Chapter 7: The Call
Chapter 7: The Call
Three hundred miles away...
Preston sat alone in the back corner of a roadside diner just outside Indianapolis.
The morning crowd barely noticed him.
The black baseball cap hid most of his face.
The sunglasses remained on, even indoors.
A half-empty cup of coffee sat untouched in front of him.
His phone rested on the table.
Not the titanium iPhone he had planted on Sophie.
That one was locked away in a police evidence bag.
This was a prepaid burner phone.
Untraceable.
He stared at the screen for nearly a minute before dialing the only number he had memorized.
His father answered on the second ring.
"Where are you?"
Preston glanced toward the window.
"It doesn't matter."
"It matters to the police."
"They'll find you."
"They won't."
His father lowered his voice.
"An arrest warrant is coming."
"I know."
There was a long silence.
Then Preston asked the question that had haunted him since leaving the hotel.
"Did Mom tell them anything?"
"No."
"What about Amelia?"
Another pause.
"She gave a statement."
Preston cursed under his breath.
"I knew she'd panic."
"She didn't know your plan."
"Because she didn't need to."
His father sighed.
"Preston..."
"What?"
"Tell me the truth."
The question hung between them.
"For once in your life..."
"Did you really put that phone in Sophie's pocket?"
Preston didn't answer immediately.
Instead, he looked out the window as cars rolled past the diner.
Finally, he spoke.
"I had to."
His father's voice hardened.
"What do you mean, you had to?"
"Evelyn was going to ruin everything."
"How?"
"She was always trying to make Sophie the center of attention."
"Everyone kept talking about the flower girl."
"The flower girl?" his father repeated.
"They were supposed to be talking about my wedding."
For several seconds...
Neither man spoke.
Then his father quietly asked,
"So you framed an eight-year-old child..."
"...because people complimented her?"
Preston's breathing grew heavier.
"You don't understand."
"No."
"I don't."
Preston leaned forward.
"It started months ago."
"What started?"
"I found out Grandpa changed his will."
His father froze.
"What?"
"He left something to Evelyn."
My grandfather.
The man who had passed away five years earlier.
The man who had always treated me differently from my parents.
Preston continued.
"The trust fund."
"What trust fund?"
"The one Grandpa never told us about."
His father's voice became uncertain.
"I don't know anything about a trust."
"I found the paperwork."
"It names Evelyn."
"And Sophie."
"But not me."
Silence.
"If Evelyn challenged Grandpa's estate..."
"If lawyers started digging..."
"They'd discover everything."
His father frowned.
"Everything?"
"The loans."
"The gambling debts."
"The money I borrowed."
"You've been gambling?"
"I was investing."
"Don't lie to me."
Preston slammed his fist onto the table.
"I SAID I WAS INVESTING!"
Several diners looked in his direction.
He lowered his voice again.
"I just needed more time."
"So you decided to destroy your sister instead?"
"I only wanted people to stop trusting her."
His father sounded horrified.
"You framed a child."
"I didn't mean for anyone to get hurt."
"But she did."
"It was an accident."
"You hit her with a wooden board."
"I lost my temper."
His father closed his eyes.
For the first time in decades...
He heard his son's excuses exactly as everyone else would.
And suddenly...
They sounded empty.
Back in Chicago...
Detective Brooks sat inside the Major Crimes office reviewing financial records.
Officer Ramirez entered carrying another file.
"You'll want to see this."
Brooks looked up.
"What is it?"
"We subpoenaed Preston's bank statements."
"And?"
Ramirez opened the folder.
"He isn't wealthy."
Brooks frowned.
"What do you mean?"
"The wedding looked expensive."
"It was."
"But almost everything was financed."
He slid several pages across the desk.
"Credit cards."
"Personal loans."
"Late payments."
Brooks scanned the documents.
His eyebrows rose.
"This can't be right."
"It is."
"He's nearly two million dollars in debt."
Ramirez nodded.
"And that's not the worst part."
He handed Brooks another report.
"The week before the wedding..."
"Someone accessed the probate records for Harold Carter's estate."
Brooks immediately recognized the family name.
"My grandfather," I whispered after Brooks called to update me.
"He left a trust?"
"We're still confirming it."
"But someone definitely searched the records."
Brooks tapped the report.
"The access came from Preston's office computer."
I felt the room spin.
"So this wasn't just about humiliating Sophie."
"No."
"I think the wedding was only the beginning."
"What do you mean?"
"If Preston believed your grandfather left something valuable to you..."
"He may have been trying to destroy your credibility."
"So no one would believe me later."
"Exactly."
I looked through the hospital window where Sophie was sleeping peacefully.
All this...
Because of money.
Because of jealousy.
Because one man couldn't accept that someone else had been loved.
Detective Brooks' phone suddenly rang.
He answered immediately.
"Brooks."
A smile slowly spread across his face.
"You've got him?"
He stood up.
"When?"
He listened for another few seconds before hanging up.
I held my breath.
"Was that..."
He nodded.
"Indiana State Police."
"They found Preston."
Relief flooded through me.
"But..."
Brooks' smile disappeared.
"He refused to surrender."
"What happened?"
"He got back in his car..."
"...and led officers on a high-speed chase across the interstate."
May you like
The hunt for Preston Carter...
Had just entered a dangerous new chapter.
