David Chen’s voice on the phone was careful, measured. «Thomas, I need you to come to my office today. It’s about Marcus.»
My hand tightened around my coffee mug. Marcus Webb had been dead for two months. It was cancer. He was sixty-seven years old and gone just six weeks after the diagnosis.
We’d been friends since college and business partners for twenty years. We were best men at each other’s weddings. I’d spoken at his funeral and held his wife Linda’s hand at the reception.
I couldn’t sleep for weeks after. «What about Marcus?» I asked.
«He left something for you,» David replied. «A package. With very specific instructions that I wasn’t to give it to you until today.»
«Exactly sixty days after his death,» David paused before continuing. «Thomas, he made me promise. Said you’d understand why when you saw it.»
I drove to his office in a daze. The September morning was crisp, with leaves just starting to turn. At sixty-five, I’d thought I was done with surprises.
My life had settled into a comfortable routine after the chaos of the tech industry. I’d sold my company five years ago and retired wealthy. I spent two years traveling before my first wife, Catherine, died suddenly of a stroke.
Then came the dark years: the loneliness and the empty house. That lasted until Vanessa. I’d met her at a charity gala four years ago.
She was forty-two, beautiful, and attentive. Her son, Kyle, was nineteen then and studying business. She’d been divorced and struggling, and I’d been drowning in grief.
We married after a year. Marcus had been the only one who seemed hesitant, but I’d written it off as him being overprotective. Now he was gone.
David’s secretary showed me into his office. He stood, shook my hand, and then pulled a small package from his safe. It was a USB drive in a sealed envelope with my name written in Marcus’ distinctive handwriting.
«He recorded this three weeks before he died,» David said quietly. «He was very clear. Watch it alone, then call me.»
I drove home. Vanessa was at her book club and wouldn’t be back until evening. Kyle was supposedly at his apartment near campus, though I paid the rent and never actually saw him attend classes.
I went to my study, locked the door, and plugged in the USB. Marcus’ face filled the screen. He looked gaunt from the cancer, with oxygen tubes in his nose, but his eyes were sharp and clear.
«Tom,» he said, using the nickname only he used. «If you’re watching this, I’m gone. And I need you to listen carefully.»
«I need you to trust me one more time,» he continued. «Like you did when we started the company with nothing but student loans and a dream.» He coughed and took a breath from the oxygen.
«Your wife Vanessa and her son Kyle are planning to kill you.»
I hit pause and stared at the screen. This was insane. Marcus had been on heavy pain medication those last weeks. This had to be some kind of delusion, some paranoid fantasy brought on by the drugs.
But Marcus’ voice had been steady and clear. I pressed play again.
«I know what you’re thinking,» the video continued. «That I was doped up. Seeing things. I wish that were true, brother.»
«But I spent my last good weeks having Linda’s nephew… You remember Jake? The private investigator? Look into some things that had been bothering me.»
Marcus’ jaw tightened on the screen. «What he found is on this drive. Documents. Recordings. Photos. Everything you need.»
He leaned closer to the camera. «Vanessa married you for your money, Tom. Only your money. She and Kyle have done this before.»
«Her first husband? The one she said left her for another woman? He’s dead. Fell down the stairs in their home six months after changing his life insurance to make her the beneficiary. Ruled an accident.»
«The husband before that? Died of a heart attack at 46, three months after their wedding. Also had just updated his insurance.»
My mouth went dry. Marcus continued, «I couldn’t prove those deaths were murder. But I can prove what they’re planning for you.»
«Open the folder labeled ‘Current Plot’. Jake got audio recordings. Kyle is an idiot; he talks on his phone like nobody can hear him.»
«They’ve been buying life insurance policies in your name. Forging your signature. They have someone who’s going to make it look like a home invasion gone wrong.»
«It’s supposed to happen next month. Sometime in October.» Marcus coughed again, his face twisting in pain.
«The second folder has their financial records. Vanessa’s been moving money from your accounts to offshore accounts in the Cayman Islands. Small amounts you wouldn’t notice, but it adds up to almost $200,000 over three years.»
«She’s careful. Patient. But she’s getting ready to run after you’re gone.» He wiped his eyes. «I’m sorry, brother. I’m sorry I can’t be there to help you through this.»
«I’m sorry I didn’t push harder when you were dating her. I saw something was off, but you seemed happy for the first time since Catherine died. And I thought maybe I was just being overprotective.»
His voice broke. «Take this to the police. To David. Protect yourself. And Tom, don’t let them know you know. Not until you’re ready. These people are dangerous.»
The video ended. I sat in the dark study for an hour. My mind replayed the last three years: Vanessa’s attentiveness when we first met, and how quickly she’d moved into my house.
I remembered how she’d encouraged me to update my will and to consolidate my accounts for easier management. Then there was the way she always pushed me to take the vitamins. She bought special ones, she said, for men my age.
The vitamins. I went to the bathroom, found the bottle, and opened it. The pills looked normal.
But Marcus’s words echoed in my mind: Don’t let them know you know. I took a photo of the pills, dumped them in a Ziploc bag, and replaced them with similar-looking vitamins from the drugstore.
Then I opened the folders on the USB drive. Jake Rodriguez had been thorough. There were audio recordings of Kyle talking to his girlfriend about «the old man» and how they’d be rich soon.
There were photos of Vanessa meeting with a man Jake identified as Raymond Torres, a convicted armed robber who’d been released from prison eight months ago. There were bank records showing the offshore transfers.