Chapter 4 - THE LAKE HOUSE
Daniel refused to answer in front of Victoria.
That made me furious.
We drove to his downtown office.
I stood in front of his desk.
“Tell me.”
He removed his wet jacket.
“Your father investigated mine.”
“For what?”
“Bribery.”
I waited.
“And?”
“My father went to prison.”
I stared.
“Because of my dad?”
“Because he was guilty.”
That answer knocked the anger sideways.
Daniel looked out over Chicago.
“I hated your father for years.”
“Then why buy our debt?”
“Because hate is expensive.”
“That sounds rehearsed.”
“It is.”
He almost smiled.
Then stopped.
“Your father sent me evidence before he died.”
“What evidence?”
“That he had discovered something larger.”
Ambrose.
Victoria.
Two judges.
A county official.
Private lenders.
A network buying distressed family businesses, stripping assets, then forcing owners into desperate side deals.
My father had been gathering proof.
Then he got sick.
Too fast.
I felt the room tilt.
“You think they killed him?”
“I think we don’t know.”
That was worse.
We drove north to the lake house before noon.
Dad had owned it through a separate trust.
Victoria claimed it had been sold.
It had not.
The place smelled like dust and cold wood.
Blue floor.
We searched every room.
Nothing.
Then I remembered Dad hated blue.
Except one thing.
The boathouse.
Its floor was painted navy.
Daniel pried up the third board.
Under it sat a waterproof steel box.
My brass key fit.
Inside were three ledgers.
A flash drive.
A handwritten letter.
And a photograph.
Dad.
Victoria.
Lawrence Ambrose.
Daniel’s father.
All four standing together fifteen years earlier.
I looked at Daniel.
“You said your father was guilty.”
“He was.”
“Then why was he working with mine?”
Daniel picked up the photograph.
His face lost color.
“I don’t know.”
I opened Dad’s letter.
Emily,
If you are reading this, Victoria has already lied to you about me.
I read faster.
Then stopped.
One sentence seemed to rise off the page.
Victoria was never my wife.
I looked at Daniel.
“What?”
The front window shattered.
Daniel threw me to the floor.
May you like
A bullet buried itself in the wall above us.
