Chapter 5 - Unraveling the Motive
Leaving their mother in the care of the nurses, Daniel and Tyler drove straight to Mrs. Helen’s small, modest house in Maple Ridge.
They needed proof before they did what they were about to do.
Daniel kicked the front door open, not bothering to search for the spare key.
The house was in disarray.
It wasn’t a robbery by a stranger. It was a targeted search.
Drawers were pulled out. The lockbox under Mrs. Helen’s bed had been pried open with a crowbar.
Tyler knelt by the bed, picking up the scattered papers.
“The deed to the house is gone, Dan,” Tyler said, his voice tight. “Her life insurance policy documents, her savings passbooks... all gone.”
Daniel walked into the kitchen.
On the counter sat a crumpled bank statement that Brian must have carelessly left behind.
It was a joint account statement for Mrs. Helen and Laura, an account set up years ago for emergencies.
The balance, which had held over forty thousand dollars of their father’s pension, had been drained to zero.
A wire transfer had been made four days ago.
Right to an account under Brian and Laura’s name.
“The new truck,” Daniel whispered to himself, staring at the empty zeroes on the page. “The new living room furniture. The happy pictures on the group chat.”
It was all blood money.
Brian and Laura hadn’t just stolen from an old woman.
They had tried to erase her to cover their tracks.
Brian pushed her into a pit to die of exposure, while Laura played the dutiful daughter on a group chat, knowing full well the money paying for her luxurious new life was stolen from a ghost.
Tyler walked into the kitchen, holding a heavy iron tire iron he had retrieved from his trunk.
“We’re going to Lexington,” Tyler said, his eyes hollow and cold.
Daniel looked at his younger brother.
He took the tire iron from Tyler’s hands and set it down on the counter.
“We are going to Lexington,” Daniel agreed, pulling out his cell phone. “But we’re not going to end up in a cell. They are.”
Daniel dialed the county sheriff.
He explained everything—the theft, the empty lockbox, the injuries, and the attempted murder of Mrs. Helen Carter.
May you like
The sheriff, a man who had bought fried chicken from Mrs. Helen for twenty years, went dead silent on the line.
“I’ll have state troopers at their house in Lexington in thirty minutes,” the sheriff said, his voice completely devoid of emotion. “Don’t do anything stupid, boys. Let us handle the trash.”
