Their mother used to say Diane could charm the birds out of the trees. And she could. That was the problem. She could make you believe anything, make you feel anything, make you do anything, all while thinking it was your own idea. Margaret didn’t see it. and she saw her baby sister. The girl she’d protected their whole lives. The girl who cried in her arms when her first husband left her. The girl who called her at 2 in the morning when she was scared or lonely or broke.
The girl who needed her. That’s what Margaret saw. What she didn’t see was the snake coiled behind that smile. It was September 2006 when everything started to fall apart. Diane showed up at Margaret’s door on a Tuesday night, crying so hard she could barely breathe. Robert was already asleep. He had a big delivery the next day. Three dining tables going to a client in Memphis. Margaret was grading papers at the kitchen table when she heard the pounding on the door.
The moment she saw her sister’s face, she knew something was wrong. Dian’s mascara was running. Her hands were shaking. She looked like she hadn’t slept in days. They’re going to kill me, Maggie, Diane said. That’s what she called her older sister, Maggie. No one else did. They’re going to kill me, and I don’t know what to do. Margaret pulled her inside, made her tea, sat her down at the kitchen table, and waited while she pulled herself together enough to talk.
The story Diane told went like this. She’d gotten into gambling, not just a little, a lot. Started at the casinos in Tunka, moved to underground poker games. Eventually started borrowing money from people she shouldn’t have borrowed from. Lone sharks, she called them dangerous men. She owed them $140,000 and they’d give her 30 days to pay or they’d make an example of her. I’ve seen what they do to people who don’t pay. Diane whispered. There was a man last month.
They found him in a ditch outside Memphis. His hands were. She couldn’t finish. Margaret believed every word. Why wouldn’t she? This was her sister, her blood. The girl she’d shared a bedroom with for 18 years. The girl she’d taught to ride a bike, helped with homework, held when she cried over boys. Why would she lie? So when Diane told her about the scheme, The Way Out, Margaret listened. Diane had been working as a bookkeeper for a property development company in Nashville.
The owner was a man named Gerald Whitmore. And according to Diane, he was running a massive financial fraud, stealing from investors, hiding money offshore, the works. Diane had found the evidence. She had documents, records, proof of everything. He found out I know. Diane said, “That’s why he sent those men after me. It’s not gambling debts, Maggie. It’s him. He’s trying to silence me before I can go to the authorities.” Margaret should have asked questions, should have demanded to see the evidence, should have called the police right then and there.
