Chapter 5: The Granddaughter Who Remembered
Emily sat at Mabel's kitchen table, holding a cup of hot chocolate with both hands.
She hadn't touched her sandwich.
Mabel sat opposite her, unable to stop looking at the girl's face.
Emily had the same little dimple in her left cheek that Arthur used to have.
She also had his habit of rubbing her thumb against the edge of a cup whenever she was nervous.
Mabel remembered teaching her to bake cookies.
She remembered Emily's first steps across the living room carpet.
She remembered the little girl falling asleep on her lap during thunderstorms.
And now she was learning that Emily had spent two years believing her grandmother was dead.
"Sweetheart," Mabel whispered, "why didn't you call me?""
Emily lowered her eyes.
"Mom said your phone number wasn't working.""
"I never changed my number.""
"She said you moved.""
"I've lived here for forty-three years.""
Emily's lower lip trembled.
"She showed us a picture of a cemetery.""
Mabel put down her cup.
"What?""
"She said Grandpa was buried there, and you were buried beside him.""
Mabel stared at the child.
"Your grandfather is buried at Oak Hill Cemetery. I'm not.""
"I know that now.""
Emily reached into her backpack and pulled out a small notebook.
Its cover was pink, with a unicorn sticker peeling away from one corner.
"I wrote letters to you.""
Mabel's eyes filled.
"Letters?""
Emily opened the notebook.
The first page contained a child's handwriting.
Dear Grandma,
I got an A on my science project. I wish you could see it.
Another page read:
Dear Grandma,
Mom says you can't hear me anymore. But I think you can. I miss your cookies.
Mabel covered her mouth.
Emily turned another page.
Dear Grandma,
I'm twelve today. I wish you were here.
Mabel reached across the table.
Emily placed the notebook in her hands.
"I kept writing because I didn't want to forget you.""
Mabel pulled her granddaughter into her arms.
"Oh, sweetheart. You could never forget me.""
Across the kitchen, Dean looked away.
He'd seen men cry at funerals, watched families fall apart in hospital corridors, and attended more than his share of tragic memorials.
But there was something particularly cruel about a child being told that someone who loved her was dead while that person was still alive.
Frank approached Dean quietly.
"Brother, there's something you should know.""
Dean stepped toward the hallway.
"What?""
"I called the pharmacy. They confirmed Laura changed Mabel's prescription contact information six months ago.""
"Meaning?""
"Meaning the pharmacy was instructed to send every refill notification to Laura. Mabel wasn't getting the messages.""
Dean frowned.
"Can they prove who requested it?""
"Yes. The pharmacist remembers the conversation.""
Dean glanced toward Mabel.
"Get the details. We may need them.""
Meanwhile, Emily had taken something else from her backpack.
A photograph.
It showed her standing beside a swimming pool with a woman who looked remarkably like Mabel.
The photograph was dated two summers earlier.
"Grandma, do you remember this?""
Mabel studied it.
"Of course. That's the day you learned to swim.""
Emily nodded.
"I wanted to give you this.""
Mabel smiled sadly.
"Thank you.""
Then Emily whispered something.
"Mom said you didn't want to see me.""
Mabel's smile disappeared.
"She said that?""
"She told me you were angry because I wasn't visiting enough.""
Mabel shook her head.
"I waited for you every Sunday.""
Emily looked up.
"Every Sunday?""
"Your grandfather and I used to make pancakes. I kept thinking you'd come through that door.""
Emily began crying again.
Dean returned to the kitchen.
"Can I ask you something, Emily?""
The girl nodded.
"Did your mother ever talk about your grandfather's money?""
Emily hesitated.
"Sometimes.""
"What did she say?""
"She said Grandpa had left her a lot of bills.""
Dean exchanged a look with Frank.
"Anything else?""
Emily looked toward the front window.
"She said there was an account with my name on it.""
Mabel sat up.
"What account, sweetheart?""
Emily shrugged.
"I don't know. Last year, Mom took me to a bank. She told me to sign something.""
Dean leaned forward.
"Do you remember what you signed?""
Emily shook her head.
"Some papers. She said it was for school.""
Mabel's face tightened.
"Did you understand them?""
