Chapter 6 - STORAGE UNIT 314
Detective Collins would not allow me inside the storage facility.
This time, I did not argue.
I stayed with Lily while officers executed the warrant.
Two hours later, Collins returned carrying photographs.
Storage Unit 314 contained almost nothing ordinary.
No furniture.
No boxes of childhood belongings.
No sports equipment.
Instead, police found three laptops.
Six prepaid phones.
Bank records.
Copies of Lily’s birth certificate.
A duplicate death certificate for Anna.
And nearly $40,000 in cash.
There was also a small locked case.
Inside were two empty injector boxes.
Both matched the brand Lily used.
The lot numbers matched prescriptions filled under Lily’s name.
But I had never picked them up.
Reed traced the pharmacy security footage.
Michael had.
Four months earlier.
He had told the pharmacist he was Lily’s uncle and was collecting medication for me.
The prescriptions were legitimate.
The pickup was not.
“He had backup injectors for months,” I said.
Collins nodded.
“Which means removing yours at the luncheon was not spontaneous.”
Another photograph showed a whiteboard hanging inside the storage unit.
Dates had been written across it.
My work schedule.
Lily’s school schedule.
Evelyn’s charity luncheon.
And a court filing date exactly three days after the luncheon.
They had expected Lily’s reaction to create enough evidence for an emergency custody petition.
If I appeared negligent, Evelyn and Michael could ask the court to remove me as trustee.
Once I lost control of Lily’s guardianship, I would also lose practical control over her trust.
Reed placed another document in front of me.
“This is where the missing money went.”
Blue Harbor Consulting belonged to Michael.
Hart Family Wellness Foundation belonged to Evelyn.
They had been transferring funds between the two entities for nearly eighteen months.
Sometimes the money returned to the trust.
Sometimes it did not.
A classic attempt to hide withdrawals beneath layers of legitimate-looking transactions.
“How much did Michael personally receive?”
“At least four hundred and twelve thousand.”
“Evelyn?”
“Approximately three hundred thousand that we can currently prove.”
I looked at the remaining discrepancy.
“And the rest?”
“We’re still tracing it.”
Collins hesitated.
“There is something else.”
One prepaid phone from the storage unit contained a deleted voicemail.
Technicians had recovered part of it.
The voice belonged to Evelyn.
Her words were clear.
“You promised she would survive.”
Then Michael answered.
“That depends on how quickly Daniel realizes the injectors are gone.”
My vision blurred.
They had discussed the possibility that Lily might not survive.
They had accepted it.
My little girl’s life had been a variable in their financial plan.
Collins’ phone rang.
She listened.
Then looked toward me.
“Evelyn has requested an attorney.”
“That’s not surprising.”
“No.”
“What is surprising is who just arrived to represent her.”
May you like
I already knew before she said the name.
“Robert Sloan.”
