Chapter 4 - The Car at the Bus Station
Thomas had seen Vale driving his Buick at 2:17 a.m.
Why did he not tell police?
Because Vale threatened him.
Simple.
Cowardly.
Devastating.
“He said Robert had stolen parish funds,” Thomas explained.
“He said if I told police about car, he would say I helped.”
“Would anyone believe him?” Sarah asked.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Thomas looked toward ledger.
“My initials.”
Michael folded arms.
“We’re back to that.”
Thomas explained.
Restoration fund required two signatures for disbursements.
Vale controlled committee.
Thomas authorized several transfers believing they paid contractors.
They did not.
His initials in Robert’s ledger marked approvals.
Not stolen money.
Negligent approvals.
“Did you check invoices?”
“Not closely.”
“How much?”
“Nearly nine hundred thousand went through payments I signed.”
Michael stared.
“You signed nine hundred thousand dollars without checking?”
“Across eighteen months.”
“That is not better.”
“No.”
Thomas looked toward altar.
“I believed Charles because he had served parish twenty years.”
Trust again.
Blind trust.
Sarah asked:
“When Dad showed you fraud, why didn’t you go police?”
“I said I needed time.”
“How much?”
“One day.”
“And he disappeared that night.”
“Yes.”
Michael laughed bitterly.
“So you took twenty-two years.”
Thomas accepted it.
“Yes.”
Peter paced.
“Vale used all of us.”
Michael turned.
“Don’t.”
“What?”
“You took money.”
Peter stopped.
“You are not same as Thomas.”
“No.”
Peter looked ashamed.
“I know.”
Sarah asked:
“Did Mom know?”
Peter’s face changed.
Michael saw.
“Oh God.”
“Peter.”
Sarah’s voice became sharp.
“Did Mom know?”
“Not everything.”
“What?”
“She knew Robert found financial misconduct.”
“After he disappeared?”
“Yes.”
“Who told her?”
“I did.”
“What did you tell her?”
Peter whispered:
“That Robert may have fled because he was involved.”
Sarah stepped backward.
“You made her believe Dad stole.”
“I was trying to—”
“Protect her?”
Peter stopped.
The word had become poisonous.
“I was trying to keep Vale away.”
Michael laughed.
“And preserve yourself.”
“Yes.”
At least he admitted.
Sarah’s eyes filled.
“Mom defended you.”
“I know.”
“You paid our tuition.”
“Yes.”
“With what money?”
Peter went pale.
Michael stared.
“No.”
Peter looked down.
Sarah whispered:
“Our college money?”
“Some came from my business.”
“Some?”
Peter’s voice broke.
“Some came from payments I received through Vale.”
Michael walked away before he hit him.
Rain continued outside.
Thomas said:
“We need to take ledger to authorities.”
Michael turned.
“Now?”
“Yes.”
“Twenty-two years late.”
“Yes.”
Peter shook head.
“Statutes may have run.”
“Some.”
“Vale is dead.”
“Shell companies remain.”
Peter laughed.
“You think this brings Robert back?”
Thomas answered:
“No.”
That silenced room.
Sarah picked up second cassette.
“Play it.”
Robert’s voice returned.
Tape dated next day?
Impossible.
October 15, 2004 — 1:32 a.m.
Recorded after he returned church.
“I am making this because I no longer trust anyone with whole truth.”
Michael closed eyes.
His father continued:
“Peter took money. Thomas signed transfers without asking enough questions. Vale created scheme.”
Then:
“I also committed fraud five years ago when I altered loan documents for our house. Elaine does not know. Michael and Sarah do not know.”
Sarah began crying quietly.
Robert’s voice:
“I told myself it was temporary. I told myself keeping house for family justified it. That is how Vale recognized me. He knew I had already taught myself one lie could protect people.”
Michael stared at Thomas.
Their father was describing same pattern as everyone else.
Then Robert said:
“If I leave tonight, it will not be because I want to abandon my family.”
Sarah squeezed Michael’s hand.
“But if I survive, I may not be able to come home immediately.”
Michael’s breathing changed.
The tape ended.
No explanation.
No destination.
Sarah whispered:
“He planned to hide.”
Thomas nodded.
“At least briefly.”
Michael looked at Peter.
“Maybe you were right.”
Peter looked surprised.
“Dad may have left.”
Thomas shook head.
“No.”
“What?”
“There is third tape.”
They played it.
Only fourteen seconds.
Robert breathing hard.
Vehicle noise.
Then:
“Thomas, if this reaches you, Vale found me.”
A crash.
Robert shouted:
“Get away from—”
Static.
Then a different voice.
Low.
Male.
Not Charles Vale.
Michael froze.
He knew voice.
Sarah did too.
The tape ended before name.
Michael stared at Peter.
Peter stared back.
“No.”
The voice on tape belonged to someone who had been part of their family for years.
Their mother’s longtime lawyer.
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Gerald Wynn.
The man who handled Robert Grant’s disappearance estate.
