by Tara Ellis
“At the time, I was too naïve to do the right thing. I still wanted to believe that he was my friend, so I confronted him about it and gave him a chance to confess and make things right. He pretended to be apologetic and was eager to make amends. He promised to return the money and fix everything. I gave him a week.
“What he proceeded to do was destroy all evidence of his ever being involved. He then came here to our house, spread out all the documents, and explained to us how our only chance to save the business, our home, our charities and the financial welfare of our friends, was for me to fake my death. I’m ashamed to admit it, but I was distraught. I saw myself as a failure at everything and I simply didn’t know what else to do. I had no proof to go to anyone with. He was a highly respected man in the community. A rising star.”
“We did try,” Grace nearly whispers. Looking down at her hands, she wrings them nervously. “He’s a dangerous man who’ll stop at nothing to get what he wants. Ben stumbled upon some shady dealings that involved other politicians.” Shuddering, Grace shifts closer to the fire. “When we at first refused to do what he asked, and threatened to expose him, he … well, he implied that Benny would disappear. It was up to us whether we were a part of the plan or not.”
“I was a coward.” Ben shakes his head and looks dejectedly at the group. “I was scared of what would happen to Grace. I didn’t know what else to do.”
“You were forced to do it!” Ally cries, feeling awful for the older couple. “He practically threatened to kill you if you didn’t!”
“But I took the life insurance money, the bailout money from Kingsman, and played along with it,” Grace confesses. “How is that going to look to the police? Without any proof, all of this will come back to us as insurance fraud. They’ll never bring charges against that man.”
“We found some recent articles about him,” Cassy says, her brown eyes sparkling in the firelight. “You wouldn’t be the first to claim that he’s less than honest.”
“And what about your invention?” Sam asks. “Did you know that he’s been selling it as his own for years now?”
“Yes, I know.” Hanging his head, the topic is clearly painful for Ben. “He stole that from me, too. He lied, and never really submitted it for me. A year after my disappearance, he claimed it as his own creation, patented it, and is now making millions. Gregory formed a separate business for the wood product, and now sells it through various channels. Of course, he destroyed any evidence that it was mine long ago. The only papers here at the house are my original hand drawings, and those don’t prove anything.”
“What about your boat?” Sam asks, her voice eager. “If you could show that wreck from six years ago, wouldn’t that be enough to prove you made the product before Kingsman even trademarked it?”
Benjamin Potts stares thoughtfully at the young lady seated before him for a full minute before shaking his head ruefully. “Perhaps, Sam. It certainly wouldn’t hurt our case, but I doubt it would be enough. No,” he says with more surety. “The time to go to the authorities is long overdue.”
“Plus, Benny needs medical care,” Grace explains. Her husband scowls, but it doesn’t silence her. “His health has been rapidly failing this past year. We suspect he has something wrong with his heart. I’ve been doing what I can to get our affairs in order. It’s likely I’ll be sentenced to some jail time, and I’m doing my best to protect the charities if that happens. I have the bank documents for the afterschool program, since that’s still in my name, but Kingsman has forbid me from being directly involved. I can only see the money coming in and going out, so I have no way of knowing what he’s really done with the funds. If I can figure that out, and get the other bank accounts signed over to the appropriate board members, we’ll be more than ready to end this charade.”
“How much time do you need to finish those things?” Ally asks.
“No more than a week,” Grace answers. “But like I already said, having you involved in our secret is not acceptable.”
“Grace, we’ve suspected it for several days. You’ve been doing this for six years. A few more days isn’t going to make a difference.” Sam hopes that she’ll agree, but then realizes Mrs. Potts isn’t the only one that needs convincing. Looking across the table, she meets John’s stare and to her relief, he gives her a small, affirming nod. Hunter looks indifferent to it all, and is working on what’s probably his fifth cookie.
“I don’t know.” It’s clear that their host is wavering, looking at her husband, and then back at Sam.
