Chapter 4 - THE WATCH BOX
Police allowed Tom to enter Evelyn’s bedroom shortly after noon.
Detective Monroe accompanied him.
The bedroom looked untouched.
That was the first thing that frightened him.
Evelyn had supposedly packed for months in Europe.
Yet her favorite reading glasses remained beside the bed.
Her passport was inside the desk.
Her winter coat still hung in the closet.
Her medication organizer contained pills dated through the week she vanished.
Tom stared at all the obvious evidence he had ignored.
Helen’s story had not been believable.
It had only been convenient.
Monroe photographed the room.
“Where’s the watch box?”
Tom pointed toward the dresser.
A rectangular walnut case sat beneath a framed photograph of Lily and Evelyn planting tomatoes.
Tom opened it.
His father’s watches were still inside.
He removed the velvet tray.
Nothing.
He checked beneath it.
Nothing.
Monroe searched the sides.
“No flash drive.”
Tom’s heart sank.
“She found it.”
“Maybe.”
Monroe lifted the box carefully.
Then she noticed scratches beneath the dresser.
Someone had moved it recently.
Behind the dresser, taped against the wall, was a small envelope.
Inside the envelope was a silver key and a handwritten note.
Tom recognized his mother’s handwriting immediately.
TOM.
IF YOU ARE READING THIS, HELEN KNOWS.
DO NOT TRUST MARTIN.
DO NOT TRUST THE DOCUMENTS.
THE ORIGINALS ARE WHERE YOUR FATHER TAUGHT LILY TO COUNT STARS.
Tom read the final line twice.
Monroe looked at him.
“Does that mean anything?”
“Yes.”
His father had died when Lily was four.
During summer visits, he used to take Lily onto the roof of the old carriage house with a telescope.
He taught her constellations there.
They called it the star room.
Tom and Monroe crossed the estate.
The carriage house had been locked for years.
The silver key opened it.
Dust covered the stairs.
At the top stood an old telescope.
Tom touched the wooden case beneath it.
The case contained astronomy books, photographs, and a sealed metal document box.
Inside were copies of trust agreements.
Bank statements.
Property records.
And a handwritten ledger.
Monroe put on gloves.
Tom turned pages without touching them.
His mother had documented dozens of transfers.
$850,000.
$1.2 million.
$3.4 million.
$6.8 million.
The names of the recipient companies looked unfamiliar.
Then Tom saw one he recognized.
HRC DEVELOPMENT GROUP.
Helen Rebecca Carter.
Her initials.
A second company was registered to Martin Shaw.
A third belonged to a man named Victor Dane.
Tom knew that name too.
Victor Dane was a developer who had tried for years to buy Carter land outside Asheville.
Evelyn always refused.
Monroe pointed toward a file.
“This one says pending sale.”
Tom read it.
Three thousand acres.
Purchase price: $74 million.
Actual appraised value: approximately $126 million.
“That’s forty or fifty million below market.”
Monroe nodded.
“Someone was getting a very favorable deal.”
Tom found an attached memorandum.
If Evelyn were deemed medically incompetent, voting authority over her controlling shares would temporarily pass to Helen.
If Evelyn died while incompetent, the shares would be distributed according to an amended trust.
Tom’s name had been removed.
Lily’s inheritance had been reduced to a small education fund.
Helen would receive control of almost everything.
Tom sat down slowly.
Monroe continued reading.
Then she stopped.
“What?”
She turned the page toward him.
A medical evaluation declared Evelyn legally incompetent.
May you like
It had been signed five weeks ago.
While Evelyn was chained beneath the greenhouse.
