Chapter 10 - Sins of the Father
By one o’clock, the Whitmore estate looked like a fortress under siege.
Two more police cruisers and an unmarked detective vehicle were parked along the circular driveway. The neighbors across the street were peeking through their blinds, taking photos with their smartphones. The christening party was dead, replaced by the clinical, ruthless reality of a criminal investigation.
Richard was placed in the back of the second patrol car, his head hanging low as the doors slammed shut. He was going to federal court on embezzlement and fraud charges, and state charges for filing false police reports.
Lorraine was seated in the back of another vehicle, clutching her designer handbag like a life raft, her makeup smeared across her wrinkled cheeks, completely alone.
Evan stood in the center of the lawn, staring at the grand, brick colonial house he had grown up in. A house built on pretense, funded by stolen money, and preserved by lies.
“Evan,” I said, walking up beside him.
He didn’t look at me right away. When he finally did, his eyes were bloodshot, filled with deep, soul-crushing humiliation.
“I’m so ashamed, Nat,” he whispered. “All those times Lorraine made comments about your clothes... about Samuel’s pickup truck... about where you grew up. And I didn't stop her hard enough. I thought she was just old-fashioned and snobbish. I didn't know they were... they were monsters.”
Dad walked over, carrying Caleb’s diaper bag. He set it down on the hood of his old Ford F-150, which sat proudly next to the police cars.
“Son,” Dad said, his voice firm and grounding, like an oak beam holding up a roof. “You didn't choose your parents. But you chose Natalie. And you chose to be this boy’s father. That’s the only family that defines who you are now.”
Evan looked at my dad—the man his parents had tried to send to a state penitentiary three hours earlier—and pulled him into a fierce, desperate embrace. Dad patted his back with his heavy, carpenter’s hand.
“Thank you, Samuel,” Evan choked out. “I swear to you, I will spend the rest of my life making this right.”
“You don't need to make anything right with me, son,” Dad smiled softly. “Just take care of my girl.”
Detective Miller, a senior investigator in a gray suit, walked out of the front entrance of the house, holding an evidence bag containing Richard’s computer hard drives and financial ledgers.
“Mr. and Mrs. Whitmore,” Detective Miller called out, waving us over.
Evan and I walked up to the porch steps, Dad following close behind with Caleb safely in his arms.
“We’ve secured the office safe,” Detective Miller said, wiping his brow. “We found the records of the loan sharks. Our task force already has a wiretap on that crew; you don’t need to worry about them coming to your home. We’re picking them up across town right now.”
A massive wave of relief washed over me. I let out a breath I felt like I had been holding for years.
May you like
“Thank you, Detective,” I said.
“However,” Detective Miller continued, his expression darkening, becoming suddenly tense and guarded. “While we were drilling the secondary floorboard vault in your father-in-law’s private study... we found something else.”
