Chapter 6 - The Price of a Daughter
At 2:13 in the morning, someone tried to enter Chloe's ICU room using a stolen hospital badge.
The man wore surgical scrubs.
A mask covered his face.
He carried a small medical bag and claimed he had been sent to check the ventilator.
But he made one mistake.
He asked the security officer whether Chloe Bennett was inside.
My daughter's married name was Harrington.
Her hospital identification still reflected that name.
The officer questioned him.
The man turned and ran.
He was stopped near the service elevator by two hospital security guards.
Inside his bag, investigators later found an unmarked syringe, several medications, and a folded photograph of Chloe.
No one could establish a legitimate medical reason for his presence.
By dawn, he was in police custody.
And I was no longer merely frightened.
I was furious.
Agent Torres met me outside the ICU.
"He's refusing to answer questions," she said.
"Who sent him?"
"We're investigating."
"Evelyn."
"We need evidence connecting her to him."
"Garrett already told you his mother arranged it."
"Garrett's statement gives us a lead. We still have to corroborate it."
I wanted to argue.
Instead, I looked through the glass at Chloe.
She had survived a beating, emergency surgery, cardiac arrest, and severe brain trauma.
Now someone had tried to reach her hospital bed.
"Then find the evidence," I said.
Torres nodded.
"We intend to."
Later that morning, she asked me to accompany her to a secure interview room at the federal building.
Garrett had agreed to speak with investigators.
Not because he was remorseful.
Because he wanted a deal.
I watched through a one-way observation window as he sat across from Torres and an attorney.
He wore an expensive charcoal suit.
His hair was neatly combed.
There wasn't a bruise on his face.
The contrast with Chloe's injuries made me sick.
Torres placed a photograph on the table.
It showed my daughter lying at the bus stop.
Garrett looked away.
"Do you recognize her?"
"Of course."
"That's your wife."
"I know who my wife is."
"Then explain why she was found in this condition."
Garrett shifted in his chair.
"Things got out of control."
"What things?"
"She stole documents from my mother's study."
Torres waited.
"She was obsessed with my father's death. She started asking questions about old company records."
"Did you hit her?"
Garrett glanced at his attorney.
"Yes."
The word struck me harder than I expected.
He had admitted it.
Without tears.
Without visible shame.
Just yes.
"With what?"
"A golf club."
I pressed a hand against the glass.
Torres remained composed.
"How many times?"
"I don't remember."
"Did you know she was pregnant?"
"Of course."
"Did she tell you the baby was hurting?"
Garrett stared at the table.
"Yes."
I shut my eyes.
He knew.
He had heard her begging.
And he had continued.
Torres leaned forward.
"Why did you attack her?"
Garrett swallowed.
"Because my mother told me she was going to ruin everything."
"What was she going to ruin?"
"The trust. The company. Everything my family built."
Torres slid another photograph across the table.
It showed the silver jewelry box.
"Did Chloe find this?"
Garrett's face changed.
"Where did you get that?"
"Answer the question."
"Yes."
"What did she discover?"
Garrett looked toward his attorney.
The attorney nodded slightly.
Garrett leaned back.
"She found a recording. And she found letters."
"What letters?"
"Letters from her father."
"Daniel Bennett?"
Garrett gave a bitter laugh.
"That's what everyone called him."
My stomach tightened.
Torres didn't react.
"What do you mean?"
Garrett rubbed his forehead.
"My mother said Daniel wasn't just some employee. He was a silent partner in the original business. He owned shares that were hidden from public records."
"Why?"
"Because my grandfather had a dispute with the other investors. Daniel helped finance the company when it was collapsing. He kept his ownership private."
Torres leaned forward.
"And the trust?"
"Daniel transferred those shares into Chloe's name before the warehouse fire."
"Why was the money tied to her marriage?"
Garrett looked miserable for the first time.
"Because my mother had the documents altered."
Torres went still.
"Explain."
"The original trust was supposed to protect Chloe until she turned twenty-five. My mother used lawyers and forged amendments to make it look like the assets would remain under Harrington control unless Chloe married into the family."
I felt the room spinning.
Chloe would turn twenty-five in four months.
She had been close to gaining control of the money Daniel had left her.
Torres asked, "Did your mother arrange your marriage?"
Garrett nodded.
"She told me Chloe was the only way to keep the company."
"Did Chloe know?"
"No."
"Did you love her?"
He looked up sharply.
For a moment, I saw something human in his expression.
"I thought I did."
I wanted to break the glass.
Love didn't look like a golf club.
Love didn't abandon a pregnant woman in freezing rain.
Torres continued.
"Who decided to leave her at the bus stop?"
Garrett's jaw tightened.
"My mother."
"Why?"
"She said the police would believe it was a robbery."
"And you agreed?"
Garrett looked down.
"Yes."
I stepped away from the window.
My knees trembled.
There was nothing left to misunderstand.
Garrett wasn't a helpless son controlled by a cruel mother.
He had made choices.
Terrible, deliberate choices.
And my daughter had paid for them.
Then I heard Torres ask one final question.
"Where is Evelyn Harrington?"
Garrett looked toward the observation window.
For one terrifying second, I thought he could see me.
"I don't know."
"Try harder."
His voice dropped.
"She's going to meet someone."
"Who?"
Garrett hesitated.
"Charles."
Torres leaned forward.
"Your father?"
Garrett nodded.
"I thought he was dead until three weeks ago."
My heart pounded.
"Where are they meeting?"
"I don't know the exact location. But I heard her mention the old Bennett property."
I froze.
The old Bennett property.
Daniel and I had once owned a small farmhouse outside Briar Creek.
We sold it shortly after Chloe was born.
Or at least I believed we had.
Torres asked, "Why would Charles meet her there?"
Garrett stared at the table.
"Because that's where they kept Daniel."
My hand flew to my mouth.
Kept.
Not buried.
Not mourned.
Kept.
I pushed open the observation-room door before anyone could stop me.
"Where is my husband?"
Garrett jerked backward.
"Samantha—"
"WHERE IS DANIEL?"
Two officers moved toward me.
Torres stepped between us.
"Mrs. Bennett, please."
I stared at Garrett.
"You knew?"
He wouldn't meet my eyes.
"You knew my husband was alive?"
His lips trembled.
"My mother told me he was dangerous."
I felt tears burning down my face.
"Where is he?"
Garrett whispered, "I never saw him."
"Then how do you know?"
"Because I heard his voice."
The room went silent.
Garrett looked up.
"Three weeks ago, I heard him begging my mother to leave Chloe alone."
I staggered backward.
My husband had been alive.
He had known about Chloe.
He had tried to protect her.
And somehow, nineteen years after losing him, I was hearing that he'd been close enough to beg for our daughter's life.
Then Torres's phone rang.
She answered, listened, and turned toward me.
"Mrs. Bennett, we have an emergency."
My chest tightened.
"Chloe?"
"No."
May you like
She hesitated.
"The farmhouse at Briar Creek is on fire."
