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“Holy fucking ass and pandas!” Harper blew out a breath. “And that money goes to you.” She ran her hand over the line that there, in black and white, stated me as the owner. “He put founding stock in your name years ago.”
I looked to where Harper was pointing.
“Oh, my God, he did.”
“That’s a pretty big motive for the VanBurens to pull the shit they’ve pulled.”
“Motive.” The single word clicked everything together. It was what the detective was looking for. The link that tied this all together. Jack had been right. Why would someone—aka Brock—be after me if there was nothing to gain? “This is what Brock was looking for when he broke into my house.”
“And when he didn’t find it, it’s probably why he burned the place.”
“It couldn’t have been him. He was in jail.”
“Then it was your bitch of a step-mother.”
I nodded. “That makes sense.”
Harper just shook her head. “If you’re not in his will, and there isn’t any other documentation on this, then once the company is sold, these documents won’t matter. Lana, you have to get to that meeting. Because this is the only way to show that when the company sells, the money goes to you.”
I nodded. The meeting was set for later today, so I had a few hours, but this was…terrifying. It all made sense now.
“This was why the stalking started in the first place,” I muttered. “I think my father wanted to sell months ago, that’s why Brock came back. Anita must have found out. He could have left her and taken his money with him. I think my dad was going to walk away from Anita and take the profits of the business with him.”
“That makes sense,” Harper agreed. “Maybe they found out somehow about the documents and killed him when he wouldn’t—”
Harper stopped when my retch knocked on my throat.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I didn’t mean to be insensitive.”
“You’re not,” I said. “Aside from everything, my father and I had a flawed relationship.” I thought back to all the bad moments. All the times I needed him and he wasn’t there. Then I thought of the few things he’d said. The hope I’d held on to. “He told me to stay away from Brock,” I whispered. Maybe, somehow, he was trying to warn me. Maybe I was grasping at something that could never be. But I honestly didn’t think so. Somewhere, deep down, I had to believe my father loved me. In his own way, maybe he even tried to warn me.
“So, you think they had something to do with his death?”
“Yes,” I said, without hesitation. My father died in the early afternoon before my house burned. Which meant that it could have been either Brock or Anita. I gripped the papers tighter. “Now, it’s time to prove it.” Because, like Harper said, this is one hell of a motive and enough to at least haul both of their VanBuren asses in for questioning again.
“I’ll bring the car around back,” Harper said and rushed out. I stood for a moment, looking at the papers and not caring about the money. What struck me was that my father cared. On some level, he’d thought of me. And it was the last sliver of goodness and despair that coursed through my veins. I wouldn’t let Brock or Anita get away with hurting another Case. I wouldn’t let them take everything my father built for themselves while torturing me the whole time.
This ended now.
Chapter 23
Shoving the documents into the front of my jacket, I hugged them close and stood on my toes, looking down the alley. No sign of Harper yet. We’d parked a bazillion miles away this morning, since there’d been no spots nearby.
The sky was graying with a snow cloud moving in front of the sun. The alley was bleak and dark, and there was a good reason I hated this side of the city. I wanted to call Jack and tell him everything. Wanted to hug Cal and listen to him reassure me.
I could do neither.
I was alone. Standing in the cold with the memory of my father and, hopefully, the end to the VanBurens in my life.
“Did you have an eventful trip?” a nasty feminine voice rang out.
“Anita?”
She rounded the corner and walked toward me, her black designer trench coat tied around her waist and her heels clicking on the pavement. I’d never seen a more evil look in anyone’s eye. But I wasn’t backing down. Not now. Not ever again.
“You disgust me,” I told her, and held tight to the papers under my jacket. “You killed my father, didn’t you? And for what? Money?”
She scoffed. “A lot of money.” She took another step. “And no, I didn’t kill him.” The way she smiled after saying that left little faith in her words. “But, you’re going to hand me those papers right now.”
