Chapter 2 - What Daniel Buried
I froze beside the open floorboard.
Cassandra knocked again.
“Helen, I know you’re inside.”
I looked at Daniel’s letter.
Then at the second board.
Then at the metal box.
My body moved before my mind caught up.
I pushed the box beneath the bed.
I slid the loose floorboard back into place.
I folded Daniel’s letter and tucked it inside my bra.
The knocking became harder.
“Helen!”
I opened the door.
Cassandra stood on the porch wearing a camel-colored coat over black trousers.
A man stood behind her.
Not Martin.
This one was broad-shouldered, mid-fifties, shaved head.
He held a flashlight.
Cassandra looked past me into the cabin.
“I came to check on you.”
I almost laughed.
Instead, I stepped aside.
“How thoughtful.”
Her eyes narrowed.
She entered.
The man remained outside.
Cassandra scanned the room.
“What were you doing?”
“Trying not to freeze.”
“You moved something.”
“I’m seventy-eight. Everything I do looks suspicious because it takes me longer.”
Her mouth tightened.
She walked toward the stove.
My heart climbed into my throat.
She looked down at the floor.
I had replaced the board correctly.
But dust had shifted around the edges.
Cassandra noticed.
Of course she did.
She crouched.
I forced myself not to react.
“What’s this?”
“A floor.”
She touched the seam.
Then looked at me.
“You opened it.”
I shrugged.
“I dropped a spoon.”
“There are no spoons on the floor.”
“I picked it up.”
Cassandra stood.
The man outside moved closer to the doorway.
She stared at me for a long moment.
Then she smiled.
It was the kind of smile that held no warmth.
“Daniel used to come here.”
“Yes.”
“Did he ever tell you why?”
“No.”
That part was true.
She walked slowly around the table.
“He spent money here.”
“I wouldn’t know.”
“Twenty-seven thousand dollars over six years.”
That surprised me.
I said nothing.
“We found withdrawals,” she continued. “Cash. Hardware purchases. Storage invoices.”
“And?”
“And Daniel hated this place.”
“No, he didn’t.”
“He hated being away from me.”
I looked at her.
“That isn’t the same thing.”
Her eyes hardened.
She stepped close.
“I think he hid something.”
I pretended confusion.
“Like what?”
“That’s what I’m asking you.”
“You sent me here.”
“I sent you somewhere you could afford.”
“You sent me somewhere you thought no one would look.”
That landed.
Cassandra’s face flickered again.
A small weakness.
Then it vanished.
She picked up Daniel’s framed photograph from the table.
My hand moved instinctively.
“Put that down.”
She examined his face.
“You still think he was perfect.”
“He was my son.”
“You didn’t know him like I did.”
“No wife knows a man the way his mother does.”
“That’s exactly the kind of thing that made him resent you.”
I went still.
She smiled slightly.
“He told me you suffocated him.”
The words struck harder than I expected.
For a moment I couldn’t answer.
Then I remembered Daniel calling me every Sunday.
Daniel taking me to appointments.
Daniel bringing soup when I had pneumonia.
Daniel sitting beside my husband’s hospital bed and whispering, “I’ll take care of Mom.”
I looked Cassandra in the eyes.
“Then why did he hide things from you?”
Her smile disappeared.
She put the photograph down.
Too hard.
The frame struck the table.
I grabbed it.
Cassandra headed toward the door.
Before leaving, she stopped.
“If you find anything here that belongs to Daniel’s estate, you’re legally required to turn it over.”
“Martin tell you that?”
“Yes.”
“Funny. Martin looked like he wanted to tell me something else.”
Her jaw tightened.
“You’re imagining things.”
“Old women do that.”
She left.
The man followed.
Their vehicle disappeared into the trees.
I waited ten minutes.
Twenty.
Thirty.
Then I locked the door.
I took Daniel’s letter out again.
The phone number on the back had a Denver area code.
There was no cell service.
I remembered Earl mentioning the radio.
I searched the cabin.
In a storage cabinet I found an old satellite phone wrapped in plastic.
Daniel.
It had to be Daniel.
A charger connected to a solar battery sat beside it.
I powered it on.
One bar appeared.
I dialed.
A woman answered on the second ring.
“Wexler.”
I hesitated.
“Bluebird is home.”
Silence.
Then her voice changed.
“Is this Helen Reeves?”
“Yes.”
