Chương 11
“Martin?”
“Yes.”
The answer should have been immediate.
It was not.
“I have.”
Beatrice looked down.
“That isn’t the same thing.”
Savannah felt irritation rise.
“You don’t get to interrogate my judgment today.”
Beatrice recoiled.
“I wasn’t.”
“It sounded like it.”
Rachel stepped in.
“Savannah.”
“I know.”
“No, listen.”
Rachel pointed toward the phone.
“We have a husband who just got arrested, a forged or altered agreement, two old witness signatures, one fabricated ownership claim, and now an accusation against your board chair.”
Savannah’s jaw tightened.
“Exactly.”
“Which means you do nothing fast.”
“I’m calling Martin.”
“No.”
“I need to hear his voice.”
“That is precisely why you should not call him.”
Savannah looked at her.
Rachel held the stare.
“If he knows nothing, you risk frightening a valuable ally.”
“If he knows something, you warn him.”
“If Christopher is lying, you hand him exactly what he wants, which is mistrust inside your company.”
Savannah looked away.
The argument made sense.
She hated it anyway.
Beatrice said, “What if Martin calls her?”
Rachel answered without looking at her.
“She doesn’t discuss the document.”
Savannah gave a short laugh.
“He watched my husband throw boiling tea at my face.”
“That’s separate.”
“Not anymore.”
“Legally and strategically, it needs to stay separate until we know more.”
Savannah walked to the window again.
Rain streaked the glass in uneven lines.
At the edge of the backyard, one of the motion lights flickered on despite the daylight.
Christopher had promised to fix the sensor three months ago.
He had said it was probably a loose wire.
Savannah had written electrician on a grocery list and then forgotten.
The light clicked off again.
Her phone buzzed.
Martin.
Savannah stared at his name on the screen.
Rachel said, “Don’t.”
Savannah let it ring.
Martin called a second time.
Then a third.
On the fourth, Rachel muttered something under her breath.
Beatrice looked between them.
“He’s persistent.”
“He always is,” Savannah said.
The phone stopped.
A text appeared.
We need to talk before this gets worse.
Savannah showed Rachel.
Rachel’s expression remained neutral.
Then another message arrived.
Christopher told you my name, didn’t he?
Savannah’s stomach tightened.
Beatrice stood.
Rachel took the phone.
She read both messages twice.
“This changes things.”
Savannah stared at her.
“Can I call him now?”
“No.”
“You just said it changes things.”
“It changes what I do.”
Rachel opened her bag and removed a legal pad.
“What?”
“I call him.”
Savannah almost objected.
Then she saw Rachel’s face.
Not fear.
Professional caution.
The kind of caution that had kept Savannah from making several expensive mistakes over the years.
Rachel called Martin on speaker.
He answered immediately.
“Savannah?”
“This is Rachel Kim.”
Silence.
Then, “Is she with you?”
“Yes.”
“Can I speak to her?”
“You can speak to me.”
Martin exhaled.
“This is not a legal issue between me and Savannah.”
“That remains to be seen.”
Savannah glanced at Rachel.
Rachel ignored her.
Martin’s voice hardened.
“Christopher called me three weeks ago because he had an old document with my signature on it.”
“We know that.”
“He asked whether I remembered signing it.”
“And did you?”
“I remembered signing something.”
“What?”
“A witness page.”
“For what?”
“I thought it was a loan acknowledgment.”
Rachel looked at Savannah.
Savannah remained still.
Martin continued.
“I told Christopher exactly that.”
“Did you ever give Elaine Porter a signature page?”
“No.”
“Did you ask her to sign anything for Christopher?”
A pause.
“No.”
Rachel’s eyes narrowed.
The pause had been too long.
“What did you do?”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“You do.”
Martin breathed out.
“I asked Elaine to witness a stack of routine documents during the office move.”
“When?”
“Eleven years ago.”
Savannah sat down.
Rachel said, “What documents?”
“Vendor assignments, lease transfer papers, insurance forms.”
“Anything for Christopher?”
“I don’t remember.”
“That answer is not useful.”
“It’s also the truth.”
Savannah pressed her fingers against her mouth.
She remembered the move.
Three days of cardboard boxes, bad pizza, missing cables, and one rainstorm that soaked half the loading dock.
Christopher had shown up on the second day.
Martin had been there too.
Elaine had spent hours at a folding table sorting papers into piles.
Savannah herself had signed dozens of pages without reading every line because she trusted Elaine to flag anything important.
A memory surfaced.
Christopher carrying a blue accordion folder.
Not remarkable at the time.
Maybe not meaningful now.
Maybe just a folder.
Savannah forced herself not to turn it into proof.
Rachel asked, “Martin, did you ever handle Savannah’s signed blank pages?”
“No.”
Another pause.
“Not knowingly.”
Rachel’s tone sharpened.
“What does that mean?”
“We had signature packets.”
Savannah looked up.
“What?”
Martin heard her.
“Savannah.”
“What signature packets?”
“You were traveling constantly.”
“I know.”
“We kept pre-signed authorization pages for recurring vendor forms.”
Savannah stared at him through the phone as if distance could become visible.
Rachel said, “Who is we?”
“Elaine.”
“And?”
“Me.”
Savannah felt heat rise beneath the dressing.
“You never told me that.”
Martin’s voice dropped.
“You signed them.”
“I signed what Elaine put in front of me.”
“You knew what they were for.”
“No, I knew they were routine authorizations.”
“That’s what I mean.”
“That is not the same thing.”
Beatrice shifted uncomfortably.
Rachel held up one hand toward Savannah.
“Were those blank signature pages?”
Martin hesitated.
“Partially blank.”
Rachel’s expression changed.
“Define partially.”
“The signature block was attached to a document template.”
“Could the upper portion be replaced?”
“In theory.”
Savannah closed her eyes.
There it was.
Not a smoking gun.
A hole.
A real one.
Rachel asked, “Where were these packets stored?”
“In a locked cabinet.”
“Who had access?”
“Elaine.”
“Anyone else?”
“Me.”
“Savannah?”
“Of course.”
“Christopher?”
“No.”
Savannah opened her eyes.
Martin continued before anyone spoke.
“At least he wasn’t supposed to.”
Rachel leaned forward.
“What does that mean?”
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“During the move, everyone had access to almost everything for two days.”
Savannah pictured the old office with doors propped open, boxes in hallways, movers asking questions, temporary badges tossed onto desks.
