Chapter 2 - Pierce Had Never Heard of Cumberland Pines“Where is Cumberland Pines?”
Pierce asked the question without looking away from Henrietta.
She said nothing.
The police officer took the paperwork from him.
Pierce pulled out his phone and searched.
Cumberland Pines Residential Academy.
Private boarding program.
Eastern Kentucky.
Three hours and forty minutes from Chattanooga.
The website described structured academics, grief support, behavioral coaching, and residential care for children from eight to fourteen.
Rowan was eight.
Pierce felt sick.
“You enrolled him?”
Henrietta finally spoke.
“I made inquiries.”
“This says admitted.”
“The school evaluated the information they were given.”
“What information?”
She folded her arms.
“Your son has not been well.”
Rowan stiffened against Pierce.
Pierce noticed immediately.
“What does that mean?”
“He has tantrums.”
“He’s eight.”
“He lies.”
Rowan burst out:
“No, I don’t!”
Henrietta’s eyes snapped toward him.
Pierce stepped between them.
“Look at me.”
She did.
“Not him.”
Henrietta’s jaw tightened.
Pierce opened the packet again.
There was a behavioral summary.
Aggression.
Oppositional behavior.
Sleep disruption.
Separation anxiety.
Property damage.
Pierce stared.
“Who wrote this?”
Henrietta said:
“I kept records.”
“You kept records on my son?”
“Somebody had to.”
Pierce laughed once.
No humor.
“You live in my house.”
“I hold this house together.”
“No.”
His voice remained controlled.
“You manage employees and schedules. You do not conduct psychological evaluations.”
The officer asked Rowan whether he felt safe staying with Pierce.
Rowan grabbed his father’s hand.
“Yes.”
The answer was immediate.
Then the officer asked:
“Do you feel safe with your grandmother?”
Rowan looked at Henrietta.
His face changed.
“No.”
Henrietta went white.
That word did more damage than any accusation Pierce could make.
The officers separated them.
Henrietta was asked to wait downstairs while statements were taken.
Luis came inside.
Rowan saw him.
“You sent Dad the video?”
Luis hesitated.
“Yes.”
Rowan began crying again.
“Thank you.”
Luis looked as if someone had hit him.
He knelt.
“You never have to thank me for that.”
Pierce looked away.
He needed a second.
Then he returned to the documents.
Cumberland Pines had accepted a deposit.
$18,500.
Source:
Rowan Heritage Trust.
Pierce stared.
“What trust?”
He knew Rowan had money from Mara.
After Mara died from cancer two years earlier, most of her separate inheritance had been placed into a trust for Rowan.
Pierce was trustee.
At least, he believed he was.
He called the bank that administered the investment account.
Security questions.
Verification.
Then:
“Mr. Pierce, our records show you stepped down as acting trustee six weeks ago.”
Pierce stopped breathing.
“I did what?”
“You executed a temporary resignation.”
“No.”
The representative became cautious.
“I’m going to transfer you to our fraud department.”
Pierce looked at the document packet.
His heart started pounding.
“Who replaced me?”
Another pause.
“Henrietta.”
Pierce sat down.
Rowan watched him.
“Dad?”
“I’m okay.”
He was not.
Henrietta had not only forged a school authorization.
Someone had filed a document removing Pierce from control of his son’s trust.
“When was the first withdrawal after the trustee change?”
Pierce asked.
The representative could not discuss everything until fraud procedures were opened.
But one figure was provided.
$18,500.
Cumberland Pines.
Then another.
$32,000.
“Purpose?”
“Residential support reserve.”
“To whom?”
“Henrietta.”
Pierce stared toward the staircase.
His mother was downstairs with an officer.
In six weeks, she had somehow made herself trustee of Rowan’s money and begun paying herself for caring for him.
Pierce ended the call only after freezing non-essential distributions.
Then he noticed Rowan staring at Mara’s framed photograph from the suitcase.
“Did Grandma pack Mom’s picture?”
Rowan shook his head.
“It was already in there.”
Pierce frowned.
“What?”
“I put it there yesterday.”
“Why?”
Rowan’s eyes shifted toward Henrietta’s bedroom.
“Because I thought she was going to take it.”
“Why would she?”
Rowan rubbed his wet sleeve over his face.
“I found something.”
Pierce went still.
“What?”
“In Grandma’s desk.”
Henrietta had accused Rowan of snooping more than once.
Pierce had believed her.
Now he felt ashamed.
“What did you find?”
“A key.”
“What kind?”
“Small.”
“Where is it?”
Rowan looked frightened.
“I hid it.”
“Where?”
“In Mom’s picture.”
Pierce turned the frame over.
Nothing.
Then Rowan slid one fingernail beneath the cardboard backing.
A tiny brass key fell into Pierce’s palm.
Luis looked at him.
Pierce looked at Rowan.
“What does this open?”
“I don’t know.”
“Why did you hide it?”
“Because Grandma was yelling on the phone.”
“What did she say?”
Rowan swallowed.
“She said, ‘If Pierce finds Mara’s box before tomorrow, we lose everything.’”
The room became silent.
Pierce’s late wife had been dead for two years.
Yet somewhere in Chattanooga, there was apparently a box belonging to her.
Henrietta knew about it.
May you like
Someone else knew too.
And Rowan’s suitcase had been packed for departure the morning before Pierce was supposed to find it.
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