Chapter 11 - AUNT BETSY DISAPPEARS
Betsy’s car was found at Nashville International Airport.
She had not boarded a flight.
Her phone was discovered inside a trash can.
Her purse was missing.
So was thirty-eight thousand dollars from one of her accounts.
Police initially believed she had run.
Then the unknown number texted me again.
Betsy isn’t running from police.
She’s running from Teresa.
I immediately sent the message to Bennett.
“Who keeps sending these?”
Amy asked.
“I don’t know.”
But someone inside my mother’s circle clearly wanted us to know more.
Bennett traced the phone through prepaid devices and public Wi-Fi.
No luck.
Then Betsy herself contacted police.
She walked into a station in Bowling Green, Kentucky, two days later.
She was exhausted.
Terrified.
And ready to cooperate.
Betsy requested immunity.
Prosecutors refused to promise anything.
So she offered evidence first.
Recordings.
Hundreds of them.
For years, Betsy had secretly recorded Teresa.
Not because she wanted justice.
Because she wanted insurance.
Insurance against my mother.
The first recording investigators allowed us to hear had been made three weeks before Frederick’s birthday.
Teresa’s voice was unmistakable.
“Connor signs Friday.”
Mason answered.
“What if Amy refuses?”
“She won’t.”
“She’s getting suspicious.”
“Then scare her.”
My jaw tightened.
Betsy’s voice entered.
“How?”
Teresa laughed.
“Remind her she has no income.”
I looked at Amy.
Her eyes lowered.
The recording continued.
“She thinks Connor will always choose her.”
Teresa said.
“He won’t.”
Mason asked.
“And after the transfer?”
“We put the house under Sloan.”
“What about the baby?”
Teresa paused.
“Frederick stays where he belongs.”
My hands went cold.
“With Connor?”
Betsy asked.
“With the Bradleys.”
Teresa replied.
“And Amy?”
Another pause.
Then my mother said.
“She can go back wherever she came from.”
Amy turned away.
I stopped the recording.
I could not listen anymore.
Bennett waited.
“There’s one more section you should hear.”
“I’ve heard enough.”
“This concerns you.”
She restarted the recording.
Mason asked.
“What happens if Connor figures it out?”
My mother answered without hesitation.
“He never figured out what happened to his father.”
The room went silent.
Bennett stopped the audio.
I stared at her.
“What did she mean?”
“We don’t know.”
I stood.
“You told me you weren’t investigating his death.”
“We weren’t.”
“Were?”
May you like
Bennett held my gaze.
“We are now.”
