Chapter 8 - The Warehouse at Millbrook
The Millbrook warehouse smelled of rust, rainwater, and old secrets.
I wasn't supposed to be there.
Detective Bennett had warned me not to approach any property connected to the investigation.
But when Claire Donovan told me investigators had secured the warehouse and were preparing an inventory, I asked whether I could accompany her during an authorized visit.
After speaking with the detective, she arranged it.
I needed to see the place that had haunted Nathan's final email.
Lucas came with me.
So did Richard.
Two officers stood outside the building.
Inside, the warehouse was nearly empty.
Rows of dusty shelves lined the walls.
A forklift sat beneath a tarp.
In the rear office, a faded calendar still hung beside a filing cabinet.
Detective Bennett met us at the door.
"We've recovered business records, electronic devices, and several boxes of archived documents," she said.
"Anything about Nathan?" I asked.
"Possibly."
She led us to a desk.
On it sat a photograph.
Nathan stood beside a delivery truck.
He was smiling.
I touched the edge of the picture.
"He looks happy."
Richard nodded.
"He was."
Bennett opened a folder.
"We've established that several payments moved through Northbridge Logistics without legitimate supporting invoices. We're still tracing where the money ultimately went."
"Was my father stealing from the trust?"
"The evidence suggests substantial financial misconduct. We need to complete the accounting."
"And Nathan?"
She looked at me.
"We believe he discovered irregularities while reviewing delivery records."
I swallowed.
"Did my father try to kill him?"
"We don't have enough evidence to make that determination."
I wanted a different answer.
I wanted certainty.
Instead, I had to accept that the truth was being uncovered piece by piece.
Bennett showed me a photograph of Nathan's damaged vehicle.
The front end was crushed.
The driver's side door had been cut away by emergency responders.
My stomach turned.
"We've requested the original collision records and arranged for a new review," she explained.
"Why?"
"Because of inconsistencies in the maintenance history."
Richard looked pale.
Lucas noticed.
"Dad?"
Richard gripped the back of a chair.
"That truck came through our service yard."
Bennett turned.
"When?"
"Two days before the crash."
"Who worked on it?"
Richard shook his head.
"I don't remember."
Bennett studied him.
"We'll need the records."
Richard nodded.
"I'll get them."
We were leaving when an officer approached carrying a sealed evidence bag.
Inside was a small blue notebook.
I recognized the handwriting on its cover.
Nathan's.
He used to carry notebooks everywhere.
He wrote grocery lists in them.
Phone numbers.
Ideas for fixing old cars.
Once, when I was pregnant, he wrote a list titled Things I Want to Teach Our Kid.
How to ride a bicycle.
How to change a tire.
How to apologize properly.
I had kept that page for years.
Bennett noticed my reaction.
"You recognize this?"
"Yes."
She didn't hand it to me.
But she opened it carefully and showed me several pages.
Most contained dates, license plate numbers, and invoice references.
Near the back, Nathan had written a short note.
Warren thinks the money is the secret.
It isn't.
Beneath that were three initials.
E.H.
P.V.
R.H.
Elaine Holloway.
Patricia Voss.
Richard Hayes.
I looked at Lucas's father.
He stared at the notebook.
"I don't understand."
Bennett closed it.
"Mr. Hayes, we're going to need another formal interview."
Richard nodded slowly.
But something in his expression frightened me.
He didn't look angry.
He looked defeated.
Back at the hospital that evening, Maisie was sitting up in bed.
She was eating applesauce.
A nurse had given her a sticker shaped like a purple butterfly.
When she saw me, she lifted both arms.
"Mommy!"
I crossed the room and held her carefully.
She pressed her face against my neck.
For a few seconds, nothing else existed.
Not the money.
Not the lies.
Not the investigation.
Just my daughter.
Alive.
Warm.
Breathing.
Lucas stood beside us.
Maisie reached for him.
"Loo."
His eyes filled.
"Hey, peanut."
She touched his cheek.
Then she whispered something that made both of us freeze.
"Bad Grandma."
I looked at her.
"What, baby?"
Maisie's lower lip trembled.
"Grandma said quiet."
I held her closer.
"You're safe now."
She pointed toward the door.
"Man took bunny."
Lucas looked at me.
"What man?"
Maisie began crying.
I didn't ask again.
Later, after she fell asleep, I told Detective Bennett exactly what she had said.
The detective listened carefully.
"We'll arrange for a trained child forensic interviewer to determine whether she can provide any reliable information. Please don't question her further about it."
I agreed.
That night, Lucas and I sat together in silence.
Then his phone rang.
It was Richard.
Lucas answered.
"Dad?"
I could hear Richard breathing.
"Son, I need you to listen carefully."
"What's wrong?"
"I found the maintenance records."
Lucas stood.
"And?"
Richard's voice cracked.
"Nathan's vehicle was signed out by someone who shouldn't have had access to it."
"Who?"
A pause.
Then Richard said, "Your mother."
Lucas went white.
May you like
His mother, Diane Hayes, had died six years earlier.
Or at least, that was what everyone had told us.