The clock over the mantle chimes, reminding them all that it’s eight o’clock at night. They need to leave soon. Sam already texted her mom that they were stopping by Mrs. Potts’ house before coming home, but it’s getting late.
“I guess it won’t hurt to wait until after the haunted house, so that your benefit isn’t ruined.” There’s a collective sigh of relief, but Grace is quick to add more conditions. “If your parents ask you anything, you tell them the truth! I won’t have anyone else lying for us. Do you understand?”
“Yes, ma’am,” John assures her. “We wouldn’t lie to them, anyways.”
They all say goodbye before Grace can change her mind, and as they walk back through the kitchen, Ally quietly links arms with Sam. It’s something they’ve done for years, and the motion calms her. Her jumbled up thoughts instantly fall into place, and she knows without a doubt that they have to find a way to prove that Gregory Kingsman is a fraud. And they have six days to do it.
11
EVIDENCE
“Hello, girls! Did your teacher give you my message? I didn’t realize you were going to come by so soon.”
Mrs. Trent, the afterschool program director, stands up from behind her desk as she’s talking, and motions for them to come inside the spacious office.
“Yes, Miss. Covington told us you have some raffle tickets we can sell for admission to the haunted house,” Sam replies, almost forgetting to use Lisa’s formal name.
“Thank you, Kim,” Mrs. Trent says, dismissing the teen still standing in the doorway, where she’s lingered after escorting the girls to the office.
“I have a whole roll of tickets left over from a craft fair,” she continues, refocusing on Sam. “Plus, when I was digging them out, I found a large inflatable spider and I instantly thought of you!”
“That would be perfect to hang at the entrance!” Cassy exclaims, clapping her hands together.
“Thanks, Mrs. Trent,” Ally says sincerely. “And we can come back later if you’re busy right now. We’re just excited to start selling advance tickets!”
Sam notices the stacks of papers set out on the director’s desk for the first time, surrounding a computer. There’s also a calculator with a long expanse of printed numbers streaming from it. Mrs. Trent is obviously in the middle of some serious accounting work. Based on the number of crumpled up pieces of paper littering the floor, it isn’t going very well.
“No, no, it’s fine,” she assures them, coming around and leaning back against the front of the messy desk. “I could use a break from all of this. I know that Kim shared our … situation with you. It falls on my shoulders to try to come up with a way to make the numbers work, but -” Shaking her head, the director seems to realize what she was about to say and thinks better of it. “Never mind all of that! I didn’t pull those items out of storage, but it won’t take me long to get them. You girls can wait here. I shouldn’t be longer than five or ten minutes.”
As Mrs. Trent walks briskly from the office, Sam and Ally exchange a knowing look. Cassy is the first to voice their fears.
“That didn’t sound good,” the young girl says softly. Kicking at one of the wadded up papers, it tumbles across the floor and bounces against Sam’s foot.
Reaching down, Sam picks it up without much thought, and smooths the paper out on her thigh. Bold letter across the top announce that It’s a memo from the office of Mr. Gregory Kingsman. Her brows furrowing together, Sam studies
the rest of the letter, and then in shock, reads it out loud for Ally and Cassy.
From: Gregory Kingsman
To: Director Susan Trent
Subject: Cease and Desist orders for the Ocean Side Afterschool Program
Dear Mrs. Trent:
It has come to my attention, that in spite of our detailed conversation this past Monday, on October 20th, you have continued to operate the Ocean Side Afterschool Program within its normal parameters.
Per our conversation, as well as the letter I presented to you, dated the same day, you are to immediately begin the process of terminating all extracurricular activities, and letting staff go. The end date of said program is the 28th of November, which gives you one month to reconcile all of the accounts, disburse the balances back to me, and send out notifications to the students.
I expect these orders to be followed post haste, or else I will be forced to replace you, per our discussion. I know it is important to you to see the closure through yourself, so I will expect your immediate compliance.
