Chapter 4 - Sixteen Years of Dirt
The next morning, Nora drove me to the county records office. She had obtained copies of documents through lawful channels; she wasn't promising me a miracle, just facts.
Our mother's orchard hadn't been sold for taxes. A family trust still owned it. Celia was the acting trustee. Lease income from a commercial storage yard had been paid into an account controlled by a company called Northline Holdings. The company was registered in another state, but its mailing address led straight back to Dean Mercer.
"How much?" I asked.
Nora slid a page across the table. "Over twelve years, at least two million dollars in reported rent. The missing years will take longer."
"Celia told us Mom left us nothing."
Nora pointed to a document. "Lucía's twenty-eighth birthday is next month. Under this trust, that triggers an independent accounting."
Then she showed me a proposed thirty-one-million-dollar purchase agreement. A hospital development group wanted the orchard and adjacent land. Someone had copied Lucía's signature onto a consent form.
"She would've caught it," I said.
"Maybe she already did."
We went to Celia's house with a warrant served by a separate investigative team. Celia was gone. Her kitchen chair lay overturned. On the counter was a broken mug Jamie had painted in middle school: BEST MOM, WORST PANCAKES.
In the hallway, a family photograph had been slashed across my father's face.
May you like
Nora's phone buzzed. The team had found a hidden safe behind Celia's bedroom wall. Inside was a stack of old cash, a forged death certificate for Lucía, and a photograph taken yesterday.
It showed Jamie beside the same green wall in the kidnapping message. On the back, someone had written an address: MILL NINE. COME ALONE.
