PART 7 — WHY SHERRY NEEDED PAIGE
“This is the day I learned why Sherry needed Paige.”
I read Leon’s sentence again.
Then I looked at the photograph.
Paige couldn’t have been older than sixteen.
She was sitting stiffly between Sherry and Frank, her hands folded in her lap.
Leon sat across from them.
He wasn’t smiling.
Neither was Paige.
Toby stared at the picture.
“What does ‘needed Paige’ mean?”
Nobody answered.
Martin Hale slowly reached for the red ledger.
“Let me see the entries around this date.”
He flipped back several pages.
Then forward.
His finger stopped.
“There.”
Raymond leaned closer.
A payment had been recorded three days before the photograph.
$28,000.
Recipient:
Northline Family Holdings.
Authorization:
P.L.
Paige Lamb.
Toby shook his head immediately.
“She was sixteen.”
“Yes,” Martin said.
“She couldn’t legally authorize that.”
“Exactly.”
My stomach tightened.
I looked at the word Leon had written beside Paige’s initials.
IDENTITY.
Raymond whispered, “He thought someone was using her identity.”
Toby’s face changed.
“Sherry?”
Raymond didn’t answer.
Martin did.
“That would be my first question.”
Toby stood so quickly his chair scraped across the floor.
“No.”
I looked at him.
“What?”
“If Sherry used Paige’s name when she was a child, Paige may not even know.”
His voice was shaking now.
“She may have accounts, companies, debts—anything—in her name.”
Raymond nodded.
“That possibility needs to be checked.”
Toby pulled out his phone.
“I’m calling her.”
Martin raised a hand.
“Wait.”
Toby glared at him.
“Why?”
“Because there may be more in this box that changes what you ask.”
Toby wanted to argue.
I could see it.
But then he looked at the red ledger and slowly sat down again.
Martin turned another page.
More entries appeared under P.L.
$11,500.
$7,200.
$19,000.
$6,400.
All before Paige turned eighteen.
My skin crawled.
“How much?”
Martin began adding.
Toby watched the calculator.
When Martin stopped, the total was $86,700.
Toby whispered, “In her name?”
“Apparently.”
Raymond looked at the dates.
“These weren’t withdrawals from Paige’s account.”
“Then what were they?”
Martin tapped one column.
“They appear to be payments made using entities registered under her identity.”
Toby stared.
“Companies?”
“Possibly.”
“How many?”
Martin studied the abbreviations.
“At least four.”
I felt anger rise inside me.
Paige had spent years believing her mother controlled her because Sherry was overprotective.
What if the truth was worse?
What if Sherry had kept Paige close because Paige’s name was useful?
Raymond lifted another photograph.
This one showed the same restaurant.
Sherry and Frank stood near the entrance.
Leon was talking to Paige alone at the table.
On the back Leon had written:
“Asked her if she knew what PL Holdings was. She said no.”
Toby closed his eyes.
“There it is.”
Martin nodded.
“Leon questioned her directly.”
“And she didn’t know.”
“No.”
I looked at another photo.
Leon had photographed a folder sitting beside Sherry’s purse.
The label read:
PAIGE LAMB — SIGNATURE FORMS.
A chill went through me.
“Why would Leon photograph that?”
Martin answered.
“Because he was collecting evidence.”
Raymond turned toward me.
“Do you remember Leon acting differently around this time?”
I tried.
Twenty-one years ago.
Toby was nineteen then.
Leon was working constantly.
Our marriage had been solid, but he had become quiet.
Distracted.
I remembered waking at two in the morning and finding him sitting at the kitchen table.
Not working.
Just staring at papers.
I had asked him what was wrong.
He said:
“Some people can smile at you while they’re taking pieces out of your house.”
At the time, I thought he was talking about business.
Now I wasn’t sure.
“Yes,” I whispered.
“He was worried.”
“About Frank?”
“Maybe.”
I looked down.
“He stopped inviting Frank over as much.”
Toby frowned.
“I remember that.”
“You do?”
“Yeah.”
He stared at the photograph.
“I thought Dad and Frank had a fight.”
Martin nodded.
“They did.”
“How do you know?”
Martin reached inside the safe deposit box and picked up one of the cassette tapes.
A small white label had been stuck across the front.
FRANK — OFFICE.
Toby stared.
“Dad recorded him?”
Martin looked at me.
“Did Leon ever record business meetings?”
“Not normally.”
Raymond examined the tape.
“There’s another label underneath.”
He turned it toward us.
One date.
Six weeks before Leon died.
Toby whispered, “Can we play it?”
The bank didn’t have a cassette player.
Of course it didn’t.
