by Tara Thomas
He passed the paper across the desk. Knox’s took it and his eyes grew wide as he took in what he’d been handed. “A death certificate?”
“Yes.” Keaton wasn’t teasing anymore. “Our supposed sister.”
“I think it’s fairly certain at this point to say we had a sister.” Knox pointed to the death certificate. “Now, whether she’s still alive is another question all together. Along with what are we to make of all this data and shit.”
“Tilly said she thought it was all connected somehow.”
“Bea and I think the same. Somehow and somewhere there’s a thread that connects Tilly’s dad to this missing sister and the threats on me and Bea.”
“Still getting those?” Keaton asked.
“She got a phone call last night. Some jerk and a watch. It almost sent her into a panic attack.”
“She still gets those?” Keaton asked.
“Yes, but thankfully not as frequently or intense as they’ve been in the past.”
“Is she seeing someone?” At Knox’s raised eyebrow, he added, “I meant a professional. A therapist or something. Tilly went to one after her ordeal. If you like, I can get the phone number.”
“Sure, give it to me,” Knox said. “I’m not sure she’ll go, but I think it’d be a good idea to at least have the number.”
“I’ll look it up and give to you later today.” Keaton looked at his watch. “Got to go. I’m late meeting Tilly.”
Knox told his brother good-bye, right as Bea came in.
“What are you looking at?” she asked after giving him a quick kiss.
“This death certificate,” he said. “I can’t put my finger on what, but something’s off.”
Bea looked over it. “Something’s definitely odd.”
Knox sighed and went back to his desk. “Maybe we’re looking at all of this wrong.”
“That’s it,” she said, so softly at first he thought he imagined it. But then she looked up at him and smiled. “It’s a fake.”
“It is?” He pushed back from the desk and went to where she stood.
“Look at this.” She pointed to the number in the upper right corner. “It’s four numbers.”
“And that’s not right?”
She shook her head. “No, and because of that, it’s not valid. It’s a fake. Now look at this.” She handed him a paper she’d printed from Mr. Brock’s HR file. “What do you see?” Bea asked.
He put the list down and pointed. “Tilly’s dad had his issues with the company at almost the exact same time the death certificate was issued. That can’t be a coincidence.”
“I don’t think so, either. Unfortunately, it only brings up more questions instead of answering them. I mean, do we really think that Tilly’s dad was somehow involved in the death of your sister?”
“Maybe that was why he had to be kicked out of the company. He knew too much.” But as soon as he thought it, he dismissed it. “But then again, it didn’t seem like Dad. I can’t see him treating his good friend like that. Not any more than he could see Mr. Brock stealing from them, I guess. But when everything had come to light back then, the evidence had been so solid against Mr. Brock, Dad really didn’t have a choice but to fire him.” Knox remembered that time. His father had been depressed. His mother almost hysterical.
Bea reached for his hand and gave it a gentle squeeze.
“I remember thinking about Keaton and what he was going to do without Tilly. Even back then they were close,” Knox said.
“Answer this for me. Was Mr. Brock the kind of man who would have screwed over his employer that way? And not just his employer, but his best friend as well?”
“No,” he answered. “It didn’t make sense. There’s something we’re missing.”
He had to find it, before it was too late.
* * *
The morning of Bea’s father’s service, she woke up to rain. It was appropriate for such a type of service, but that didn’t make her feel any better. If anything, it only made her realize what a complete failure she was as a daughter, which was bad enough. But that was made worse because she knew she’d never be able to mend that relationship.
At least Knox didn’t try to make her feel better. He simply did what he could to help her, without making much in the way of conversation. Instead, he was as supportive as he could be just by being there and being by her side. There had been some talk among the brothers about her not going to the service, but she’d put her foot down. In the end, they compromised by hiring additional security and putting a good number of them to work outside, with plenty of guards inside as well.
The service was supposed to start at eleven and she spent the time leading up to it feeling like a robot. She functioned, but she tried not to feel or think, frankly not to do much of anything. By the time they drove off for the church, she was ready for the whole thing to be over. All the Benedicts went with her, including Tilly and Lena. She tried to tell him it wasn’t necessary, but they would have none of that and insisted they go along with her.
Brent and Janie met her at the church, having just flown in about an hour before. They were only going to be able to stay for a little bit, but Brent was the only living blood relative she had and she didn’t care how long he stayed as long as he was there. He hugged her at the church and when she sat down, Knox on one side and Brent on the other, she felt so protected and safe.
It was strange to be in her father’s church without her father being there. She kept expecting to look up at the front and see him standing at the pulpit. And though she wouldn’t have thought it before, it hurt her that she should never seem there again.
While members of his church knew of some of the difficulties between her and her father, they didn’t know the extent of it or the details. She wanted it to remain that way. By the time the service started, she was willing to bet every member of the congregation had come up to her to speak to her about the loss of her father.
