“I didn’t say hurt.”
Catherine went silent.
Alison felt nauseated.
“You thought he might have killed her.”
“No.”
But the answer came too quickly.
Miriam interrupted.
“Before we continue with twenty-year-old suspicions, we need to deal with the immediate threat. Gregory has your identification, property records and possibly forged documents. We need law enforcement and the county recorder notified.”
Christopher nodded.
“I’ll take Abigail to my place.”
“No,” Abigail said.
Everyone turned.
She was staring at the laptop Christopher had placed on the workbench.
“It moved.”
Christopher frowned.
“What moved?”
“The little light.”
He looked down.
The flash drive was still connected.
On the computer screen, a folder had appeared that no one had opened.
A text file.
Miriam stepped forward.
“What is that?”
Christopher clicked it.
There was one sentence.
IF YOU FOUND THIS, HE KNOWS YOU HAVE IT.
Christopher immediately disconnected the computer from Wi-Fi.
But the screen changed.
A video window opened.
Gregory appeared.
Not live.
Pre-recorded.
He was sitting in Alison’s living room.
Behind him was the kitchen table and the purchase contract.
“Alison,” he said.
Her name coming from the speakers made everyone freeze.
“If you’re watching this, Abigail took the drive.”
Alison grabbed the edge of the workbench.
Gregory smiled faintly.
“She has a habit of touching things that don’t belong to her.”
Christopher’s face darkened.
The recording continued.
“You’ve probably discovered Margaret Vale by now.”
Catherine gasped.
Gregory leaned toward the camera.
“Your mother is going to tell you I’m trying to steal your apartment. Christopher will tell you I’m dangerous. Your lawyer will tell you not to contact me.”
His smile vanished.
“They’re all partly right.”
Alison felt her stomach twist.
“But none of them will tell you why I chose you.”
A pause.
“I did not meet you accidentally.”
Alison remembered the first time she saw Gregory.
A charity fundraiser.
He had bumped into her while carrying two glasses of wine.
He apologized.
They laughed.
He asked for her number.
For eight months, she had believed it was coincidence.
“I spent almost a year learning your routines before introducing myself.”
Abigail gripped Christopher’s sleeve.
Gregory continued.
“I knew where you worked. Where Abigail went to school. Where Catherine bought groceries. Where Christopher took Abigail on weekends.”
Christopher cursed under his breath.
“And before you decide that makes me a stalker…”
Gregory stared into the camera.
“…understand that I was looking for something.”
He reached offscreen.
When his hand returned, he was holding an old photograph.
A woman with red hair.
Aunt Maggie.
“Margaret Vale.”
Catherine made a choking sound.
Gregory turned the photo toward the camera.
“You’ve all spent two decades pretending she disappeared.”
Catherine whispered, “No.”
“But she didn’t.”
Alison felt as though the basement floor had shifted beneath her.
Gregory lowered the photograph.
“My mother was Margaret Vale.”
Silence.
Absolute silence.
Alison stared at the screen.
Gregory’s mother?
That would make him—
Her cousin.
She stumbled backward.
Christopher caught her arm.
“No,” Catherine whispered.
Gregory spoke almost conversationally.
“She was pregnant when she left Milwaukee.”
Catherine stared at the screen in horror.
“No, she wasn’t.”
“You didn’t know.”
Gregory smiled without humor.
“Samuel did.”
Alison’s head spun.
Her father.
Margaret.
Gregory.
The missing money.
The apartment.
Every piece seemed connected but none of them formed a picture she could understand.
Gregory continued.
“My mother spent the rest of her life telling me Samuel Carter destroyed her. She said he took her money, stole her share of the building, and threatened her until she ran.”
Catherine gripped the workbench.
“That isn’t what happened.”
The recording, of course, could not hear her.
“She died six years ago. Cancer.”
For the first time, Gregory’s face showed genuine emotion.
“Before she died, she gave me records. Letters. Bank transfers. Copies of property agreements.”
He lifted a thick envelope.
“She told me something else.”
The screen went dark for a second.
When Gregory reappeared, he was standing.
“She said the apartment was never Samuel Carter’s greatest investment.”
He leaned close to the camera.
“It was evidence.”
The recording ended.
No one spoke.
Then the basement doorbell rang upstairs.
All five of them jumped.
Christopher immediately stepped in front of Abigail.
“Were you expecting someone?”
Catherine shook her head.
The bell rang again.
Then someone knocked.
Three slow knocks.
Miriam took out her phone.
“I’m calling the police.”
Christopher moved toward the stairs.
