Chapter 6
The afternoon rain beat a steady, melancholy rhythm against the tall glass windows of the Vance estate conservatory. Exotic orchids and ferns filled the humid room with the rich, earthy scent of damp soil and blooming petals. Julian stood among the greenery, watching through the glass as a black sedan pulled up the gravel driveway. A man in a sharp charcoal suit stepped out, holding a black umbrella against the downpour.
It was Detective Miller, a retired investigator from the county sheriff’s department who had handled Catherine’s missing persons case three decades ago. Julian had called him in secret, needing an objective perspective on the paper trail Maya had suddenly brought to light.
The heavy glass door slid open, and Miller stepped inside, shaking the rain from his umbrella before folding it neatly. He looked older now, with deep lines around his eyes and silver hair, but his posture remained sharp and observant.
"Julian," Miller said, extending a weathered hand. "It’s been a long time. Last time I saw you, you were running around this greenhouse in short pants."
"Times change, Detective," Julian replied, shaking his hand firmly. "And old cases seem to have a habit of refusing to stay buried. I take it you received the documents I sent over?"
Miller’s expression grew serious as he pulled a worn leather notebook from his inside pocket. "I did. And frankly, I’m surprised you’re looking into this. Your aunt has spent thirty years making sure nobody whispered Catherine’s name in this house."
"Aunt Eleanor is protecting a legacy that might be built on a foundation of lies," Julian said quietly, stepping closer to the older investigator. "I need to know what really happened the night Catherine disappeared. The police report concluded it was an accidental drowning, but the file was suspiciously thin for a high-profile disappearance."
Miller let out a long, weary sigh, looking out at the gray waters of the lake through the conservatory glass. "It was thin because the pressure from your grandfather was absolute. We never found a body, Julian. Not a shred of clothing, not a shoe, nothing. Just an overturned sailboat drifting near the north shore."
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"And the financial records?" Julian pressed. "Did anyone trace where Catherine’s trust assets went the morning after she vanished?"
"They went straight into a holding corporation managed by your grandfather," Miller said, looking directly into Julian’s eyes. "A corporation that Eleanor currently controls. If Maya has proof of that transfer, it’s not just a civil probate dispute. It’s grand larceny and fraud."
