Chapter 3 - The Memory Nobody Wanted Teresa to RecoverVincent Vance had been part of Charles’s life for as long as he could remember.
Not simply an uncle.
Something larger.
After Charles’s father, Anthony, died, Vincent became the man who sat beside Charles at funerals.
The man who handled disputes when Charles was too emotionally involved.
The man who reminded younger soldiers that loyalty to the Vance family was not optional.
He was sixty-two now.
Elegant.
Silver-haired.
Always dressed in dark suits.
He had the patient smile of a priest and the instincts of a shark.
Charles trusted him more than almost anyone alive.
Which was precisely why Teresa’s words were impossible to ignore.
She wasn’t escaping Charles.
She was escaping Vincent.
The next morning, Charles sat alone in his study replaying the sentence.
Once.
Twice.
Twenty times.
Alzheimer’s could distort memory.
He knew that.
Teresa mixed decades.
People.
Places.
She once believed the year was 1987 for three consecutive days.
She had asked a dead cousin to bring her coffee.
She had mistaken a television actor for their old parish priest.
But fear was different.
Charles had learned that from Emily.
Facts could blur.
Emotion often remained.
Whatever Teresa remembered, the fear had been real.
There was a knock.
“Come in.”
Emily entered carrying a tray.
Charles frowned.
“I didn’t order breakfast.”
“You didn’t eat.”
“How do you know?”
“You left dinner untouched.”
“That was last night.”
“And there’s coffee on your desk this morning.”
“Yes.”
“No food.”
Charles stared.
“You monitor me now?”
Emily set the tray down.
“I notice.”
He disliked how much that affected him.
She sat opposite him without asking.
“Have you spoken to Vincent?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because accusing the second most powerful man in my organization based on one confused sentence would be stupid.”
Emily crossed her arms.
“Good.”
Charles looked surprised.
“You thought I would disagree?”
“You disagree professionally.”
“I disagree when you’re wrong.”
“Which is frequently?”
Emily smiled.
“Improving.”
Despite everything, Charles almost laughed.
Then his expression turned serious.
“I checked Penny’s accident file.”
Emily leaned forward.
“And?”
“Nothing.”
“Nothing suspicious?”
“Nothing useful.”
The file said Penny Vance had lost control of her car on a wet section of highway shortly before midnight.
Vehicle left the road.
Impact.
Fire.
By the time emergency services arrived, she was dead.
Toxicology negative.
No other vehicle officially involved.
Weather poor.
Case closed.
Emily asked, “Was Vincent there that night?”
“No.”
“Are you sure?”
Charles’s silence answered.
He had never checked.
Why would he?
Vincent had arrived at the family home after the hospital called.
He had held Teresa while she screamed.
He had sat beside Charles at Penny’s funeral.
He had arranged everything.
Emily watched him.
“What do you remember?”
Charles stared toward the windows.
“I remember being angry.”
“With Penny?”
“Yes.”
“Anything else?”
“She received a phone call during dinner.”
“From?”
“I don’t know.”
“She left because of it?”
“She claimed she had plans.”
“Did she seem scared?”
Charles thought back.
Penny in a red dress.
Standing near the staircase.
Phone pressed to her ear.
Her expression tense.
He had assumed she was angry because he had been questioning her.
Now he remembered something else.
Penny had looked toward the hallway before hanging up.
Toward Vincent’s office.
Charles’s heartbeat changed.
“She asked me something.”
Emily leaned closer.
“What?”
Charles closed his eyes.
“She asked whether I trusted Vincent.”
Emily went still.
“What did you say?”
“I told her more than I trusted most people.”
His eyes opened.
“She laughed.”
“Why?”
“I thought she was mocking me.”
Emily said nothing.
Charles remembered Penny grabbing her coat.
He had followed.
Where are you going?
None of your business.
You’re not leaving alone.
Watch me.
Penny—
You don’t own me, Charles.
Then the sentence he had remembered every night for nineteen years.
I hate what you’re becoming.
The front door slammed.
Charles had always believed the argument was about control.
What if it had been about something else?
“What if she knew something?” Emily asked.
Charles looked at her.
“What if she was trying to tell you?”
He stood.
“I need to speak with someone.”
“Who?”
“A retired detective.”
Emily rose.
“Charles.”
He stopped.
“If Vincent is involved, don’t let him know you’re looking.”
He almost told her she did not understand the men involved.
Then he remembered Teresa’s fear.
“I won’t.”
The retired detective’s name was Paul Armitage.
Seventy-one.
Bad knees.
Worse temper.
He had investigated Penny’s crash before retiring from the department twelve years earlier.
Charles arranged the meeting at a diner nobody connected to the Vance family.
Armitage arrived carrying a cane.
When he saw Charles, his expression tightened.
“I figured eventually one of you would come asking.”
Charles’s gaze sharpened.
“One of us?”
Armitage sat.
“Your family.”
“You expected questions?”
“For nineteen years.”
Charles leaned forward.
“Why?”
The old detective looked toward the window.
“Because that accident never sat right.”
Charles became very still.
“Explain.”
“The road was wet, yes. But your sister’s car didn’t simply drift.”
Armitage stirred coffee.
“There were scrape marks along the driver’s side.”
“Another vehicle?”
“Probably.”
“Why wasn’t it in the final report?”
Armitage looked at him.
“You really don’t know?”
Charles’s voice dropped.
“No.”
The detective sighed.
“A witness reported seeing a dark sedan behind Penny’s car.”
“Who?”
“Truck driver.”
“Name.”
“Dead.”
Charles’s jaw tightened.
“Convenient.”
“Heart attack. Ten years ago.”
Armitage continued.
“He gave a statement. Said the sedan was driving aggressively. Possibly forcing her toward the shoulder.”
Charles felt cold.
