Chapter 7: The Brother Who Knew Too Much
“Call him back.””
Clint's voice cut through the silence.
Martha was still holding her phone against her ear, staring at the disconnected screen.
“Michael,” she whispered.
“My baby boy.””
Clint took the phone gently.
“Let's try again.””
He pressed the call button.
It rang once.
Twice.
Then went straight to voicemail.
Clint lowered the phone.
“Something's wrong.””
Karen stood near the chapel door, clutching her handbag.
“Did he say someone made sure David never left the hospital alive?””
Martha nodded.
Her face had gone pale.
“Michael wouldn't say something like that unless he believed it.””
Clint paced across the chapel.
“Believing something and proving it are two different things.””
“He's my son,” Martha said.
“I know.””
“He watched David grow up. He was at our house every Christmas. He carried David's coffin.””
Clint stopped.
“Then why would his name appear in those financial records?””
Martha looked down.
“I don't know.””
She remembered Michael as a little boy, following David around the backyard. David had taught him to ride a bicycle, helped him with his homework, and once spent an entire night fixing his first motorcycle.
When David got married, Michael had stood beside him as best man.
They had been inseparable.
Until the accident.
Afterward, Michael disappeared from the family.
He stopped attending Sunday dinners. He stopped answering Martha's calls. Eventually, he moved to another neighborhood and rarely visited.
Martha had assumed grief had driven him away.
Now she wondered whether there had been something else.
Clint picked up the laptop.
“We need to find out what's in that second box.””
Karen nodded.
“I can help you obtain the hospital documents.””
Martha stood.
“And I need to see Michael.””
Clint looked at her.
“Not alone.””
“He's my son.””
“That's exactly why you shouldn't go alone.””
They left the chapel together.
Outside, a black sedan was parked near the hospital entrance.
Its engine was running.
Clint noticed it immediately.
He watched the driver's window.
The glass was tinted.
“Keep walking,” he said quietly.
Martha looked at him.
“What is it?””
“Nothing. Just stay close.””
They reached Clint's motorcycle.
He helped Martha into the passenger car he had borrowed from Benny.
As he started the engine, the black sedan pulled out.
It followed them.
Clint checked the rearview mirror.
“Looks like somebody doesn't want us talking to Michael.””
Martha turned around.
“Can you lose them?””
Clint smiled without humor.
“Sweetheart, I spent thirty years riding with men who thought they were better at following people than they actually were.””
He turned sharply into a narrow side street.
The sedan continued straight.
Clint took another route through a shopping district before stopping outside a small hardware store.
He called Benny.
“Can you do me a favor?””
“Depends. Are you asking me to dig another grave?””
“Not today.””
“Disappointing.””
“I need you to check on Michael Lane. Make sure he's home and safe.””
Benny's voice became serious.
“What's going on?””
“David's brother may know why the hospital records were changed.””
There was a pause.
“I'm on it.””
Clint ended the call.
Martha stared through the windshield.
“Do you think Michael hurt his brother?””
Clint considered the question.
“I think your son left behind information that connects him to something. That's all we know.””
They drove to Michael's house.
It was a modest brick property with a white fence and a motorcycle parked beneath a covered carport.
Martha recognized the motorcycle.
She had given Michael money toward it for his fortieth birthday.
The front door was slightly open.
Clint reached for the handle.
“Stay behind me.””
He knocked.
“Michael?””
No answer.
He knocked again.
Then a voice came from inside.
“Mom?””
Martha hurried forward.
Michael appeared in the doorway.
He was fifty-two, with thinning brown hair and deep lines around his eyes. He wore an old gray sweatshirt and looked as though he hadn't slept.
“Mom.””
Martha grabbed him.
For a moment, he stood stiffly.
Then his arms wrapped around her.
“Oh, Michael,” she whispered.
“Why haven't you come home?””
He closed his eyes.
“I'm sorry.””
She pulled away and examined his face.
“Tell me what you meant on the phone.””
Michael looked at Clint.
“Who's he?””
“Clint Walker. He knew David.””
Michael's expression changed.
