I read the note three times.
Ask Denise what happened the night Walter changed his will.
I called Bennett.
He told me not to contact Denise until he could review the handwriting and envelope.
I agreed.
But I couldn't stop thinking about that night.
Walter had changed his will shortly before his death.
I had assumed it was part of the larger plan.
Now I wondered whether something had happened to cause it.
The next morning, Bennett came to the house.
He examined the envelope.
“No fingerprints we can use.”
“Of course.”
“The paper is ordinary.”
“Can you identify the handwriting?”
“Not reliably.”
I handed him the note.
“What if Denise knows?”
“She may.”
“I need to ask her.”
He looked at me for a moment.
“Then ask her with me present.”
Denise agreed to meet that afternoon.
We sat in the same lake house where she had once admitted that Walter had protected her.
She looked tired.
When I showed her the note, her face changed.
“You received this?”
“Yes.”
“Who sent it?”
“I don't know.”
She stared at the words.
Then she whispered, “I hoped that was buried.”
“What happened?”
She looked at Bennett.
Then at me.
“The night Walter changed his will, someone came to see him.”
“Who?”
“I don't know.”
“You saw the person?”
“No.”
“Then how do you know?”
“Because Walter called me afterward.”
I waited.
“What did he say?”
“He said I needed to stop asking questions.”
“About Bellmore?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because someone was threatening him.”
The room seemed to shrink.
“Threatening him with what?”
Denise rubbed her forehead.
“The Bellmore records.”
I looked at Bennett.
He remained still.
Denise continued.
“Walter said someone knew about the investment account.”
“Who?”
“He wouldn't tell me.”
“Did he say what they wanted?”
“Money.”
“How much?”
“A lot.”
“How much?”
“Almost all of it.”
I felt sick.
Walter had been dying.
Someone had been threatening him for money.
And I had known nothing.
“Why didn't you tell me?”
Denise looked ashamed.
“Because Walter told me not to.”
“Again.”
She closed her eyes.
“Yes.”
I stood.
“I am tired of hearing that.”
Denise looked at me.
“I know.”
“I spent sixty-nine years married to a man who believed he had to carry everything himself.”
“I know.”
“And now everyone keeps telling me he asked them to keep things from me.”
“I know.”
I sat down again.
“What did Walter do?”
“He changed the will.”
“Because of the threat?”
“Yes.”
“Why make it look like he left me nothing?”
“Because the person threatening him was watching the estate.”
I stared.
“If they believed I had inherited millions, they would come after me.”
“Yes.”
“So he made it appear that I had nothing.”
“Yes.”
“And the trust?”
“Hidden.”
“Yes.”
“The Bellmore account?”
“Hidden.”
“Yes.”
“And the lake house?”
“Visible.”
I understood.
The lake house had been a decoy.
The trust was protected.
The investment account was protected.
The will was bait.
Walter had tried to make the people watching him believe there was nothing worth taking.
Denise lowered her voice.
“But he didn't know whether the threat would continue after he died.”
“What happened next?”
“He told me if anyone approached you, I had to stay away.”
I stared at her.
“That was his final instruction?”
“Yes.”
“And you ignored it.”
She nodded.
“I did.”
I believed her.
“What did the person look like?”
“I never saw them.”
“Did Walter give you a name?”
“No.”
“Did he mention Thomas Reed?”
“No.”
“Did he mention anyone from Bellmore?”
“No.”
Bennett finally spoke.
“Was Walter afraid of someone specific?”
Denise looked toward the window.
“He said, ‘This isn't about Denise anymore.’”
I felt a chill.
“What did he mean?”
“I don't know.”
That sentence frightened me more than anything else.
Because Walter had spent decades dealing with family problems.
But this was different.
Someone outside the family had discovered the Bellmore account.
Someone had threatened him.
Someone had tried to obtain the money.
And someone knew enough about our family to imitate Denise's signature.
When I returned home, I found Roman waiting.
He stood on the porch.
“Mom.”
“What are you doing here?”
“I need to tell you something.”
My heart sank.
“What?”
He swallowed.
“I received a letter.”
“When?”
“Two weeks ago.”
I stared at him.
“What kind of letter?”
“It said Dad had left money somewhere.”
My pulse quickened.
“Who sent it?”
“I don't know.”
“Did you keep it?”
“Yes.”
“Where is it?”
“In my car.”
He ran outside.
I followed.
He returned with an envelope.
The same paper.
The same handwriting.
My stomach turned.
“Why didn't you tell me?”
“I thought it was a scam.”
“Did you answer?”
“No.”
“Did you tell anyone?”
He shook his head.
“Not even Janet?”
“No.”
I opened the letter.
It contained only three questions.
Did Walter tell you about Bellmore?
Do you know where the original records are?
Does your mother have access to the account?
I looked at Roman.
“Did you answer any of these?”
“No.”
I believed him.
Then my phone rang.
Unknown number.
I answered.
No one spoke.
“Hello?”
Silence.
Then a man's voice.
“You should stop looking.”
The call ended.
Roman stared at me.
“Mom…”
I looked at Bennett.
He had just stepped onto the porch.
“You heard that?”
“Yes.”
I showed him the number.
He immediately wrote it down.
Then another message appeared.
A photograph.
It showed the front of my house.
Taken from across the street.
My hands went cold.
The caption contained four words.
“Walter couldn't protect you.”
Click here to continue reading: PART 12: The Photograph Outside My House Proved Walter’s Fear Had Survived Him, and I Finally Understood Why His Last Letter Asked Me to Choose
The Morning I Learned My Husband Had Left Me Nothing, Everyone Suddenly Wanted to Decide What Was Best for Me
Part 11 of 20