“No. Stay here.”
He climbed halfway and stopped.
A voice came through the front door.
“Mrs. Carter?”
A man.
“This is Detective Harris, Milwaukee Police.”
Miriam frowned.
“Did anyone call them to this address?”
“I did,” Catherine whispered. “Earlier.”
Miriam nodded.
“Verify him before opening.”
Catherine called the department.
Several tense minutes later, the dispatcher confirmed Detective Eric Harris had been sent to take their report.
Only then did Christopher open the door.
Two officers entered.
Detective Harris was in his forties, broad-shouldered and tired-looking. His partner, Officer Nguyen, remained near the entrance.
Harris listened while Alison explained everything.
The forged power of attorney.
The purchase agreement.
The threats.
The flash drive.
Gregory’s recording.
When she mentioned Margaret Vale, however, Harris stopped writing.
“What was the name?”
“Margaret Vale.”
He looked at Catherine.
“Your sister?”
Catherine slowly nodded.
Detective Harris lowered his notebook.
“Mrs. Carter, I need you to come downtown.”
Alison frowned.
“Why?”
Harris ignored her.
“Mrs. Carter?”
Catherine’s face had gone pale.
“Am I under arrest?”
“No.”
“Then why?”
Detective Harris took a slow breath.
“Because the name Margaret Vale is connected to an active investigation.”
Alison stared.
“That’s impossible. She disappeared twenty-one years ago.”
“I know.”
“How can it be active?”
Harris glanced at his partner.
Then said, “Because last month a demolition crew working beneath an old warehouse near Menomonee Valley discovered human remains.”
Catherine made a broken sound.
Alison grabbed her mother’s arm.
Harris continued reluctantly.
“There was jewelry with the remains. Personal effects. We didn’t have a positive identification.”
He looked directly at Catherine.
“But one item was engraved with the initials M.V.”
Catherine collapsed into the chair.
Alison could barely breathe.
“Are you saying it was Margaret?”
“I’m saying we don’t know yet.”
Christopher spoke.
“And Gregory knew?”
“That’s something I’d like to determine.”
Alison looked toward the flash drive.
Suddenly everything felt less like a property fraud and more like a trap designed years in advance.
Detective Harris collected copies of the messages and instructed Alison to remain somewhere Gregory could not easily locate her.
“He has access to my apartment,” Alison said.
“We’ll send officers.”
“He has my passport.”
“We’ll recover whatever is there if he hasn’t removed it.”
Christopher crossed his arms.
“I’m taking Alison and Abigail somewhere else tonight.”
Harris nodded.
“That would be wise.”
But Abigail wasn’t listening.
She was staring at Catherine.
“Grandma?”
Catherine lifted her face.
“Yes, baby?”
“Did you know where Aunt Margaret was?”
Every adult in the basement turned toward her.
Catherine stared at Abigail.
“No.”
Abigail looked confused.
“But Gregory said you did.”
“When?”
“Last night.”
Alison’s heart began pounding again.
“What exactly did he say?”
Abigail squeezed her eyes shut, trying to remember.
“He was talking on the phone. He said, ‘Catherine knows where Margaret ended up. She always did.’”
Catherine stood.
“That’s a lie.”
“Then who was he talking to?” Christopher asked.
“I don’t know.”
Abigail’s eyes opened.
“The lady.”
“What lady?”
“The one in the video.”
Alison pictured the sharply dressed woman.
“Did you hear her name?”
Abigail nodded.
“Elaine.”
Detective Harris’s expression changed instantly.
“What?”
Abigail looked at him.
“He called her Elaine.”
Harris pulled out his phone.
“What did she look like?”
“Dark hair. Maybe forty. She had a gold necklace shaped like a leaf.”
Detective Harris moved away from them and dialed.
Miriam watched him.
“You know her.”
Harris didn’t answer.
Someone picked up.
“This is Harris. I need you to check a name connected to the Vale case.”
He paused.
“Elaine Mercer.”
Catherine suddenly gripped the edge of the table.
Alison noticed.
“Mom?”
Catherine whispered, “No.”
Alison stepped closer.
“You know that name too?”
Catherine stared at her.
“I haven’t heard it in twenty years.”
“Who is she?”
Before Catherine could answer, Harris ended his call.
He looked unsettled.
“Elaine Mercer was interviewed when Margaret disappeared.”
“Why?” Alison asked.
“She was Margaret’s accountant.”
Catherine shook her head.
“Not just her accountant.”
Everyone looked at her.
Catherine’s voice was barely audible.
“She was Samuel’s mistress.”
