Chapter 6: The Number in the Planner
Ruth dialled it from her own phone, on speaker, parked outside the police station.
It rang four times.
Then a man's voice — older, careful.
"Hello?"
"My name is Ruth Calloway," Ruth said.
"My brother is Daniel Calloway.
He gave this number to his daughter as an emergency contact.
We're trying to find him.
He's been missing since Tuesday."
A long pause.
"Is Maya with you?" the man asked.
Ruth and Maya looked at each other.
"Yes," Maya said, leaning toward the phone.
"I'm here.
Who are you?"
"My name is Gerald Marsh," the man said.
"I'm a solicitor.
Your father came to see me six weeks ago, Maya.
He asked me to hold some documents for him and to keep this number safe.
He said if you ever called it, I was to tell you one thing first."
Maya's throat tightened.
"What?"
"He said to tell you: *the money in the blue tin is yours.
Don't let anyone tell you otherwise.*"
The blue tin.
Maya knew it immediately — a small painted tin that had sat on the top shelf of her father's wardrobe for as long as she could remember.
He had told her once, years ago, that her mother had given it to him before she died.
That it held something important for Maya when she was older.
Sarah had tried to move it once, early on, and Maya's father had been quietly, completely immovable about it staying exactly where it was.
"What's in it?" Maya asked.
"I can't tell you the contents," Gerald said.
"But I can tell you that your father updated his will six weeks ago.
And that the primary beneficiary is you.
Not his wife."
Ruth made a sound — not quite a word.
"He changed his will," Maya said slowly.
"After he found out about the money she was taking."
"I can't discuss the specifics of what prompted any changes," Gerald said carefully.
"What I can tell you is that your father was very clear-headed when he came to see me.
He was not under any pressure.
He knew exactly what he wanted." A pause.
"He also left a sealed letter with me.
To be opened in the event that he could not be reached for more than seventy-two hours."
Maya went very still.
"It's been seventy-two hours."
"I know," Gerald said.
"I've been waiting for this call."
They drove to Gerald Marsh's office — a small, neat building above a dry cleaner's on a quiet street twenty minutes away.
Gerald was in his seventies, with a careful handshake and an office that smelled of old paper and instant coffee.
He brought Maya a glass of water without being asked and set it on the desk in front of her before he sat down.
He placed a white envelope on the desk between them.
Maya's name was written on the front in her father's handwriting.
She picked it up.
The paper was slightly thicker than usual.
She turned it over.
"Take your time," Gerald said quietly.
She opened it.
The letter was two pages, handwritten.
She read it once quickly, her eyes moving too fast to take in everything.
Then she went back to the beginning and read it again, slowly.
Her father had written it three weeks ago.
He explained that he had discovered, over the previous month, that Sarah had been making transfers from his accounts — small at first, then larger.
He had said nothing to Sarah because he wanted to be certain before he acted.
He had changed his will.
He had spoken to a financial crimes advisor.
He had been building a case.
He had also written this: *I don't believe I am in danger.
But I want you to have this letter in case I am wrong.
If you are reading it, something has happened that I did not plan for.
Trust Ruth.
Trust Gerald.
Go to the police if you haven't already.
And know that everything I have done in the last six weeks, I did to make sure you were protected.*
The last line read: *You are the best thing that ever happened to me.
Your mother would be so proud of who you are.*
Maya set the letter down on the desk.
She pressed both hands flat on the surface and looked at the grain of the wood.
Ruth reached over and put her hand over Maya's.
Neither of them spoke for a moment.
Then Maya looked up at Gerald.
"The police need to see this letter."
"I have a copy ready for them," he said.
"I've also prepared the financial documentation your father gathered.
It's substantial." He folded his hands on the desk.
"Maya, your father was very thorough.
Whatever Sarah thought she was getting away with — she wasn't."
Maya picked up the letter again and read the last line once more.
Then she folded it carefully, put it back in the envelope, and held it against her chest.
"Where is he?" she said.
Not to Gerald.
Not to Ruth.
Just out loud, into the room.
Nobody answered.
May you like
But Gerald's phone rang at that exact moment, and when he picked it up and listened for ten seconds, something shifted in his face — a loosening, a relief — and he looked at Maya and said:
"The police have found him."
