letters.”
“Anything else?”
Patricia looked at Noah.
“A photograph.”
Noah frowned.
“Of who?”
“I don't know.”
She swallowed.
“Walter had written a name on the back.”
“What name?”
Patricia shook her head.
“I only saw it for a second.”
“Try.”
She closed her eyes.
Then opened them.
“Elena.”
David dropped the letter.
I looked at him.
“Who is Elena?”
He went completely pale.
Noah noticed.
“Grandpa?”
It was the first time Noah had called him that.
David barely seemed to hear it.
He looked at Jonathan.
“Walter knew?”
Jonathan picked up the second envelope again.
There was something else inside.
A folded photograph.
He turned it over.
On the back, Walter had written:
ELENA MERCER — FIND HER BEFORE RYAN DOES.
Noah stared at the name.
“Who is she?”
David whispered the answer.
“My daughter.”
Then my phone rang.
Unknown number.
I answered.
A woman spoke before I could say anything.
“Is Noah with you?”
“Yes.”
Her voice broke.
“Don't let Ryan near him.”
“Who is this?”
A pause.
Then:
“My name is Elena Mercer.”
Behind her, a man shouted.
May you like
The call ended.
And somebody started pounding on our back door.
