The next morning, Kevin called the number written on the business document.
It belonged to an accountant who had handled his father's construction company years earlier.
The man answered after several rings.
“Mr. Mercer?”
“Yes. My name is Kevin Mercer. My father was Thomas Mercer.”
There was a long pause.
“I remember your father.”
“I need to ask you about Daniel Price.”
Another pause.
“Why?”
“Because he was at my wedding.”
The accountant exhaled slowly.
“That is not something I expected to hear.”
Neither did Kevin.
The accountant agreed to meet us that afternoon.
Before we left, Patricia called.
“I want to come.”
Kevin looked at me.
I shook my head.
“Not yet.”
He understood.
“Mom, stay home.”
“I should hear this too.”
“You will.”
“But—”
“Please.”
The call ended.
We drove across town without saying much.
The accountant's office was in an old brick building above a printing shop.
His name was Arthur Bell.
He looked older than the photographs Kevin had found, but his memory seemed sharp.
He recognized Kevin immediately.
“You have your father's eyes.”
Kevin sat down.
“I've been told that.”
Arthur glanced at me.
“And you must be Nora.”
“Yes.”
“I heard about the wedding.”
Kevin looked surprised.
“You knew?”
“Your father knew Patricia was planning it before he died.”
That stopped us.
“My father knew about me?”
Arthur nodded.
“He asked me to keep certain documents.”
“What documents?”
“Business records.”
“Why?”
Arthur folded his hands.
“Because he suspected Daniel was stealing from the company.”
Kevin stared.
“How much?”
“We never established the exact amount.”
“Was it around two hundred thousand?”
Arthur's expression changed.
“Yes.”
I looked at Kevin.
Arthur continued.
“Your father discovered irregular transfers.”
“To Daniel?”
“Mostly.”
“Then why did Mom say she took the money?”
“She didn't.”
Kevin leaned forward.
“Are you saying my mother lied?”
“I am saying your father never accused her.”
The room went quiet.
Arthur opened a drawer.
He removed a thin folder.
“I kept copies.”
Inside were bank statements.
Invoices.
Transfers.
Handwritten notes.
Kevin turned each page slowly.
The dates stretched over several years.
Small amounts.
Then larger ones.
All eventually leading toward accounts connected to Daniel.
I watched Kevin's face.
He wasn't angry yet.
He was stunned.
“Why didn't Dad tell me?”
“Because he planned to.”
Arthur looked down.
“He was going to confront Daniel first.”
“What happened?”
“Your father died.”
Kevin swallowed.
“And then?”
“Daniel disappeared.”
Arthur closed the folder.
“Your mother came to me.”
“What did she say?”
“She wanted the records destroyed.”
Kevin looked up.
“Why?”
“She was afraid.”
“Of Daniel?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Arthur hesitated.
“Because Daniel had copies too.”
Kevin sat back.
“What kind?”
“Personal records. Business records. Correspondence.”
“Blackmail?”
Arthur didn't answer directly.
“Daniel was very good at making people believe he knew more than he actually did.”
That sentence stayed with me.
“What did Daniel have on my mother?” I asked.
Arthur looked at me.
“I don't know.”
“But he threatened her.”
“Yes.”
“Why would he come to our wedding?”
Arthur frowned.
“When was the wedding?”
I gave him the date.
He immediately looked toward the folder.
“That was the day.”
“The day of what?”
“Daniel was supposed to meet your mother.”
Kevin's head lifted.
“For what?”
Arthur shook his head.
“I don't know.”
He stood and walked to a filing cabinet.
After several minutes, he returned with another document.
“This was never completed.”
It was a transfer agreement.
Daniel's name appeared at the top.
Patricia's name was below it.
Kevin read it.
“What was this?”
“Your father's remaining interest in the company.”
“My father was dead.”
“Yes.”
“Then how could this be transferred?”
“It couldn't.”
Kevin looked at the signature.
“It looks like Dad's.”
Arthur nodded.
“But it wasn't signed by him.”
I leaned closer.
“What?”
Arthur pointed.
“Your father signed documents with a small upward stroke at the end of his middle initial.”
Kevin examined the signature.
“This doesn't have it.”
“No.”
“So someone forged it.”
“Yes.”
“Daniel?”
Arthur shrugged.
“Possibly.”
“What happened to the transfer?”
“Nothing.”
“Why?”
“Because I refused to process it.”
Kevin stared at him.
“Did Daniel know?”
“I assume so.”
We sat quietly.
Then Arthur said something unexpected.
“Your wedding may have been the first time Daniel came back into your mother's life in years.”
“Why?”
“I don't know.”
Kevin closed the folder.
