Chapter 8: Mason Speaks
Mason's attorney called Daniel on a Thursday.
Mason wanted to give a full statement.
He wanted to cooperate completely.
In exchange, he was asking for consideration on sentencing.
Daniel told me before the meeting.
"He's going to tell us things we may not want to hear," he said.
"Some of it will be about your mother.
Some of it may be about your father."
I looked up.
"My father has been gone for nine years."
"I know." Daniel held my gaze.
"Be prepared."
We met in a conference room at Daniel's office.
Mason came in with his attorney, a thin man named Garrett who spoke very little.
Mason looked like he had aged five years in a week.
The confidence I had always associated with him — a certain looseness in how he carried himself, like he expected rooms to make space for him — was completely gone.
He sat down across from me and didn't look away.
"I'm sorry, Connor," he said.
"I know that doesn't fix anything."
"Tell me how it started," I said.
He folded his hands on the table.
"It started with your father's will."
I kept my face still.
"When your father died, he left the house to you directly.
Not to Teresa.
She expected to be named.
She had expected it for years.
When the will was read and your name was the only one on the deed, she — " Mason stopped.
"She never recovered from it.
She told me once that your father had promised her.
That he had changed his mind at the end and she hadn't known until it was too late."
"She never told me any of this," I said.
"She wouldn't.
She didn't want you to know she felt entitled to it.
She wanted you to give it to her voluntarily." He paused.
"When you didn't — when you moved Amy in and started building your own life there — she decided she would take it another way."
"And you helped her."
"She came to me two years ago.
She said she had a plan.
She said it was just about protecting family assets.
Making sure the house stayed in the Bradley name if something happened to you." He looked at his hands.
"I knew it wasn't right.
But she's my aunt.
And she told me — " He stopped again.
"What did she tell you?" I asked.
"She told me your father had left something for me too.
In a secondary account.
That if I helped her, she would make sure I got what he intended." Mason's voice was flat.
"There was no account.
I found that out three months in.
By then I had already notarized the first document."
"She used you," I said.
"Yes." He didn't try to soften it.
"And I let her.
Because I wanted to believe her."
The room was quiet.
"The sedative in the food," I said.
"Did you know about that?"
Mason's attorney put a hand on his arm.
Mason shook his head once.
"I didn't know until after.
She told me the night she was arrested.
She said it was just to make things easier.
That you wouldn't have been harmed." He looked up.
"I want you to know I would not have agreed to that.
I know you have no reason to believe me."
I studied his face.
"The envelope," I said.
"The one postmarked eight months ago.
What was in it originally?
Before she intercepted it?"
Mason blinked.
"She wrote that herself.
She was going to send it to you as a warning — a version of the plan that made her look like she was protecting you.
She changed her mind and kept it.
She thought having it in the house might be useful later."
"Useful how?"
"I don't know.
She didn't always explain her reasoning to me."
Daniel leaned forward.
"Mason, the TBR Property Holdings LLC — whose idea was that?"
"Mine," Mason said quietly.
"She asked me to create a legal vehicle for the transfer.
I thought a holding company would make it cleaner.
Less traceable." He looked at me.
"I was wrong about all of it.
Not just legally.
All of it."
He signed his cooperation agreement before he left.
I sat in the conference room after everyone else had gone.
Daniel came back in after a few minutes and set a coffee on the table in front of me.
"You all right?"
"My father left the house to me," I said.
"He left it to me and she spent nine years waiting for me to hand it over."
Daniel sat down.
"She raised me in that house," I said.
"After he died, I let her stay as long as she needed.
I gave her money every month.
I trusted her with my wife and my son." I looked at the table.
"And the whole time, she was building that corkboard."
Daniel didn't say anything.
He let the silence sit.
After a moment I picked up the coffee.
"When does it go to trial?" I asked.
"Arraignment is next week.
Trial likely six to eight months out.
Mason's cooperation will shorten Teresa's options considerably."
I nodded.
May you like
"Go home, Connor," Daniel said.
"Your son is waiting."
