Chapter 6 - STOLEN DREAMS
The iron poker suddenly felt ten times heavier in my hand.
“Dad stole from Marcus Thorne?” I asked, the words tasting like ash in my mouth.
David finally pushed past me, his boots heavy on the hardwood floor. He walked into the living room. Melissa backed away, pulling Leo behind her legs.
“Hello, Diane,” David said gently to my mother.
Mom couldn’t speak. She just nodded, her eyes wide with fear.
David turned back to me. “Twenty years ago, Thorne was buying up this neighborhood. He was using dirty money to do it. Extorting local businesses, running illegal bookies. Your father found out where Thorne kept his ledger—and a duffel bag of his working capital.”
“Dad was a mechanic,” I said, my voice cracking. “He wasn’t a thief.”
“He was desperate,” David corrected. “I was in prison, getting beaten half to death every week. Thorne was threatening to take this house. Your father took the money to save us both.”
“Then why didn’t he pay off the mortgage?” Melissa yelled. “Why did we grow up wearing thrift store clothes while Mom worked two jobs?”
“Because Thorne knew someone took it,” David said. “If your father suddenly paid off the house in cash, Thorne would have killed him. He had to hide it. He put it in the First National lockbox. He paid my protection money in small pieces, using pawned jewelry to cover his tracks.”
I looked at the silver key in my hand. The key to salvation. The key to our destruction.
“So Thorne doesn’t know Dad took it,” I said.
“No,” David said. “Thorne thinks I took it before I went away. That’s why he’s been squeezing your sister. He knew Melissa was desperate for Leo’s bills. He manipulated her into using the house as collateral, hoping it would flush me out. He wants his money back, Claire.”
I looked at Melissa. Her face was buried in her hands, her shoulders shaking with silent sobs. She hadn’t just made a foolish financial mistake. She had walked right into a trap set for our family twenty years ago.
“Why are you telling us this now?” I asked David. “Why come back?”
“Because I have stage four lung cancer,” David said flatly. “I have maybe two months left. I don’t need the money. But Thorne is closing in. Once he gets the house, he’ll tear it down, and you’ll have nothing.”
He walked over to Mom’s chair and gently placed my old childhood drawing on the table beside her blue notebook.
“Go to the bank tomorrow morning,” David said. “Take the cash. Pay Thorne his fake debt to clear the house. Keep the rest.”
“If we pay him in cash, won’t he know it was Dad who stole it?” I asked.
David smiled, a cold, hard look in his eyes.
“That’s why you’re going to tell Thorne that I gave you the money. Let him come after me. I’m a dead man anyway.”
It was the perfect plan. It would save the house, save Melissa, and clear Dad’s name.
But as David turned to leave, Leo stepped out from behind Melissa’s legs.
He walked up to David and pointed at his trench coat.
“Why do you have my daddy’s watch?” Leo asked.
David froze.
Melissa stopped crying and stared at her son. “Leo, what are you talking about? Your dad moved to California three years ago.”
“I saw it,” Leo insisted, pointing at David’s pocket. “It has the scratch on the glass. The one Daddy got when he fell off his bike.”
David’s hand slowly moved to cover his pocket.
May you like
I stepped between David and the door, raising the iron poker.
“Empty your pockets, David,” I said.
