Chapter 7
"Derek has been showing up every few months for two years.
Since Thomas d*ed." She glanced toward Lily.
Lowered her voice.
"Thomas Hale.
He was an accountant.
He'd worked for you briefly — I met him six months after I left, when I was working a register at a grocery store in Ohio.
He recognized me.
He was the only one who ever tried to help." A small pause.
"He kept the photos.
He kept everything.
He said one day I'd need it."
"Why didn't he go to the police?"
"He did.
Eight years ago.
They looked into it and found nothing they could pursue — Victor had covered it well enough by then.
Thomas didn't give up.
He spent years collecting more." Her voice softened.
"He d*ed of a heart attack last spring.
He left me this envelope and a note that said: *Find Walton.
It's time.*"
Lily looked up from her book.
"Grandpa Thomas said you'd know what to do," she told Harold.
The certainty in the child's voice — the simple faith of it — settled in Harold's chest like a stone finding the bottom.
He looked at his daughter.
"You should have called me," he said.
"I would have listened."
"I was afraid you'd choose him."
"He's not who I thought he was."
"No." She looked at the ring in his palm, still resting there.
"But he was very good at making people think he was."
Harold closed his fingers around the ring.
"Victor has been running the company's eastern division for six years," he said, more to himself than to her.
"He reports directly to me.
He controls the subsidiary accounts." His voice dropped.
"He's been in that position for six years."
Anna watched his face.
"Dad," she said carefully.
"There's one more thing in the envelope."
He looked up.
"Thomas found something recent.
From fourteen months ago." She hesitated.
"Victor's been doing it again."
Harold's hand went still.
The heating unit clicked off.
The room went very quiet.
Then his phone rang.
He looked at the screen.
Victor Walton — Calling.
May you like
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## CHAPTER 5: The Son Who Called