"No.""
"Did anyone explain them to you?""
Emily shook her head again.
Dean pulled out a chair.
"Emily, listen carefully. You haven't done anything wrong. You're not in trouble.""
The girl nodded.
"Can you remember which bank?""
"First County Bank.""
Frank immediately took out his phone.
"That's the bank down on Main Street.""
Dean nodded.
"We'll need Martin Reeves to look into that.""
At that moment, Mabel's phone rang.
She stared at the screen.
The caller's name was displayed in large letters.
*LAURA.*
Mabel didn't answer.
The phone stopped.
A message appeared.
Then another.
Then another.
Mabel picked it up.
Her face grew pale.
Dean held out his hand.
"May I?""
She passed him the phone.
The first message read:
Mom, I know you're upset. But you need to stop talking to those men.
The second:
They don't understand your condition.
The third was different.
If you keep this up, I will have no choice but to put you in a care facility.
Dean read it twice.
"Does she have authority to do that?""
Mabel shook her head.
"She says she does.""
Frank leaned over.
"Does she actually have power of attorney?""
"She showed me papers once.""
Dean handed the phone back.
"We'll let the attorney answer that.""
Another message appeared.
This time, it was a photograph.
Mabel opened it.
It showed a document with her signature at the bottom.
Above it was a statement declaring that she had voluntarily transferred ownership of her house to Laura.
Mabel stared at the screen.
"That's my signature.""
Dean studied the document.
"When did you sign this?""
"I didn't.""
"Are you sure?""
Mabel shook her head.
"I've never agreed to sell my house.""
Frank leaned closer.
The document carried a date from fourteen months earlier.
Dean pointed to the notary section.
"Who's this?""
Mabel read the name.
"Patricia Collins.""
The same woman who had taken her documents.
Dean took a photograph of the screen.
Then he noticed something unusual.
The document stated that Mabel had appeared before the notary in person.
But the date was a Tuesday.
Mabel picked up her calendar.
Her hands shook as she turned to the corresponding week.
She pointed at a handwritten appointment.
"That's the day I was in the hospital.""
Dean looked up.
"Hospital?""
"I fell in the bathroom. Broke my wrist.""
Frank stared at the document again.
"So she signed a house transfer while you were hospitalized?""
Mabel nodded slowly.
"Laura was with me that day.""
Dean felt anger rise in his chest.
He kept his voice calm.
"Do you have the hospital discharge papers?""
Mabel nodded toward a drawer.
Frank opened it and found a folder.
Inside was the discharge summary.
The date matched.
Dean photographed the documents and sent them to Martin Reeves.
Then he called the attorney's office again.
This time, someone answered.
A receptionist listened to his explanation.
After a brief pause, she said something that made Dean straighten.
"Mr. Reeves has been trying to locate Mrs. Whitmore for nearly two years.""
Dean looked at Mabel.
"What?""
The receptionist continued.
"Her husband left instructions that she was to receive a personal visit before any changes were made to the trust. Mr. Reeves sent several letters, but they were returned.""
Dean glanced toward the hallway.
"Returned by whom?""
The receptionist checked her records.
"All the forwarding requests came from someone named Laura Whitmore.""
Mabel slowly closed her eyes.
Then the receptionist added:
"There's something else. Mr. Reeves discovered an attempted withdrawal from Mrs.
Whitmore's protected account last month. He believes someone may have forged her authorization.""
Dean gripped the phone.
"How much?""
The receptionist paused.
"One hundred and twenty thousand dollars.""
Mabel nearly dropped her cup.
Dean looked at her.
"Did you withdraw any money last month?""
She shook her head.
"Not one dollar.""
The receptionist lowered her voice.
"Mr. Reeves wants to meet Mrs. Whitmore immediately. But he also asked me to tell you something.""
"What?""
"Before Arthur died, he gave the attorney an audio recording.""
Dean went silent.
"What kind of recording?""
The receptionist answered carefully.
"One that apparently contains a conversation between Arthur and Laura.""
Mabel reached for the table.
Her husband had left more than a letter.
May you like
He had left evidence.
And whatever was on that recording was powerful enough that someone had spent two years making sure she never heard it.
