Chapter 7 - THE MAN AT MY FATHER’S FUNERAL

Martin Kessler answered on the second ring.

“Edward. I heard about Florence. I’m so sorry.”

His voice was warm.

Familiar.

I suddenly hated every memory attached to it.

“I need to talk to you.”

“Of course.”

“In person.”

A pause.

“About Victoria?”

I looked at the blue ledger on the passenger seat.

“Yes.”

I did not mention Elise.

I did not mention Box 214.

I did not mention the messages.

Martin suggested his office.

I agreed.

Then I called Detective Lena Ruiz, the officer handling Victoria’s case, and told her just enough to make her swear at me for touching old evidence without gloves.

“That ledger may matter,” she said. “Do not confront Kessler alone.”

“I already made the appointment.”

“Edward.”

“I’m not going to threaten him.”

“That is not the only way people get hurt.”

She was right.

I went anyway.

That was my mistake.

Martin’s office looked exactly as it had when I was twelve. Dark wood. Heavy books. A silver photograph of him beside my father at a charity golf tournament.

He hugged me.

I let him.

I wanted to know if he would shake.

He didn’t.

We sat.

I told him Victoria had mentioned his name.

Martin sighed like a disappointed teacher.

“She has been unstable for years.”

“You knew her?”

“I knew her mother.”

“How well?”

“Well enough to know tragedy follows that family.”

The sentence was too polished.

I asked about Elise’s accusation that charity money had been moved.

He leaned back.

“Your father investigated. Nothing came of it.”

“That’s not what his records say.”

For the first time, Martin’s expression changed.

Barely.

But I saw it.

“What records?”

I should have lied.

Instead, anger made me stupid.

“The ones he kept at the bank.”

Martin’s eyes dropped to my hand.

To my father’s ring.

Then he smiled.

A tiny, tired smile.

“James always did love his little precautions.”

I stood.

Too late.

My phone buzzed in my pocket.

A security alert from my mother’s house.

FRONT DOOR OPEN.

Then another.

STUDY WINDOW SENSOR DISCONNECTED.

---

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