Page 5 of Concrete Evidence
“Good call, Mom. You must be related to the FBI.”
She gave him a thin smile. “I have a wonderful son who means everything to me. He’s smart, hot—as the girls say—and loves his mother.”
How could Marc refuse anything she asked?
“Son, will you tell me everything you find out and hold nothing back?”
“I’ll do my best.” He took her hand into his. “I see how the circumstances surrounding my father’s death have upset you. I’ll do some probing to ease your mind. Be patient, answers may take a few days. I’d like his cardiologist’s information and the medical examiner’s name who signed his death certificate.”
“I have those at the house.”
“Did Dad reference anything or anyone else? An identifying factor about his friend?”
“Nothing I can recall. Can you search Abbott’s office and records?”
He continued to hold her hand. “Not the FBI’s jurisdiction. If the corps suspects foul play and requests assistance from the FBI, then I might learn more. But with a medical examiner referring tohis death as natural causes, I don’t see any reason for them to spend extra money on—”
“A grieving wife insisting her husband had a healthy heart per a cardiologist?”
“Honestly, you hit the nail straight on. I’ll do all I can. No promises.”
“I understand. But you are his son. Surely you have a little clout. Can you arrange for the corps to send me his personal effects? I have his house key.”
Marc chose not to dive into how or why she had the key. “I’ll request those things when I contact them. At some point we’ll want to go through his home. Unless he has a will, his estate will be tied up in probate.”
She stared out the windshield. “Thank you. I’d also like for you to talk to his regular GP. Abbott could have forged his health report for some unknown reason. But I doubt it. He’s guilty of a lot of things, hard to forgive things, but lying wasn’t one of them.”
How well Marc remembered the man’s bluntness. Truth came before sparing feelings, whether the information was needed or not.
“You’re a disappointment, kid. Life isn’t about books. It’s about being a man, playing sports, and moving toward a career in the military. And your mother encourages your behavior. That’s why I’m outta here.”
His father had loaded up the trunk of his car and driven off, leaving a brokenhearted wife and eight-year-old son.
“The harsh look on your face tells me you’re holding a grudge against your father. Gracious, Marc. Leave the past behind you. Forgive him because bitterness will only eat you alive. I should know.” Mom sighed and released her hand from his to dab her eyes. “Your dad’s gone, and in the end, he made amends with me and wanted to do the same with you.”
Why? They had nothing in common. “For your sake, I’m glad you have peace.”
“Peace is finding out who and why your father is dead.” She rubbed her forehead.
“What aren’t you telling me? I feel like I’m prying a splinter out of a rock.”
“I have a copy of his will.”
“What? Have you read it?”
“Yes, and a few things will shock you.”
Marc neither wanted to hear this nor deal with any issues regarding his father.
“You look angry,” she said.
He leaned his head back and searched his vault of mom responses. “I’ve given my word to help. Is this the last bomb?”
“Yes.”
“I’m ready.”
“As I said, Abbott gave me a copy. He left me 40percent of his estate and his home. You receive 30percent, and... your fifteen-year-old half sister will receive the other 30percent.”