A neighboring minister and friend of her father’s had offered to do his service. She knew him by name, but they had never spoken before. Throughout the service, she kept looking at the urn that held her father’s ashes and trying to convince herself that he was really in there and wouldn’t be coming back. Her mind searched for an earlier time in their life, when she got along with her father. When they didn’t argue about everything. She was saddened as she couldn’t remember one. Not a single one.
The ladies of the church who planned the service had asked her if she wanted to say a few words. She told them no, that she thought it would be more meaningful for those he’d lived to serve to say a few words. It might be bad of her not to say anything, but it was the truth.
She sat in the front row of the church and she knew the weight of numerous eyes on her back wasn’t a figment of her imagination. They were probably wondering who she thought she was sitting there when there was no love lost between her and her father. When she walked in, she’d wondered if the church would be filled. She should have known it would be.
People from all over the city, from the well-to-do to a few members of the shelter he’d help support. They all came to pay their respects to the man they knew and admired. She was pretty certain none of them knew the real man. Take for instance the flowers. To her father they were a colossal waste of time and money, yet flowers lined the front of the altar. From potted plants to huge sprays of roses. All sent to show their love and respect for a man who didn’t appreciate the gesture in life and, if he could speak from beyond the grave, would no doubt tell them not to waste their money on flowers.
Bea couldn’t help but calculate an estimate of how much had been spent on “a bunch of weeds that were just going to die anyway.” She started with the big sprays and in doing so, noted a large arrangement of dark-colored roses that had she didn’t remember seeing when she’d looked at them earlier. In fact, now that she was seated, she was certain they hadn’t been there before. Add in that strange color—they looked black, but surely that c
ouldn’t be right—and the whole thing had a creepy vibe to it.
“How are you holding up?” Knox slid a hand down to her kneecap, and whispered in her ear.
“I feel like I’m going to throw up.” And now that she’d noticed them, she couldn’t get that spray of roses out of her head. “Do those flowers there on the end look strange to you?”
“I hadn’t noticed them, but now that you brought it to my attention, I have to agree. Very strange and rather ominous.”
The minister shot a nasty look their way and she decided they hadn’t been as quiet as she’d thought they had been. She cut her head to the right for a quick glimpse at Knox, but he was staring at the flowers she’d pointed out. His hand drifted toward his back pocket, where she knew his phone was. He stopped, though, and gave her a quick nod as if to say they would deal with it after the service.
Finally, after what seemed like hours, but in fact had probably only been about forty-five minutes, the minister had them all stand for one last prayer. There wouldn’t be a graveside service since there was no body to bury. Due to the condition of his body, Bea had elected to have his remains cremated. His ashes would be stored at the church.
Of course, even after the service was over, people still came up to her. She didn’t know half of them, but they knew who she was, and that was all that mattered. So for the next half hour she played host and grieving daughter, even though she felt like neither.
It was well past noon by the time everyone had left, other than the Benedicts and a few members of the church. She took the moment of quiet to walk over to the odd-colored roses that had captured her attention during the service. She read the card that was attached to the ribbon. The glass of water she held dropped and shattered on the floor.
Knox was the first one to her side. She held up a trembling finger and pointed to the flowers. There in bright crisp font was a message.
REJOICE IN THE TRUTH. YOU WILL BE REUNITED SOON.
Anyone from the church would have read it as a message meant to bring comfort and hope, but she knew better. Whoever had ordered the flowers and requested that message hadn’t done it as a means to provide comfort. Oh no. She knew exactly what it was. A thinly veiled threat and a warning. Whoever was after her hadn’t given up, they were simply biding their time.
* * *
Bea and Knox were digging through another file box when the doorbell rang. Knox got up to check the security camera before answering the door.
“It’s Alyssa,” he said.
Bea stood up and brushed her pants off. “I wonder if she has new information?”
They let her in and went to go sit in the living room. Bea thought Alyssa looked tired. She had bags in her eyes and appeared altogether harried. The police officer didn’t sit on the couch, but rather collapsed into it.
“Would you like some coffee?” Bea asked.
“I probably should,” Alyssa said. “But I think at this point it would have no effect on me. Except make me crash when the caffeine wore off.”
“That bad?” Bea raised an eyebrow.
“Another girl disappeared last night.” Alyssa sighed. “It’s been a while since we’ve had one. I guess I thought maybe it would stop. It is never going to.”
“Was this one from the same club?” Bea asked. She remembered reading that most of the missing girls had worked at one particular club. Those that hadn’t worked there still had some sort of connection to it.
“Yes,” Alyssa said. “I’m about ready to put that place out of business. Surely if I requested a health inspection, they could find a reason to shut it down.” She looked around. “Is anybody else here today?”
“No, just us,” Knox said. “Everyone else went out to eat. Bea and I stayed here so we could look through some old files.”
And because he didn’t want her to leave the house. But Bea didn’t say that. It was obvious that Alyssa could read between the lines and see the truth, though.
“There are a few things I want to talk about,” Alyssa said.
“If it isn’t Officer Adams.”
They all turned around to see Kipling walk into the room. He gave Alyssa a look of frank assessment, and a hint of something else. Interesting, Bea thought.
