Chapter 7: What Dennis Did Next
I called Ruth from Gerald's front step.
She answered on the first ring.
"Mom.
What is happening?"
"Listen to me carefully," I said.
"The man who called you is not a journalist.
His name is Dennis Hale.
He was your father's business partner many years ago.
Do not speak to him again.
Do not answer any calls from numbers you don't recognize.
Not today."
"You're frightening me."
"I know.
I'm sorry.
I need you to trust me for a little longer."
"Does this have something to do with Dad?"
I looked at the quiet street.
A dog was barking somewhere.
A perfectly ordinary Tuesday morning.
"Yes," I said.
"I'll explain everything soon.
I promise.
But right now I need you to call your brother and tell him the same thing.
Don't talk to anyone about your father's finances.
Not yet."
Ruth was quiet for a moment.
"Okay," she said.
"Okay, Mom."
I went back inside.
Carl was helping Gerald stack the documents into two organized piles — originals and copies.
Gerald had already made copies for us.
He handed me a sealed envelope.
"Everything Patricia Vane will need," he said.
"The timeline, the transfer records, the recorder — that's a copy of the audio on a USB drive — and a signed statement from me."
"Thank you," I said.
"For keeping all of this.
For not letting it disappear."
Gerald looked at me steadily.
"John was a good man who made a frightened decision and spent three years paying for it.
That's not the same as being a bad man." He paused.
"Dennis Hale has been doing this his entire career.
John was not his first."
"There are others?"
"Patricia will be able to tell you more.
But yes.
I have reason to believe there are at least two other families." Gerald's expression didn't change, but something behind his eyes did.
"Dennis is careful.
But careful people leave patterns."
Carl and I drove back toward the city.
Forty minutes in, Carl's phone rang.
He looked at the screen.
"Dennis," he said.
"Put it on speaker," I said.
Carl answered.
"Hello."
"Where are you?" Dennis's voice was different now.
The smoothness was still there, but underneath it something had tightened.
"Driving," Carl said.
"You went to Millhaven."
Carl didn't answer.
"Carl." The smoothness dropped one register.
"I want you to think very carefully about what you're doing.
I am the only family you have left.
I gave you a job when you had nothing.
I paid for your apartment for two years after your mother d*ed.
You owe me more than this."
"I owe you honesty," Carl said.
"I think that's what I'm giving you."
"Don't be naive." Dennis's voice hardened.
"Those documents implicate John Calloway.
If this goes forward, his estate gets frozen pending investigation.
His widow loses access to their joint accounts while it's sorted out.
That could take years.
Is that what you want for her?"
I leaned slightly toward the phone.
"Mr.
Hale," I said.
"This is Eleanor Calloway."
Silence.
"I want you to know," I said, "that I have spoken with Gerald Foss.
I have the transfer records, the timeline, and a recording my husband made in October 2021.
I have already been given the name of a financial crimes attorney.
And I want you to know one more thing."
I kept my voice even.
"John's estate is in my name.
Solely.
We restructured everything in 2020 for exactly this kind of situation, because John was more careful than you gave him credit for.
There is nothing for you to freeze."
Another silence.
Longer this time.
"You're making a mistake," Dennis said.
His voice had gone flat.
"I've already made the call," I said.
"Patricia Vane is expecting us this afternoon."
The line went d*ad.
Carl exhaled slowly.
His hands on the wheel were white at the knuckles.
"Is that true?" he asked.
"About the estate?"
"Yes," I said.
"John restructured everything after he confronted Dennis.
Gerald helped him." I looked out the window.
"He was frightened.
But he wasn't completely still."
Carl nodded slowly.
We drove in silence for a while.
"He'll try something else," Carl said.
"I know."
"What do we do?"
"We get to Patricia Vane's office before he does."
Carl pressed the accelerator.
The road opened up ahead of us.
My phone buzzed.
A text from an unknown number.
Not four words this time.
May you like
Just one.
*Careful.*
