“But why?” Mia asked. “What could’ve made them feel like running was the only option?”
“They were planning something.”
“There has to be more.” Rebecca stood and turned to Grace. “Show us exactly where you found this.”
So we went down to the basement. Soon, we were all searching through the old boxes and junk.
It felt like hours had passed when Jonah called out, “Grandma?”
He was standing near the far wall, holding a folder.
I took it from him and opened it under the bare pull-chain light.
A chill ran down my spine.
“This is it. This is why they wanted to run.”
“There has to be more.”
The folder was full of bills, statements, and final notices. I had gone through everything after they died — or at least everything I had access to.
None of this had been there. My son must’ve tried to bury it before they ran.
“They were in trouble,” I said.
At the back of the folder was one handwritten sheet on lined paper.
A bank account number and routing information.
And beneath it, in Laura’s neat writing: Don’t touch anything else.
Aaron, who’d been looking at the documents over my shoulder, pointed at the page. “Does that mean there’s more money?”
“Only one way to find out,” I replied.
“They were in trouble.”
The next morning, I went to the bank by myself.
“I’m here about my son,” I told the woman behind the desk. “He passed away ten years ago, but I recently found this account number in some of his things. I just need to understand what it was.”
I placed a copy of Daniel’s death certificate and gave her the account number.
She nodded and typed it in. Then she frowned at the screen.
“Ma’am, are you sure that’s the correct number? Our records show this account is still active.”
I blinked. “I’m sorry — what does that mean?”
“It means there’s been recent activity.”