But Martin did.
He smiled sadly.
“I’m old enough to still own one.”
Forty minutes later, we were sitting in Martin’s office.
The cassette player rested in the center of his conference table.
The red ledger sat beside it.
Martin pressed play.
Static filled the room.
Then Leon’s voice.
My husband.
Alive again for one impossible moment.
“You told me Northline was a legitimate vendor.”
Frank answered.
“It was.”
“Then why is it registered using Paige Lamb’s identity?”
Silence.
My heart slammed against my ribs.
Frank finally said, “You’re digging into something you don’t understand.”
Leon replied, “Then explain it.”
“You need to leave this alone.”
“I’m missing almost a hundred thousand dollars.”
“You’re not missing anything.”
“I have the statements.”
“You have pieces.”
“I have invoices.”
“Leon.”
“I have forged approvals.”
The tape went quiet.
Then Frank spoke more softly.
“You want advice from a friend?”
Leon replied, “Right now I’m trying to decide whether I still have one.”
Nobody in Martin’s office moved.
Frank sighed.
“You have a wife. A son. A business. Walk away from this.”
Leon’s voice hardened.
“Was that a threat?”
“No.”
“It sounded like one.”
“It was advice.”
“Where is the money?”
Silence.
“Frank.”
Nothing.
“Where is it?”
Then Frank said something that made Toby grip the edge of the table.
“It isn’t about the money anymore.”
Leon replied, “Then what is it about?”
Another silence.
Frank whispered, “Paige.”
The tape clicked.
Then continued.
Leon sounded confused.
“She’s a child.”
“Exactly.”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“You shouldn’t have talked to her.”
“I asked if she knew a company was registered in her name.”
“And now Sherry knows you asked.”
Leon gave a bitter laugh.
“So?”
“So she’s scared.”
“Good.”
“You don’t understand her.”
“I understand enough.”
“No, you don’t.”
Then Leon said, “How long have you been helping her?”
Frank didn’t answer.
“Before she married Lamb?”
Silence.
“Before she met him?”
Still nothing.
Leon’s voice dropped.
“Was Paige always part of this?”
Frank finally spoke.
“You need to stop saying her name.”
Toby paused the tape.
His face had gone white.
“What does that mean?”
Nobody knew.
He pressed play again.
Leon said, “Did Sherry use Paige’s name because nobody would question accounts belonging to her own daughter?”
Frank answered, “You’re making assumptions.”
“Then correct me.”
Nothing.
“Did she?”
Frank breathed out slowly.
“You think this started with fake invoices.”
“What started?”
“You don’t know enough.”
“Then tell me.”
“I can’t.”
“You mean you won’t.”
“Same result.”
Leon’s chair scraped.
“I’m going to the police.”
That sentence froze all of us.
Frank immediately said, “Don’t.”
“Why?”
“Because you don’t know who else is involved.”
Leon went silent.
Then:
“Who?”
Frank didn’t answer.
“Who else is involved, Frank?”
Static.
Then Frank whispered something too quietly to understand.
Martin rewound it.
Played it again.
Still unclear.
Raymond leaned closer.
“One more time.”
Martin increased the volume.
Frank’s words finally came through.
“She has someone at the bank.”
Toby looked at Raymond.
“That explains the account access.”
“Maybe.”
Leon asked, “Who?”
Frank said, “I don’t know the name.”
“You expect me to believe that?”
“I never met them.”
“But Sherry did.”
Silence.
Leon continued.
“And Paige?”
Frank’s voice changed.
“She doesn’t know anything.”
That sentence hit Toby hard.
He leaned back.
“Thank God.”
But the tape wasn’t over.
Leon asked, “Then why is her identity all over the records?”
Frank answered:
“Because Sherry said nobody investigates a teenage girl.”
I closed my eyes.
There it was.
Paige had been a shield.
A name.
A clean identity used to hide dirty money.
Toby looked sick.
Martin paused the tape.
Raymond said quietly, “This is important evidence.”
Toby stood.
“Now I’m calling Paige.”
Nobody stopped him.
She answered immediately.
“Toby?”
Her voice sounded exhausted.
“Are you okay?”
“No.”
“What happened?”
“We found records.”
Silence.
“What records?”
“Companies in your name.”
“What?”
“From when you were a teenager.”
Paige laughed nervously.
“That’s impossible.”
“There are four that we know of.”
Silence.
Then she said, “Toby, I never owned a company.”
“I know.”
“What names?”
He read them.
Northline Family Holdings.
PL Financial Services.
Harbor Youth Trust.
Lamb Administrative Partners.
Paige went silent after the third.
Toby noticed.
“What?”