“You were there?””
“I was one of the men David saved.””
Michael stepped aside.
“Come in.””
The living room was cluttered with unopened mail, old newspapers, and cardboard boxes.
On the coffee table sat a photograph of David and Michael as teenagers.
They were standing beside a motorcycle, both grinning at the camera.
Martha picked it up.
“You boys were so happy.””
Michael looked away.
“Things changed.””
Clint sat opposite him.
“Let's talk about the account.””
Michael rubbed his face.
“Did you find the second box?””
“Not yet,” Clint replied.
Michael nodded.
“Then you don't know everything.””
Martha sat beside him.
“Please, sweetheart. Tell me what happened.””
Michael stared at his hands.
“David called me three days before the accident. He said he had discovered Laura was stealing money from Rachel's trust.””
“Why didn't he tell me?””
“He didn't want you involved.””
“What did he want from you?””
Michael looked at Clint.
“He wanted me to check something.””
“What?””
“A bank account.””
Michael walked to a cabinet and pulled out a folder.
Inside were printed statements, company registration papers, and photocopies of signatures.
He placed them on the table.
“Laura had been transferring money through a company called Lane Family Holdings. But she wasn't doing it alone.””
Clint studied the documents.
The company had been registered under Laura's name, but the banking authorization listed another individual.
Michael Lane.
Martha stared.
“Your name?””
Michael nodded.
“I signed something without understanding what it was.””
“When?””
“About six months before David died. Laura told me she needed help refinancing a business loan. She said David had approved everything.””
Clint's eyes narrowed.
“Did David approve it?””
“No.””
Michael lowered his head.
“I found out later that my signature had been used to authorize transfers from Rachel's account.””
Martha touched his arm.
“Why didn't you tell us?””
“Because Laura threatened me.””
“With what?””
“She said she'd tell the police I had stolen the money. She had copies of my signature and emails that made it look like I was involved.””
Clint examined the paperwork.
“Were you?””
Michael's eyes filled.
“I was careless. I trusted her. But I never took a dollar.””
Martha looked at him.
“And David?””
Michael swallowed.
“David figured it out. He told me he was going to report everyone involved.””
“Everyone?””
Michael nodded.
“Then he had the accident.””
Clint leaned forward.
“Do you think it was an accident?””
Michael looked toward the window.
“I don't know anymore.””
Martha took his hand.
“Tell me about the hospital.””
Michael's face crumpled.
“I went there the night before David died.””
Martha went completely still.
“You were there?””
“Yes.””
“Why didn't you tell me?””
“Because I was told you already knew.””
“Who told you that?””
“Laura.””
Martha pulled her hand away.
Michael continued.
“She said you were too upset to visit and had asked everyone to keep you away.””
Martha shook her head.
“I never knew he was alive.””
“I know that now.””
“What did David say?””
Michael stared at the photograph on the table.
“He asked me to help him get the envelope to you.””
“Did you?””
Michael's eyes filled.
“I tried.””
Clint stood.
“What happened?””
Michael looked directly at him.
“Dr. Caldwell stopped me.””
He took a breath.
“He said David was confused, that his condition was deteriorating, and that I needed to leave the room.””
Clint's jaw tightened.
“Did you see the envelope?””
“Yes. Laura had it in her purse.””
Martha whispered, “And you let her leave?””
Michael began crying.
“I was twenty-nine and terrified. She told me if I interfered, she'd destroy my life. I thought David would recover. I thought I'd have another chance.””
He wiped his face.
“I never got another chance.””
Martha stared at him.
Then she asked the question he had been avoiding.
“Michael, what did you mean when you said someone made sure David never left the hospital alive?””
Michael opened his mouth.
Before he could answer, someone knocked violently on the front door.
Three hard knocks.
Then a woman's voice called from outside.
“Michael! I know you're in there!””
Michael stood so quickly that his chair fell backward.
Martha recognized the voice.
Rachel.
Michael whispered:
“She knows we're here.””
May you like
And then he said something that made Clint reach for his phone.
“She wasn't supposed to find out about the recording.””
