Chapter 7 - The Black Bag
The search team returned to the mountain the following morning.
Aiden's description was vague, as anyone would expect from a frightened four-year-old.
He remembered a tree with a broken branch.
A flat stone.
And a black bag.
Ranger Daniel Brooks knew the trail well.
He helped investigators identify several possible locations.
By late afternoon, they found something.
A weatherproof black duffel bag buried beneath pine branches.
Inside were a spare phone, printed financial documents, a pair of muddy boots, and a small digital camera.
There was also an empty medication bottle.
Investigators immediately secured everything.
I was not told about most of the contents until weeks later.
But Rebecca came to my hospital room that evening with an expression I had learned to recognize.
Something important had happened.
“We recovered a memory card,” she said.
“From the camera?”
“Yes.”
“What was on it?”
“We're still examining the files.”
I watched her carefully.
“Rebecca, please.”
She pulled a chair closer.
“We found footage recorded along the hiking trail before your accident.”
My pulse quickened.
“Did it show Michael?”
“It showed part of the ridge.”
“Did it show me falling?”
She hesitated.
“Not clearly.”
I looked down.
Then Rebecca continued.
“But one recording appears to show someone disturbing the ground near the section that later collapsed.”
I stared at her.
“Who?”
“We're working to establish that.”
It was not the certainty I wanted.
But for the first time, there was physical evidence suggesting the fall might not have been an accident.
That evening, Charles called with more news.
The court had issued temporary orders preventing Michael from exercising disputed authority over the trust.
The financial institutions had restricted the questionable transactions pending investigation.
The money was not necessarily gone.
There was still a chance to protect it.
I should have felt relieved.
Instead, I thought about Aiden.
He was awake now.
He could eat small meals.
But whenever someone opened his hospital room door, he flinched.
One night he asked me a question I would never forget.
“Grandma, is Daddy mad because we didn't die?”
I knelt beside his bed.
“No, sweetheart. You didn't do anything wrong.”
He began crying.
“I want my daddy to be nice again.”
I wrapped my good arm around him.
“So do I.”
But in that moment, I understood something terrible.
I could protect Aiden from what his father had done.
I could not give him back the father he thought he had.
The following morning, Rebecca received an urgent call.
When she returned, her expression was grave.
“Margaret, Michael has disappeared.”
I stared at her.
“What do you mean?”
“He failed to appear for questioning. His phone is off. And his vehicle was found abandoned outside Denver.”
May you like
Then she said the words that made my stomach drop.
“We also have reason to believe he knows where Aiden is being treated.”