With best of wishes,
Gregory Kingsman
Sam continues to stare at the thick, expensive stationary. Looking again at the dates, she realizes that with the Potts’ revelation this coming weekend, the program won’t stand a chance. It’s already Thursday. While they’ve managed to finish the rest of the work on the haunted house, they haven’t heard anything from Mr. and Mrs. Potts.
It’s been easy to avoid having to tell their parents or Lisa about Benjamin, because it simply isn’t a topic that they would bring up on their own. He’s been considered dead for six years. Sam is still tempted to confess it all to her mom anyways, and she knows that her friends have similar thoughts. She figures her parents might be able to come up with a way of helping them, but the likelihood is that they’d just report it to the authorities instead.
Sighing with frustration, Sam wishes there were something more they could do. At the sound of more paper rustling, she looks up to find Cassy studying another one of the discarded documents.
“It looks like this must be the first letter he sent,” she says, handing it to Sam.
“This one is just a bunch of numbers,” Ally adds, holding another piece of paper. “But I don’t think we should be doing this,” she adds nervously, handing it off quickly to Sam.
Ally has a valid point, but an idea has begun to wiggle its way into Sam’s thoughts and she can’t shake it off. “Grace said that she has the bank statements for the funding for the program, but can’t prove what Kingsman is doing with the money, because she doesn’t have access to this,” she states, shaking the paper with all the numbers on it.
“It looks like Mrs. Trent is trying to figure out the balances of the various accounts, like Kingsman asked her to do,” Sam continues, standing now and moving over to the desk. “These might be exactly what Grace needs, to prove that Mr. Kingsman is stealing the money!”
“Give me your phone,” Cassy suddenly demands, coming to stand next to Sam.
Sam complies without question, pulling her smartphone from her back pocket. While Cassy has a cellphone, it’s a much older style without a touchscreen. She only went to live with Lisa Covington less than two months ago, and hasn’t upgraded yet.
Watching with growing astonishment, Ally realizes that Cassy is going to take pictures of the documents! “What are you doing?” she gasps, looking back fretfully at the open door. “Mrs. Trent could be back any minute!”
Crumpling the papers back up after Cassy snaps the picture; Sam tosses them onto the floor before looking at Ally. “This is the Potts’ program, not Kingsman’s!” she says urgently, pulling another promising looking paper from the top of a pile and handing it to Cassy. “Grace would come in here and do this herself, if it weren’t for that crook blackmailing her! We aren’t doing anything wrong,” she emphasizes, as much for own conscience as for Ally’s benefit.
Cassy takes three more pictures of what look to be the most important papers, and then also one of the file currently open on the monitor, before rushing back around the desk. Grabbing Sam’s arm as she goes, she drags her back to the empty chairs, and they sit down just as Mrs. Trent enters the room.
Sam was so absorbed, that she wasn’t listening for the telltale footsteps. Looking at Cassy thankfully, she hopes that Ally isn’t too mad. Glancing briefly at her best friend as Mrs. Trent approaches them, she’s relieved to see her turn and greet the director as if nothing has happened.
“Here you go!” Mrs. Trent says cheerfully. She’s put the big roll of tickets and inflatable insect in a paper bag, which Ally takes from her with a smile.
“This is going to be great!” Cassy says, rising from her seat. “We hope that you’ll come.”
“How many kids are in the program?” Sam asks, walking over to Ally and pulling the tickets out of the bag.
“Forty right now,” Mrs. Trent answers, her demeanor changing slightly at the reminder that soon, there won’t be any.
“Here.” Sam tears off a handful of tickets, and gives them to the older woman. “We planned on making special invitations, but didn’t have time. Can you hand these out to them this week? We would love to have all of the kids come!”
Smiling again, Mrs. Trent accepts the coupons, and then walks the girls out to the front entrance. “We’ll look forward to seeing you on Saturday,” she tells them sincerely. “I’m sure it will be amazing!”