“Can we take copies?”
Arthur nodded.
As we left, he stopped Kevin.
“One more thing.”
“What?”
“Your father kept a storage box.”
“Where?”
Arthur gave him an address.
“Your mother knows about it.”
We drove there.
The storage facility was nearly empty.
Rows of metal doors stretched beneath fluorescent lights.
Kevin found the unit.
The lock was old.
He tried the key Arthur had given him.
It opened.
Inside were boxes.
Furniture.
Photographs.
A broken lamp.
A wooden chest.
Kevin opened the chest.
Inside was a stack of business files.
Underneath them was a small envelope.
His name was written on it.
“Kevin.”
He picked it up.
The handwriting was his father's.
He didn't open it immediately.
His fingers shook.
I stood beside him.
“You don't have to do this alone.”
“I know.”
He opened it.
The letter was short.
Kevin read silently.
Then he handed it to me.
It said that Thomas had discovered Daniel's theft and intended to expose him.
But there was something else.
Thomas wrote that Patricia knew about the investigation.
Not because she had participated.
Because Daniel had threatened her.
The final lines were addressed directly to Kevin.
His father had written that if anything happened to him, Kevin should not believe every explanation he heard about the money.
He should find the records.
And he should protect his mother.
Kevin sat down on the floor.
His shoulders dropped.
“My father knew.”
I crouched beside him.
“He was trying to protect you.”
“And Mom.”
“Yes.”
He looked at the letter again.
Then he noticed something.
“What?”
A second sheet had been tucked behind the first.
It contained a phone number.
Nothing else.
Kevin stared at it.
“Whose number?”
“I don't know.”
We called.
A woman answered.
“Hello?”
Kevin said his name.
There was silence.
Then the woman whispered, “You shouldn't have found that.”
Kevin's face changed.
“Who is this?”
She hung up.
We called again.
No answer.
Kevin looked at me.
“We need to go home.”
When we arrived, Patricia was sitting at our kitchen table.
She had let herself in.
She looked exhausted.
Kevin placed the letter in front of her.
She read it.
Tears appeared immediately.
“He wrote this?”
“Yes.”
She covered her mouth.
“I never knew.”
“You knew about Daniel.”
“Yes.”
“You knew Dad suspected him.”
“Yes.”
“Why did you let me believe Dad left you with nothing?”
Patricia looked down.
“Because Daniel told me if I admitted the truth, he'd ruin us.”
“Why?”
“Because I had signed something.”
Kevin froze.
“What?”
“A confession.”
“To what?”
“That I had taken the money.”
“You didn't.”
“No.”
“Then why sign it?”
“Because Daniel threatened you.”
Kevin stared at her.
“What did he threaten?”
Patricia looked at me.
“He said he would make sure Nora never married you.”
My blood ran cold.
“What?”
“He knew about your wedding.”
“How?”
“I don't know.”
Kevin stood.
“Mom, what did he mean?”
Patricia shook her head.
“He said he had proof that Nora was dangerous.”
I felt my stomach tighten.
“Proof of what?”
“I never saw it.”
“Then why believe him?”
“Because he showed me photographs.”
“Of me?”
“Yes.”
“What photographs?”
Patricia began crying.
“I don't know.”
Kevin knelt beside her.
“Mom.”
She looked at him.
“Daniel said if I didn't cooperate, he would make you believe Nora had relapsed before the wedding.”
I couldn't breathe.
That was why the note had been written.
That was why the wine mattered.
That was why someone had wanted Patricia to believe I was dangerous.
Daniel had been building a story.
And he needed Patricia to help him tell it.
Kevin looked at me.
“I believe you.”
I nodded.
But the question remained.
“What photographs did he have?”
Patricia wiped her face.
“I don't know.”
Then the phone rang.
None of us moved.
Kevin answered.
The voice on the other end was the same woman from the storage unit.
“Kevin Mercer?”
“Yes.”
“You need to stop looking.”
“Who are you?”
“My name is Elaine.”
“Elaine what?”
She hesitated.
“Elaine Price.”
Daniel's wife.
Or perhaps his widow.
I looked at Kevin.
Elaine continued.
“Daniel isn't the person you think he is.”
Kevin tightened his grip on the phone.
“Then tell me who he is.”
“I will.”
Her voice dropped.
“But not over the phone.”
Click here to continue reading: PART 10: Elaine Price Arrived With a Box of Photographs, and One Image Inside Forced Patricia to Admit She Had Hidden More Than Money
The Veil My Mother Gave Me Was Supposed to Carry One Beautiful Memory Into My Wedding, Until Patricia Turned It Into Something Else
Part 9 of 20
