The investigation continued through the night.
The warehouse remained closed while fire investigators examined the damaged records area.
Daniel Voss could not be found.
Megan was still in custody.
The documents recovered from the storage unit were being cataloged.
And my identity had become the center of an investigation I had never agreed to join.
At two in the morning, Ramirez returned with another transcript.
“We found more audio.”
He placed the recorder on the table.
Megan's voice came first.
“I don't have everything.”
Daniel answered.
“You have enough.”
“No. I need the rest.”
“You promised.”
“I need time.”
“You've had months.”
A chair scraped.
Then Megan said something that made my stomach tighten.
“Liam is going to find out.”
Daniel laughed.
“He already has.”
The recording stopped.
I looked at Ramirez.
“What does that mean?”
“We don't know.”
He continued the recording.
Daniel's voice returned.
“Your brother is useful because he doesn't know what your father did.”
I looked at Dad.
He had been sitting beside me.
His face went pale.
“What did I do?”
I looked at him.
“I don't know.”
Daniel continued.
“Arthur knows the original records exist.”
Megan answered.
“And Liam has copies.”
I felt cold.
“What records?”
Ramirez paused the recording.
“That is what we're trying to establish.”
I turned toward Dad.
“What is he talking about?”
Dad didn't answer.
“Dad.”
He rubbed his hands together.
“I haven't thought about this in years.”
“What?”
“Arthur Bell.”
“Why would Daniel mention you and Arthur together?”
Dad looked at Ramirez.
Then at me.
“Because Arthur once worked with me.”
“You said that.”
“I didn't tell you everything.”
I stared at him.
“What didn't you tell me?”
Dad's voice was low.
“Years ago, before you married Rachel, I worked for a company that supplied equipment to several warehouses.”
“Arthur was there?”
“Yes.”
“What happened?”
Dad looked away.
“There was a financial investigation.”
“Into what?”
“Inventory.”
My stomach tightened.
“The same kind of inventory Megan was accused of altering?”
“Possibly connected.”
“Dad.”
He closed his eyes.
“I found irregularities.”
“What kind?”
Shipments were being recorded twice.
Equipment appeared on one set of records and disappeared from another.
Invoices were being paid to companies that didn't exist.
I stared at him.
“Did you report it?”
“Yes.”
“What happened?”
“I was told to stop.”
“By whom?”
Dad looked at me.
“Arthur.”
I felt the pieces shift.
“Then why did you stay?”
“I didn't.”
“What happened?”
“I left.”
“Did you keep records?”
He hesitated.
“Yes.”
My heart started pounding.
“Where?”
Dad swallowed.
“I gave copies to someone I trusted.”
“Who?”
He didn't answer.
“Dad.”
“Your mother.”
I looked at Mom.
She had arrived earlier and was sitting across the room.
Her face was expressionless.
“You had the records?”
She nodded.
“For years.”
“Why?”
“Because your father was afraid.”
Dad interrupted.
“I wasn't afraid for myself.”
Mom looked at him.
“You should have been.”
Silence filled the room.
I turned back to Dad.
“What happened to the originals?”
“They were destroyed.”
“By who?”
“We don't know.”
I thought about the warehouse fire.
Then about the recovered USB.
The old records.
The forged documents.
Everything suddenly seemed connected.
“Did Megan know about this?”
Dad shook his head.
“Not at first.”
“Then how?”
“Your mother told her.”
I looked at Mom.
She began crying.
“I thought she could help.”
“Help with what?”
“Arthur.”
Mom explained that Megan had discovered the old records while helping organize family documents.
She had recognized Arthur's name from the warehouse.
She confronted him.
He threatened her.
Then he offered her money.
At first, she refused.
Later, she accepted a loan.
Then another.
The debt began.
And the manipulation followed.
I stared at Mom.
“So you knew.”
“I knew pieces.”
“You knew enough.”
“Yes.”
“Why didn't you tell me?”
“Because I thought I could fix it.”
That sentence had become the family's favorite excuse.
I could fix it.
I could handle it.