“My name is Naomi Wexler. I’ve been waiting almost four years for your call.”
My knees weakened.
I sat.
“You knew Daniel?”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“I was his private attorney.”
“Martin Vale was his attorney.”
“Martin was Cassandra’s attorney.”
That sentence changed everything.
Naomi continued.
“Daniel retained me privately after he became concerned about several financial transactions.”
“What transactions?”
“I need to verify something first. Are you alone?”
“Yes.”
“Is Cassandra with you?”
“No.”
“Has she searched the cabin?”
“Yes.”
“Did she find the compartment?”
“No.”
“Good.”
“What is under the second board?”
Naomi paused.
“Proof.”
“Proof of what?”
“Enough to stop Cassandra from selling your home.”
My heart hammered.
“My home?”
“Yes, Mrs. Reeves. Daniel never owned it outright.”
I closed my eyes.
Naomi explained slowly.
Years earlier, when my husband Robert became ill, Daniel had helped restructure our finances.
I remembered signing documents.
I thought they were estate papers.
Some were.
But Daniel had created a trust.
The Reeves Family Residence Trust.
My husband and I were beneficiaries.
After Robert died, I became the sole lifetime beneficiary.
Daniel was trustee.
The property could not legally be sold while I was alive without my consent.
“Then how did Cassandra remove me?”
“She may be relying on forged documents.”
My fingers went cold.
“Forged?”
“We suspected it.”
“Who is we?”
“Daniel and I.”
My chest tightened.
“How long did he know?”
“Two years.”
“Why didn’t he tell me?”
“He was trying to protect you from stress. And he was trying to gather enough evidence to prove who was involved.”
“Cassandra?”
“Possibly others.”
I remembered Martin’s face.
“Martin Vale?”
Naomi did not answer directly.
“Look under the second board.”
I hung up.
The cabin seemed colder.
I knelt again.
I lifted the first board.
Then the second.
Beneath it was another compartment.
Inside lay three things.
A flash drive.
A black ledger.
And a sealed envelope marked:
IF I DIE BEFORE I CAN FIX THIS.
I opened the envelope.
Daniel’s handwriting filled four pages.
He described transfers from his company.
Accounts he didn’t recognize.
Documents submitted in his name.
A forged signature authorizing Cassandra to refinance the family home.
And one name appeared repeatedly.
Martin Vale.
I sat back.
Daniel had known.
Near the bottom of the final page, he wrote:
I confronted Martin. He denied everything. Cassandra doesn’t know I recorded the meeting.
Recording.
I grabbed the flash drive.
There was no computer.
Naomi had told me to secure everything and wait.
But something else bothered me.
Daniel’s death.
He had died after his car went off a mountain road.
Police called it an accident.
Rain.
Poor visibility.
No witnesses.
Cassandra had accepted the explanation immediately.
I had accepted it because grief left no room for suspicion.
Now I read the final paragraph.
Mom, I may be paranoid, but if something happens to me before I can go to federal investigators, do not assume it was an accident.
My hands shook violently.
I called Naomi again.
She answered immediately.
“I found it.”
“Everything?”
“Yes.”
“Do not remove it from the cabin tonight.”
“Why?”
“Because we may need to establish chain of custody.”
“What about Daniel’s accident?”
Silence.
“Naomi?”
“There were things Daniel was investigating that went beyond the trust.”
“Did Cassandra kill my son?”
“I don’t know.”
“Did Martin?”
“I don’t know.”
“Then what do you know?”
Naomi exhaled.
“Daniel sent me an email six hours before his crash.”
“What did it say?”
“He said he had finally found the original.”
“The original what?”
“He didn’t say.”
“Where is it?”
“I believe that’s why he created the third compartment.”
I looked at the floor.
“There are only two.”
“No, Helen.”
My eyes moved toward the iron stove.
Naomi continued.
“Daniel said the third compartment couldn’t be opened from inside the cabin.”
I stood.
Outside, darkness covered the clearing.
I grabbed Robert’s flashlight and walked around the cabin.
Behind the chimney foundation, I saw fresh scratches in the stone.
I pressed one.
A small panel released.
Inside was a waterproof tube.
My fingers barely fit around it.
I pulled.
A rolled document slid free.
Before I could open it, the forest lit up.
Headlights.
Not one vehicle.
Three.
Doors opened.
May you like
Men stepped out.
And this time Cassandra wasn’t with them.