“What happened to the statement?”
“Disappeared.”
“Who removed it?”
“Couldn’t prove anything.”
“Guess.”
Armitage studied him.
“You don’t want guesses.”
“Today I do.”
The detective lowered his voice.
“One of my supervisors received a call from someone connected to your family.”
“Who?”
“I never got a name.”
Charles’s face hardened.
“But afterward, everyone suddenly decided Penny Vance had been speeding.”
Charles sat back.
“Was she?”
“Maybe.”
“Was she drunk?”
“No.”
“Drugs?”
“No.”
“Then why?”
Armitage shrugged.
“Power.”
Charles understood that answer too well.
“Anything else?”
The detective hesitated.
“There was something found near the crash.”
Charles leaned forward.
“What?”
“A piece of metal.”
“What kind?”
“Part of a hood ornament.”
“From what vehicle?”
“Old Lincoln Town Car.”
Charles’s stomach tightened.
Vincent had driven a black Lincoln in those years.
So had dozens of men.
Still.
“Where is it?”
“Evidence locker probably cleared it years ago.”
Charles stood.
Armitage caught his sleeve.
“One more thing.”
Charles looked down.
“A woman came to the station two days after the funeral.”
“Who?”
“She claimed she was Penny’s friend.”
“Name?”
“She wouldn’t give it.”
“What did she say?”
Armitage’s eyes held his.
“She said Penny had been collecting records.”
“What records?”
“Financial documents.”
Charles’s pulse slowed.
“What kind?”
“She didn’t know.”
“Did the woman describe them?”
“She said Penny had proof someone close to your family was stealing.”
Charles sat again.
Armitage continued.
“I asked where the proof was.”
“And?”
“She said Penny hid it because she was afraid.”
“Where?”
“She didn’t know.”
Charles clenched his jaw.
“Why didn’t you tell us?”
Armitage laughed without humor.
“Your family had a reputation.”
“We still do.”
“I noticed.”
“What happened to the woman?”
“She left.”
“Can you describe her?”
“Blonde. Mid-twenties. Nervous.”
“Anything else?”
“She wore a necklace shaped like a bird.”
Charles frowned.
“A bird?”
“Small blue stone.”
Charles left the diner feeling as though the city had tilted.
When he returned home, Emily was in Teresa’s room.
Teresa sat at a dressing table while Emily brushed her hair.
Charles leaned against the doorway.
For once, he did not interrupt.
Teresa looked into the mirror.
“There’s my handsome boy.”
Charles’s chest tightened.
She knew him.
“Hello, Mom.”
“You look tired.”
Emily smirked.
“I told him.”
Teresa turned to Emily.
“Men never listen.”
“Accurate.”
Charles sighed.
“Can I speak with you?”
Emily looked at Teresa.
“Will you be all right for a minute?”
Teresa waved dismissively.
“I’m not made of glass.”
Charles flinched internally.
He had treated her like glass.
Emily followed him into the hallway.
“What happened?”
Charles told her everything.
The scrape marks.
The witness.
The missing statement.
The hood ornament.
The mysterious woman.
When he mentioned the necklace, Emily’s expression changed.
Charles noticed immediately.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“That wasn’t nothing.”
Emily looked toward Teresa’s room.
“My grandmother had a necklace like that.”
Charles stared.
“Blue bird?”
“Yes.”
“How common?”
“I don’t know.”
“Where is it?”
Emily folded her arms.
“Why?”
“Because Penny’s friend wore one.”
“So did my grandmother.”
“Emily.”
She exhaled.
“It’s at my apartment.”
Charles stepped closer.
“Your grandmother’s name?”
“Ruth Parker.”
He repeated it mentally.
No recognition.
“How old was she nineteen years ago?”
“Fifty-eight.”
Charles frowned.
“The woman at the station was in her twenties.”
“Then it wasn’t Ruth.”
“No.”
Emily relaxed slightly.
Then Teresa called from inside.
“Emily?”
She returned.
Charles remained in the hallway.
Something bothered him.
Not Emily.
The necklace.
He followed.
Teresa had opened a drawer.
She was holding an old photograph.
When Charles saw it, his body went rigid.
Penny stood in the center.
Twenty-two.
Alive.
Smiling.
Beside her stood Teresa.
And on Penny’s other side was a blonde woman Charles did not recognize.
Around the woman’s neck hung a small blue bird.
Emily stared.
Charles pointed.
“Do you know her?”
Emily stepped closer.
The blood drained from her face.
“Yes.”
Charles felt the floor shift beneath him.
“Who?”
Emily looked at him.
“My mother.”
Silence filled the room.
Charles took the photograph.
“You said your grandmother had the necklace.”
“She gave it to my mother.”
Charles’s eyes narrowed.
“What was your mother’s name?”
“Laura Parker.”
Teresa suddenly laughed.
“No.”
Charles and Emily turned.
Teresa pointed at the woman in the photograph.
“That was Laura Bell.”
Emily stared.
“My mother’s maiden name.”
Teresa smiled.
“She and Penny were always getting into trouble.”
Charles looked at Emily again.
“Your mother knew my sister.”
Emily seemed unable to breathe.
“I didn’t know.”
Teresa touched the photograph.
“Laura tried to save her.”
Charles froze.
“What?”
Teresa’s smile disappeared.
“Vincent found out.”
Her fingers trembled.
Emily crouched beside her.
“Found out what?”
Teresa stared at Penny’s face.
“She had the ledger.”
Charles’s entire body went cold.
“What ledger?”
Teresa whispered.
“The one that could destroy him.”
Then she looked directly at Charles.
And for a few seconds, the fog in her eyes vanished.
“Your sister didn’t die because she was careless.”
May you like
Her voice broke.
“She died because she found out what Vincent was doing.”
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