I could keep everyone calm.
I could make the problem disappear.
But problems didn't disappear.
They moved.
From one person to another.
From one account to another.
From one lie to another.
Ramirez asked Mom, “Where are the original records now?”
She shook her head.
“I don't know.”
Dad looked at her.
“You do.”
“I don't.”
“You moved them.”
Mom looked at him.
“What are you talking about?”
“The blue box.”
Her expression changed.
I noticed.
“What blue box?”
Neither answered.
“Dad.”
He looked at me.
“Your mother kept the records in a blue document box.”
“Where?”
Mom whispered, “I destroyed it.”
Dad stared at her.
“When?”
“Years ago.”
“Why?”
“Because Arthur threatened to expose all of us.”
I frowned.
“All of us?”
Mom looked at me.
“You were still a child.”
“What did I have to do with it?”
“Nothing.”
“Then why say all of us?”
She didn't answer.
Ramirez leaned forward.
“Mrs. Carter, what did Arthur have on your family?”
Mom closed her eyes.
“Nothing.”
“That's not what your husband believes.”
She looked at Dad.
He shook his head.
“You need to tell him.”
Mom began crying.
Finally she said, “There was money.”
“What money?”
“Money from the old company.”
Dad looked stunned.
“You took it?”
“No.”
“Then who?”
Mom looked at me.
“Your father.”
I stared at Dad.
He shook his head.
“Not the way she means.”
“What way does she mean?”
Dad's voice broke.
“I received a payment after I left.”
“Why?”
“For information.”
“What information?”
“I gave the investigators copies of the records.”
“So you were paid?”
“No. I was compensated for legal costs.”
Mom interrupted.
“You never told me.”
“I didn't want you involved.”
“But the money went through my account.”
Dad looked down.
“That was a mistake.”
I stared at both of them.
A mistake.
Another word that had covered years of secrets.
Ramirez asked for the bank records.
Dad agreed.
The investigation now had another financial trail.
One that went back decades.
While he prepared the documents, I received a message.
From Megan.
“I know you found out about Dad.”
I stared at the screen.
Then another message.
“Please don't believe everything Mom tells you.”
I looked at Mom.
Another message appeared.
“Ask her where the blue box really went.”
I showed Ramirez.
He immediately requested that Megan be brought into the interview room.
She arrived ten minutes later.
Her face looked exhausted.
Ramirez asked her directly.
“Where is the blue box?”
Megan looked at Mom.
Mom began crying.
“You told me it was destroyed,” Megan said.
Mom didn't answer.
Megan turned to me.
“It's not destroyed.”
“Where is it?”
She shook her head.
“I don't know.”
“Then why tell me to ask Mom?”
“Because she knows.”
Mom stood.
“Megan, stop.”
“No.”
For the first time, Megan's voice was firm.
“You told me everything would be fine.”
“I tried.”
“You gave me Dad's statements.”
“I thought you needed help.”
“You knew Arthur was involved.”
Mom's face crumpled.
“I was protecting you.”
“You were protecting yourself.”
The words landed heavily.
Megan looked at me.
“Liam, the blue box contains the original records.”
“Where?”
“I don't know.”
“Who does?”
She hesitated.
Then she whispered a name.
“Arthur Bell.”
Dad looked up.
“He has it?”
Megan nodded.
“He took it years ago.”
Ramirez immediately asked, “Why would he keep it?”
Megan looked at him.
“Because it proves he wasn't working alone.”
“Who else?”
She looked at Dad.
Then at Mom.
Then at me.
“The person who ordered the shipments.”
I waited.
Megan swallowed.
“You know him.”
“Who?”
She whispered the name.
I recognized it instantly.
It was the name of my father's former boss.
And he had died twelve years ago.
Click here to continue reading: PART 12: The Man Megan Named Was Supposed to Be Dead, Yet His Company Still Held the Records That Could Explain Everything
One Casual Text Turned Into a Family Demand I Had Never Agreed To, and I Realized Too Late That My Apartment Was Only the Beginning
Part 11 of 20
