Chapter 5 - THE LOCKED BOX
I returned to the house just after sunrise.
Brandon opened the door.
He looked exhausted.
His shirt was wrinkled.
His eyes were red.
He hadn't slept.
Neither had I.
We didn't hug.
We simply looked at each other.
Then he stepped aside.
“The box is upstairs.”
I followed him into Gertrude's room.
The bed was unmade.
Drawers were open.
Her closet looked half-empty.
“She packed.”
“Most of it.”
“Did she leave a note?”
“No.”
We stopped beside the dresser.
A small black metal box sat on the floor.
Brandon crouched.
“There are three locks.”
“Do you have a key?”
“No.”
I looked at the box.
Then remembered something.
“The brass keys.”
“What?”
“The old key ring.”
He stared at me.
“Mom's?”
“Yes.”
We searched the hallway.
Nothing.
Then Brandon suddenly stopped.
“She kept a jewelry box in the guest room.”
We found it beneath a stack of towels.
Inside were dozens of old keys.
One fit the box.
The lid opened with a metallic click.
Inside were folders.
Photographs.
Receipts.
And a small notebook.
Brandon picked up the notebook.
I took the photographs.
The first showed my grandmother.
Standing beside Gertrude.
I stared at the image.
“When was this taken?”
Brandon looked at the back.
“Eight years ago.”
That was two years before I married him.
I turned the photograph over.
There was handwriting.
Daniel knows.
I felt cold.
“Who's Daniel?”
“My father.”
I looked at him.
“What did he know?”
Brandon shook his head.
“I don't know.”
We opened the first folder.
It contained copies of correspondence between my grandmother and Daniel.
Then I saw the date.
My grandmother had contacted Daniel shortly before her death.
The letter said:
I am concerned about Gertrude's interest in Natalie's inheritance.
Brandon sat down.
“She knew.”
“Yes.”
Another letter followed.
Your wife believes Natalie should use the inheritance to purchase property in Brandon's name. I cannot permit that.
Brandon covered his mouth.
I kept reading.
Then came the final letter.
Daniel had written back.
I will speak to Gertrude.
She will not interfere.
But there was a handwritten note underneath.
She already has.
Brandon looked at me.
“My father knew.”
“Yes.”
“And he never told me.”
“Maybe he was trying to protect you.”
Brandon shook his head.
“He should have told me.”
The next folder contained bank records.
Gertrude had attempted to move money.
Not from my account.
From a joint account Brandon and I had opened after our wedding.
I stared at the numbers.
“She drained this?”
“Almost.”
I looked at Brandon.
“Why didn't you notice?”
“I thought the money was being used for household expenses.”
“It wasn't.”
He looked devastated.
Then he found another document.
A handwritten budget.
It listed expenses.
Home repairs.
Medical bills.
Credit cards.
And beside each item was a note.
Natalie's inheritance can cover this.
Brandon stared at it.
“She planned everything.”
I shook my head.
“No.”
“What?”
“She planned it before she moved in.”
He looked at me.
I pointed to a date.
The budget was created nine months before the pipe burst at her condo.
Before she supposedly needed a temporary place to stay.
Brandon's face changed.
“She never planned to leave.”
“No.”
The truth settled between us.
The broken pipe had not been the beginning.
It had been the opportunity.
Gertrude had moved into my house because she wanted access.
Access to my money.
Access to my records.
Access to my marriage.
And possibly something even more.
I opened the notebook.
The first pages contained numbers.
The middle pages contained names.
At the bottom of one page was a phrase.
MERCER PROPERTY TRANSFER.
I looked at Brandon.
“What does that mean?”
“I don't know.”
Then I saw another name.
A lawyer.
Jonathan Reeves.
Brandon recognized it immediately.
“That's Mom's attorney.”
“Do you know him?”
“Yes.”
“Then we need to talk to him.”
Brandon nodded.
We left the house together.
For the first time in months, we were moving in the same direction.
But neither of us realized that someone had been watching the house.
As we pulled out of the driveway, a dark SUV was parked across the street.
The driver watched us leave.
Then picked up a phone.
“She found the box.”
A pause.
“No.”
The voice on the other end was female.
Cold.
Calm.
And familiar.
“Don't worry.”
The driver asked,
“What should we do?”
May you like
The woman answered,
“Give Natalie one more reason to leave Brandon.”