Nothing.
“Paige.”
Her voice became tiny.
“Harbor Youth Trust.”
“What about it?”
“I’ve seen that name.”
Everybody in the room looked at Toby.
“Where?”
“At Mom’s house.”
“When?”
“Years ago.”
“What was it?”
“A folder.”
Toby put the phone on speaker.
Paige continued.
“I was maybe seventeen. I went into her office looking for my passport.”
“What happened?”
“I found a drawer full of files.”
Her breathing became uneven.
“One had my name on it.”
“Did you open it?”
“Yes.”
“What was inside?”
“Bank forms.”
Toby sat down.
“What kind?”
“I don’t remember.”
“Think.”
“I’m trying.”
We waited.
Then Paige whispered, “There were signature cards.”
My stomach dropped.
“Whose signatures?” Toby asked.
“Mine.”
Toby stared at the table.
“But you didn’t sign them?”
“No.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
“How?”
Paige started crying.
“Because I confronted her.”
Everybody froze.
“You confronted Sherry?”
“Yes.”
“What did she say?”
“She told me Dad had created accounts for college and investments.”
Raymond frowned.
“Your father?”
“Yes.”
“She said the signatures had been copied onto forms because I was too young to understand the paperwork.”
Toby closed his eyes.
“Oh God.”
Paige continued.
“I believed her.”
“Of course you did.”
“She was my mother.”
Toby whispered, “Paige, this isn’t your fault.”
Then her voice changed.
“There was something else.”
“What?”
“One of the folders wasn’t mine.”
Toby looked up.
“Whose?”
Paige hesitated.
“Frank Delaney.”
Silence.
“What was inside?”
“I only remember one thing.”
“What?”
“A life insurance policy.”
I felt cold.
“On Frank?”
“No.”
Paige’s voice shook.
“It was on Leon.”
Nobody moved.
I couldn’t breathe.
Toby whispered, “My dad?”
“Yes.”
“And Frank’s name was on the folder?”
“Yes.”
I stood.
The chair nearly fell backward.
Raymond immediately said, “Bill, that does not mean Frank owned the policy.”
“I know.”
But my hands were shaking.
Toby asked, “Paige, did you see who the beneficiary was?”
“No.”
“Did you see an amount?”
Another pause.
“Yes.”
“How much?”
“Five hundred thousand dollars.”
My heart stopped.
Leon had life insurance.
But not for five hundred thousand.
At least not any policy I knew about.
Raymond asked, “Paige, do you remember the insurance company?”
“I think so.”
She gave us the name.
Martin immediately turned to his computer.
He began searching through the scanned files Leon had left with him.
Two minutes later, he stopped typing.
His face changed.
“I found something.”
“What?”
“A reference to the same insurer.”
He opened an old investigative worksheet.
Leon had written:
“Unknown policy. I never applied. Signature appears copied.”
Toby stared at me.
My knees weakened.
Raymond read the next line.
“Policy issued fourteen months before Leon’s death.”
Nobody spoke.
Then Martin scrolled lower.
There was one final note.
“Beneficiary changed ninety days before death.”
My mouth went dry.
“To who?”
Martin clicked open the attached scan.
The beneficiary wasn’t me.
It wasn’t Toby.
It wasn’t even Frank.
The policy listed a company.
Northline Family Holdings.
The company registered using sixteen-year-old Paige Lamb’s identity.
Toby stood frozen.
“That means Sherry’s company collected Dad’s life insurance.”
Raymond corrected him.
“We don’t know who controlled the company at the time.”
But I was already staring at the dates.
Something bothered me.
Leon died from a heart attack.
Sudden.
Unexpected.
At home.
I had accepted that for eight years.
I had never questioned it.
And I wasn’t going to invent answers now.
But for the first time, I had questions.
Very serious questions.
Then Martin opened one last scanned note.
Leon had written it two days before his death.
Just six words.
“Policy confirmed. Meeting Frank Monday. Police Tuesday.”
Leon died Sunday night.
Toby looked at me.
“Dad never made it to Monday.”
No.
He didn’t.
And before any of us could say another word, Raymond’s phone rang.
He looked at the screen.
Unknown number.
He answered.
“Raymond Cole.”
Silence.
His expression changed.
“Who is this?”
More silence.
Then a man’s voice came through the speaker.
Old.
Tired.
Familiar.
“Put Bill on the phone.”
My entire body went cold.
I knew that voice.
Frank Delaney.
Raymond looked at me.
Frank continued.
“I know you found Leon’s box.”
Nobody breathed.
Then he said:
“Before you decide I killed your husband, Bill, you need to know who was inside your house the night Leon died.”