“Mr. Benedict,” Alyssa said. “I’m glad you’re here.”
Kipling snorted. “I’m sure.”
“No, truly. This concerns you as well.”
“I thought you went out to eat?” Knox asked.
“I did, but I wanted to stop by the office and I’d left a few things here,” Kipling said. “I came by to pick them up and was going to sneak in the back. Then I saw we had company.”
“Either way,” Alyssa continued, “I’m glad you’re here. Like I said, this concerns you as well.”
“Have you found something?” he asked.
“Actually,” Alyssa said, “it was something you found. We just happened to put two and two together with the information we had. We had some files of information we had found in our earlier investigation. Based on the information we had from previous investigations, added to the new information you sent us, we have reason to believe that your parents’ plane crash was not an accident.”
The silence that encompassed the room was deafening.
Kipling dropped into a nearby chair with a curse. “Are you serious?”
“Yes, that’s why I wanted to come by in person and talk to you. This is very sensitive. And confidential. We aren’t going public with it and we’re going to investigate it quietly. We ask your cooperation do the same. I don’t mind if you tell Keaton and Tilly, but other than that, please don’t let this go further than this room.”
“What information did you find that may make you reopen the case?” Knox asked.
“It was several things, but the most important where in the spreadsheets we found attached to the documents you provided. They show money sent to an offshore account. We were able to trace the account and it led to a dummy account for a well-known hitman.”
“I can’t remember,” Knox said. “Were the spreadsheets from before or after Mr. Brock was fired?”
“I believe,” Bea said, “that the e-mails were before he was fired, but the spreadsheets were after.”
“Which begs the question,” Kipling said. “Who had those spreadsheets?”
“The obvious answer is Tilly’s mom.” Bea couldn’t imagine why she held on to them, though. Especially if she knew what they were. “And we can’t ask her, she died of cancer six years ago.”
“If you’ve traced money to the hitman,” Knox asked Alyssa. “Who transferred the money in the first place?”
“That would be the confidential part.” Alyssa looked unsurprised that he had asked.
“Which means you do have somebody in mind.” Bea wondered how difficult that information would be to get.
“I can’t comment on it since it’s an open investigation.”
Kipling sat forward with his hands on his knees. “I get the feeling that you’re jerking us around.”
“I would do no such thing.”
“I think it’s pretty shitty for you to come in here and tell us our parents didn’t die in an accident, that instead they were murdered and, yes, you have an idea of who did it, but oh, that’s confidential, and I can’t tell you.”
“I didn’t have to tell you anything.”
“Why did you?”
“Forgive me if I thought you’d want to know that your parents had been murdered.” Alyssa stood up. “I’ll make sure not to give you any more information. Technically, I shouldn’t have given you what I did.”
“Sit down.”
“I can’t give you any additional information than what I already have.”
“We know this person?”
“What part of I can’t give you any additional information do you have trouble understanding?”
“I just think—”
“Kipling,” Knox interrupted. “Leave it be and leave her alone. She gave us all t
he information she could and we should be thankful for that.”
“Thank you,” Alyssa said. “But I really do have to be going.”
Bea stood up. “Thank you for coming by.”
“I’ll let you know if anything comes up that I can talk about.” Alyssa said her good-byes. “I know the way out, no need to show me to the door.”
No one said anything until they were sure she had gone. When her car had disappeared down the driveway, Kipling stood up.
“Okay, here’s what we’re going to do. Bea, you finish looking through the file box, to see if you can find anything pertinent. Knox, have you searched the dark web yet?”
Knox shook his head. “But I think it’s time I do.”
“I agree,” Kipling said. “Bea, you’re good with the files? Knox will search the dark web. And I’ll dig around the attic to see if I can find something in those boxes of Dad’s we have up there.”
They all agreed and decided to check back with each other at noon.
Bea waited until Kipling left before talking to Knox. She put a hand on his shoulder. “Be careful. The dark web is nothing to mess around with.”
She knew he was an adult and that he knew what he was doing, but she couldn’t help but be worried. Knox reached down and kissed her on the forehead.
“I’ve been doing this for years. Trust me on this. If there is information out there, I’ll find it.”
“Who do you think it is?” she asked. He had a determined look on his face that made her wonder if he knew more than he was letting on.
“The person that killed Mom and Dad?” At her nod, he continued, “I’m not sure. From what I gathered, he’s still alive. Knowing that, I think it’s possible, everything is related. And I wonder if they’re in Charleston. Were they close to Dad? If so, it might be somebody we know.”
She hadn’t thought of that—the potential that it was somebody the family was close with. “That’s scary to think about.” Especially if that person was responsible for the threats against her.
“Don’t worry,” Knox said. “We’re getting close. I can feel it. We’re going to find this SOB and bring him down.”
Knox left Bea in the living room going through the box of Mr. Brock’s papers. On his way to the downstairs office, he passed a pile of mail Lena had brought in, waiting in the kitchen. He went through each piece to make sure there wasn’t a threat against Bea. If there was, he would make sure she was prepared before she saw it.
