Claire sat at a kitchen table.
“I need answers.”
Elijah nodded.
“You deserve them.”
He pulled an old envelope from inside his jacket.
Claire looked at it.
“What is that?”
“A letter.”
“To whom?”
“You.”
She opened it.
The handwriting was unfamiliar.
She read silently.
Then she looked up.
“My father wrote this.”
Daniel stared.
“What does it say?”
Claire's hands trembled.
“It says he knew about the transfers.”
Elijah closed his eyes.
Claire continued.
“He says he didn't create them.”
Daniel said,
“Keep reading.”
“He says someone inside the bank was stealing customer information.”
Claire's voice cracked.
“He says he tried to stop them.”
Elijah looked at her.
“And?”
“He says he failed.”
Silence.
Claire turned the page.
Then her expression changed.
“What?”
She stared at the final paragraph.
“He says…”
“What?”
“He says Elijah Brooks is the only person he trusted outside the bank.”
Everyone became silent.
Elijah slowly looked up.
“What?”
Claire handed him the letter.
He read it.
His eyes filled with tears.
“I never knew.”
Daniel looked at him.
“What does it say?”
Elijah swallowed.
“It says my account was selected because I had been helping families in town.”
Claire frowned.
“How?”
“People came to me when they couldn't pay bills.”
He looked at her.
“I gave them money.”
Claire understood.
“You were moving money to people who needed it.”
“Yes.”
“But where did the money come from?”
“Donations.”
Claire shook her head.
“Some of those donations may have been connected to the stolen accounts.”
Elijah stared at her.
“No.”
“Your father may have been using your account to identify where the stolen money was going.”
Elijah sat down.
“He trusted me.”
“He may have been trying to protect you.”
Elijah covered his face.
For the first time, Claire saw him break.
Not because he was afraid.
Because he had spent years wondering why strange money kept appearing in his account.
Now he knew.
He had unknowingly been part of an investigation.
And someone had known.
Daniel opened another drawer.
Inside was a file.
“What's that?”
“Elijah gave this to me years ago.”
Claire opened it.
Inside were names.
Dates.
Bank accounts.
Transfers.
And photographs.
Claire stared at one photograph.
A man in a gray suit.
The same man from the diner.
“He's the one.”
Daniel nodded.
“His name is Victor Hale.”
Claire read the file.
“He worked for the bank.”
“Yes.”
“Your father knew him?”
“Yes.”
“Then why didn't he report him?”
“He did.”
“Then why is he still free?”
Daniel looked at her.
“Because someone protected him.”
Claire turned the page.
There was another photograph.
A woman.
Claire recognized her.
“My father's assistant.”
Elijah nodded.
“She was involved.”
Claire's stomach turned.
Then she saw another photograph.
A man standing beside Victor.
She knew him too.
Her father's business partner.
“It's everyone,” she whispered.
“No,” Elijah said.
“Not everyone.”
He pointed at the final page.
“There.”
Claire looked.
A single name was highlighted.
She read it.
Her father's name.
Claire dropped the file.
“No.”
Daniel picked it up.
Elijah looked away.
Claire stood.
“My father isn't part of this.”
Nobody answered.
“My father isn't.”
Daniel approached her.
“Claire.”
“No.”
She shook her head.
“He would never.”
Elijah said quietly,
“Sometimes people become prisoners of things they once thought they could control.”
Claire looked at him.
“What does that mean?”
“He may have started by trying to stop them.”
“And then?”
“They found something he loved.”
Claire's eyes filled with tears.
“Me.”
Elijah nodded.
“They threatened you.”
She closed her eyes.
Suddenly she remembered something.
A childhood memory.
Her father coming home late.
A bruise on his hand.
She had asked what happened.
He told her he had fallen.
She had believed him.
Then another memory.
A stranger sitting in his office.