Samantha reached for my hand.
“Victoria?”
“His accident,” I whispered. “The police said he lost control on the highway.”
“Yes.”
“He was driving to Rochester that morning.”
“Yes.”
“To meet an auditor?”
Samantha slowly nodded.
“He had arranged a meeting about the missing funds.”
My heart began pounding.
“Did my father know?”
Samantha’s silence was answer enough.
I gripped the bedsheet.
“Was Lucas murdered?”
“We don’t know,” she replied. “And I don’t want you drawing conclusions without evidence.”
But she took the recording seriously.
She had already forwarded relevant financial records to investigators.
The highway accident, she explained, could be reexamined.
I looked toward the window.
Rain streaked the glass.
Three weeks earlier, I had buried the person I loved most.
Now I was beginning to wonder whether the people who had come to his funeral had known more about his death than they admitted.
Chapter 5: The Daughter Who Arrived Early
