Another voice followed, sharper this time.
“Your mother involved you in something she shouldn’t have.” DNAtest kits
I opened the envelope with trembling hands.
The note was short.
Emily, if anyone follows you here, do not trust the police, Richard Hale, or anyone from Lawson Financial. Take the red folder and leave through the back fence. I’m sorry.
Richard Hale had been my mother’s boss for nineteen years.
That morning, he had hugged me at her funeral.
I had thanked him for coming.
Outside, something scraped against the lock.
I opened the file box at my feet.
Inside were labeled folders, a flash drive taped under the lid, bank records, copies of documents, and one red folder filled with wire transfer records and signatures.
Then I saw the back wall.
A sheet of plywood covered part of it.
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