Chương 8
Rebecca turned the notebook toward the desk lamp as if better light might change the handwriting.
It did not.
"I'd know that capital S anywhere."
Her fingertip hovered over the line.
"Dad wrote like he was engraving stone."
I looked again at the five words.
Then make sure Sloan stays home.
My first reaction was almost relief.
Not because Charles Vance had conspired to exclude me, but because the sentence proved Julian had not built this isolation entirely alone.
For one weak second, sharing the blame made the world feel simpler.
Then I remembered Charles had been dead seven years.
Julian had continued for four more.
"What did your father know about Mercer?"
"I don't know."
Rebecca sat on the edge of the desk.
"Charles knew everything about the family companies."
"Everything except this?"
"He suspected something."
She tapped the earlier entry.
"Dad pushing audit."
"An audit of Julian?"
"Maybe."
"Would your father have been able to move money through the trusts?"
"Yes."
"Would Julian?"
"Not easily."
That word mattered.
"Not easily isn't no."
"No."
Rebecca rubbed her forehead.
"Julian worked inside the family investment office for about eighteen months after college."
"He told me he never worked for your father."
"He told you that?"
"Repeatedly."
Rebecca stared at me.
"He hated working for Dad."
"Why?"
"Because Dad watched every expense and treated questions like accusations."
"That sounds healthy, given today."
A reluctant smile touched her mouth.
"Not then."
She looked back at the notebook.
"Julian left after a blowup."
"What kind?"
"Nobody ever told me the whole thing."
"Did it involve money?"
"I assumed it involved Dad being impossible."
"That's not what I asked."
Rebecca went quiet.
"Yes."
My phone buzzed.
A message from Eleanor appeared.
Martin needs copies of the notebook pages involving the trusts.
Do not send originals anywhere.
A second message followed.
Grant has changed the house alarm code.
A third came less than a minute later.
Julian still has a key.
I showed Rebecca.
"Changing the code won't stop a key."
"Grant knows."
"Does he?"
She called him again.
This time he answered on the first ring.
"We changed the locks."
Rebecca blinked.
"That was fast."
"Beach property manager had a locksmith nearby."
"Did Mom approve it?"
"She told him to drill through the damn cylinder if he had to."
Rebecca smiled despite herself.
"That sounds like her."
"Where are you?"
Grant asked.
"At Sloan's."
"Still?"
"Yes."
"Good."
"What does that mean?"
"It means don't leave."
Rebecca's face tightened.
"Why?"
"Martin found something."
I moved closer.
"What?"
"Julian wasn't authorized to request those distributions after 2019."
The air seemed to leave the room.
Rebecca asked, "Then how did they happen?"
"Martin is checking."
"Checking what?"
"Whether someone altered the trustee acknowledgment forms."
My skin prickled.
"Someone meaning Julian?"
Grant hesitated.
"Someone meaning someone."
Rebecca rolled her eyes.
"Fantastic lawyer answer."
"I'm not a lawyer."
"You're practicing."
Grant ignored her.
"Martin wants Sloan to preserve everything exactly as she found it."
"I already put the box back."
"Good."
"He knows I photographed it."
A beat passed.
"Julian does?"
"Yes."
Grant swore.
"What?"
"Nothing."
"Grant."
"If he knows you have copies, don't be alone tonight."
My stomach tightened.
"Do you think he'd hurt me?"
"I didn't say that."
"You implied it."
"I'm saying he's panicking."
"That's not the same thing."
"No."
Grant's voice dropped.
"But I've never seen Julian panic."
Neither had I.
Even during my emergency C-section with Leo, Julian had stood beside the hospital bed checking his email between contractions because helplessness annoyed him.
He did not panic.
He reorganized.
He minimized.
He took control.
"What happened with your father and Julian?"
I asked.
Grant was silent for too long.
Rebecca stood up.
"You know."
"I know pieces."
"Then give us the pieces."
"Not over the phone."
"Stop saying that."
"I'm driving."
"To where?"
"Mom's attorney."
"With Mom?"
"Yes."
"Then put her on."
"She's on another call."
Rebecca paced to the window.
"Grant, Dad wrote in Julian's notebook."
Silence.
"What?"
I watched Rebecca's face.
She repeated the sentence.
"Dad wrote, 'Then make sure Sloan stays home.'"
Grant did not respond.
"Grant?"
"I heard you."
"Why would he write that?"
A long breath came through the speaker.
"Because Charles didn't trust Julian around you when financial matters came up."
I stared at the phone.
"What does that mean?"
Grant sounded reluctant now, not confused.
"Before Charles died, he thought Julian had been using your name to open investment accounts."
My knees weakened.
Rebecca grabbed the back of a chair.
"Say that again."
"You heard me."
"Why the hell didn't anybody tell Sloan?"
"Because Dad wasn't sure."
"That is not an answer."
"He was investigating it."
"He died."
"I know."
"And then what?"
"Then the investigation stopped."
Rebecca's voice rose.
"Why?"
"Because Mom couldn't deal with it."
"You mean she didn't want to."
"Rebecca."
"No."
Her face flushed.
"Dad dies, Julian says everything is fine, and everybody just goes back to the beach?"
Grant snapped back.
"You were there too."
The accusation landed.
Rebecca stopped pacing.
Grant continued more quietly.
"We all did it."
The room fell silent.
I could hear road noise behind his voice.
Then I said, "What kind of accounts?"
"Investment accounts."
"In my name?"
"Possibly joint accounts."
"Possibly?"
"Charles found references to transfers that didn't match the family books."
"Mercer?"
The road noise disappeared beneath Grant's silence.
"Where did you hear that?"
"In the notebook."
"What does it say?"
I read the lines.
Mercer transfer.
Hold outside household accounts.
Mom cannot see.
Mercer call after distribution.
Mercer documents not at house.
Grant swore again.
"Grant."
"Mercer was Charles's private holding company."
Rebecca stared at the wall.
"What?"
"It was supposed to be dissolved after his death."
"Supposed to be?"
"That's what Martin believed."
My heartbeat became painfully loud.
"What did Mercer hold?"
"Temporary investments."
Grant spoke carefully.
"Bridge loans, private notes, things Dad didn't want mixed into operating companies."
"Could Julian access it?"
May you like
"He had signing authority years ago."
Rebecca sat down hard.