Once outside, Sam squints against the bright, afternoon sunshine. As her eyes adjust, she nearly bumps into someone coming up the steps.
“Excuse me, young lady!”
Looking up at the deep voice, Sam instantly recognizes Gregory Kingsman. Although he’s wearing jeans and a t-shirt instead of a suit, his slicked back hair and fake smile are hard to miss.
He’s holding a large, manila envelope in his hand, and Sam wonders if it’s another threatening memo for poor Mrs. Trent. The thought angers her, and she answers with a bit more vehemence than intended. “Well, excuse me.”
Stepping around him, she rushes to catch up with Ally and Cassy at the bottom of the broad steps, the back of her neck burning from her flush of annoyance.
“Wait. Do I know you? Perhaps I can help you with something?”
Turning back, Sam tries to gather herself. They’re so close to possibly putting an end to his manipulation that she doesn’t want to ruin things now. “I don’t think we’ve ever met, sir. We belong to a charity club at the middle school, and we’re hosting a fundraiser for the afterschool program this weekend.”
His face goes through a transformation, from the proper politician, to a darker, more sinister adversary. “Ahhh, yes. The haunted house.” He says it with disdain, while slowly descending two of the steps, moving closer. “Mrs. Trent told me all about it. You must be the infamous Samantha Wolf.”
Sam can’t help but take a step back. It’s unsettling that he knows her name.
“I remember reading an article this summer, regarding one of your escapades. You seem to have a knack for getting yourself into trouble. You know, I’m close friends with Grace Potts. I hope your event is a big success. But so many things can go wrong with these types of … undertakings.”
Biting back a response, Sam doesn’t dare look away first. It isn’t until Ally grabs her by the shoulders that she finally turns around. The three girls walk away silently, leaving the slimy man grinning on the porch.
Resisting the urge to run, Sam instead pats the phone now secured in her back pocket. On it is what she hopes is the information needed to keep the Potts out of jail, and to take Gregory Kingsman down.
12
ROADBLOCK
The hike up the hill seems to be taking a whole lot longer than usual. Sam is nervous, and she knows that Ally and Cassy are, too. Grace gave them strict orders not to do anything to try to help them, and they’re about to give her proof of doing just that.
They went back to Ally’s last night, after the confrontation with Kingsman, and printed out
the pictures from Sam’s phone. Now, the evidence is folded in her back pocket, where it’s been all day at school. Their excuse for the visit this Friday afternoon is to give Grace some tickets, and to show her the final plans for the haunted house. All valid reasons.
“Do you think Grace and Benjamin will be mad?” Ally whispers her question, as if fearful that someone might overhear her on the wooded trail.
“I hope not,” Sam answers. Looking up at the bright blue, fall sky, she takes in a deep breath of the crisp air and tries to calm her nerves.
The girls already had this discussion the night before, and decided that it was worth taking the chance. At least this way they know they’ve done everything possible to help.
“We really do need to hurry,” Cassy urges from farther up the path. “Lisa will be done grading her papers by four. If we’re going to get home in time for dinner before the football game, we have to get back to the school and catch a ride with her.”
The boys have a home game tonight, and the girls promised that they would be there for it. Hunter even thinks he might have a chance of getting in on the punt return team, a sort of rites of passage for a junior varsity player.
It’s almost three o’clock by the time they arrive, and Grace ushers them in. She greets them wearing an apron, with tantalizing smells escaping through the open door. She’s in the middle of making a pot roast dinner, and directs the three girls to different spots along the counter in the spacious kitchen to help cut up vegetables.
Cassy gives the tickets to Grace first, and then they begin making small talk about the final layout for the haunted house while working. Sam tries to come up with a way to tell her about the evidence, as she’s slicing up a carrot.
“Sam,” Grace suddenly says, interrupting her thoughts. “Why don’t you tell me why you’re really here?”