ASK ABOUT YOUR GRANDFATHER’S FINAL WILL.
I stared at the message.
My grandfather Harold had died twelve years earlier.
According to my parents, he had left behind little more than medical debt, an old watch, and the house they already lived in.
There had never been a family reading of the will.
No lawyer had contacted me.
No one had ever mentioned Samuel Grayson.
“My grandfather’s estate was settled years ago,” I said.
Detective Beckett studied the card.
“Are you sure?”
“That’s what my parents told me.”
Wyatt pulled out his phone.
“I’m calling the attorney.”
“It’s after midnight,” the detective said.
“I don’t care.”
The number on the card rang twice.
Then a man answered.
“Grayson.”
“My name is Wyatt Cole. I’m calling on behalf of Sadie Davis, granddaughter of Harold Davis.”
Silence followed.
Then the man’s voice became guarded.
“Where did you get this number?”
“Someone delivered your card to Sadie at the hospital.”
Another long silence.
“Is she safe?”
The question made everyone in the room still.
“For the moment,” Wyatt answered.
“Put me on speaker.”
Wyatt did.
Mr. Grayson spoke carefully.
