Chapter 8 - Blackwood House
The police found Graham's car abandoned beside a road leading toward the coast.
His phone had been smashed, and there were traces of blood on the driver's door. The officers couldn't determine whether he had been injured or whether the blood belonged to someone else.
I spent the night staring at my phone, waiting for a call that never came.
By morning, Rebecca had secured the DNA test and delivered the financial audit logs to investigators. Vanessa was moved to a protected location after agreeing to provide a formal statement.
Thomas, meanwhile, discovered that Blackwood House had been purchased through a company registered under a false name.
The property stood on a wooded stretch of coastline, several miles from the nearest town. It had been abandoned for years, according to public records.
But when we arrived with two investigators, the driveway showed fresh tire tracks.
Someone had been there recently.
The house was larger than I expected, with boarded windows, a sagging porch, and a stone chimney rising above the trees. One investigator checked the rear entrance while the other examined the locks.
The front door opened with a reluctant creak.
Inside, the air smelled of dust and damp wood.
We found an office on the second floor. A metal cabinet stood against one wall, its doors hanging open. The shelves were empty except for a single leather-bound notebook.
Thomas picked it up carefully.
“Robert's handwriting,” he said.
The notebook contained lists of property purchases, meeting dates, and payments made to various business partners. Several entries referenced Victor Hale.
Then we found a letter addressed to my father.
It was signed by Anna Shaw.
Robert, if anything happens to me, please make sure our daughter is safe. I know what Victor has threatened, and I cannot risk bringing her near the company.
My hands began to shake.
Anna had not simply disappeared.
She had been afraid.
The letter continued, describing how Victor had pressured her to surrender documents relating to the Bennett property company. When she refused, he threatened to expose private details about her life and take her daughter away.
The final paragraph was unfinished.
There is one thing I have not told you about the child. The man who claims to be protecting her is—
The sentence stopped.
A noise came from downstairs.
One of the investigators drew his weapon and ordered us to remain where we were.
Footsteps crossed the hall.
Then a familiar voice called out.
“Claire?”
Graham.
I rushed toward the staircase before Thomas caught my arm.
“Wait.”
The investigator moved carefully down the hall. A moment later, he called that the area was clear.
Graham stood in the entryway, pale and exhausted, with a cut above his eyebrow.
I ran to him.
“What happened?”
“Victor's men grabbed me. They wanted to know what I had told you. I escaped when their car stopped at a gas station.”
“Why didn't you go straight to the police?”
“I did. They took my statement. I came here because I remembered the property name from a document Vanessa showed me.”
He glanced at the notebook.
“Did you find anything?”
Thomas handed him the letter.
Graham read it, then looked toward the open doorway.
“This isn't just about the trust. Victor has been trying to erase something that happened years ago.”
A car engine sounded outside.
The investigators rushed to the windows.
A black SUV sped away from the front gate.
One officer ran outside, but the vehicle disappeared around the bend.
On the floor beside the porch, we found a small envelope.
Inside was a photograph of my father standing with Anna and the little girl.
On the back, someone had written:
Ask Margaret what happened on the night Robert died.
I felt the world narrow around me.
My father had died after a sudden heart attack. That was what my mother had always told us. He had been alone in his workshop, and by the time the ambulance arrived, it was too late.
But the note suggested there was more.
I called my mother.
She answered immediately.
“Claire, you need to come home,” she said.
“Why?”
“Because someone has been here.”
I froze.
“Who?”
“I don't know. They broke into the house and went through your father's old things.”
“Mom, did Dad know Anna Shaw?”
Silence.
May you like
Then my mother began to sob.
“Yes,” she whispered. “And I know why he died.”
