Chương 6
She had spent years warning analysts about exactly that.
“What is it?” Susan asked.
“I need to be careful.”
“With what?”
“Company information.”
Daniel frowned.
“Your husband steals your money and you’re worried about an employee handbook?”
“Yes.”
The sharpness surprised him.
Claire softened her voice.
“Yes, Dad, because if Evan has done something at work too, I don’t want to give him a way to say I mishandled confidential records.”
Daniel rubbed his jaw.
“Fine.”
“Fine?”
“I hate it, but fine.”
Claire opened a blank document instead and typed Redbridge Consulting from memory.
Then she shut down the corporate login.
At two-thirty, Naomi came in with a woman Claire had not met.
The woman introduced herself as Marisol Vega, an attorney with a local nonprofit that assisted people dealing with family violence and financial abuse.
Claire disliked her immediately.
Marisol was brisk, unsentimental, and asked questions Claire did not want to answer.
Were Claire and Evan legally married in Texas?
Yes.
Did they own the West Lake Hills house?
No.
The house belonged to Raymond and Judith.
Was Claire listed on any property?
Not that she knew.
Did she have separate retirement accounts?
Yes, through work.
Did Evan have access?
Possibly.
Had she ever signed a power of attorney?
Claire hesitated.
“I signed documents when we refinanced something.”
“What did you refinance?”
“I thought it was a vehicle.”
Marisol stopped writing.
“You thought?”
“Evan handled it.”
“Did you read the documents?”
Claire felt heat rise in her face.
“No.”
Daniel shifted in his chair.
Claire saw it and snapped.
“Don’t.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“Your face did.”
Daniel looked away.
Marisol continued as if neither had spoken.
“Do you have copies?”
“No.”
“Then we find out what you signed before assuming anything.”
Claire pointed toward the laptop.
“I found transfers.”
Marisol did not reach for the computer.
“Found where?”
Claire explained the old cloud account, the shared-drive password from an earlier message, and the files stored there.
“Did you guess the password?”
“It was a password Evan gave me when we were engaged.”
“Did he ever revoke your access?”
“Not that I know.”
“Did you bypass any security?”
“No.”
“Install anything?”
“No.”
“Access an account clearly belonging only to him?”
Claire looked at the screen.
“I don’t know.”
“That answer matters.”
Marisol finally moved closer.
“Don’t send me anything today.”
“Why?”
“Because we need to distinguish documents you were authorized to access from documents you merely can access.”
Claire hated the distinction for the second time that day.
“Everyone keeps telling me what I can’t use.”
“Good evidence survives scrutiny.”
Marisol’s tone remained flat.
“Badly obtained evidence can become an argument about you instead of him.”
Claire stared at her.
Marisol held the stare.
Then Claire nodded.
“What can I do?”
“Preserve what you lawfully control.”
“My payroll records?”
“Yes.”
“My bank statements?”
“If you are an account holder, yes.”
“My text messages?”
“Yes.”
“Photos of my injuries?”
“Yes.”
“Medical records?”
“Yes.”
“Margaret’s account of finding me?”
“That belongs to Margaret, but police have spoken to her.”
Claire tapped the laptop.
“And this?”
“For now, stop touching it.”
The instruction made her angry enough that she wanted to do precisely the opposite.
Marisol seemed to notice.
“You’re used to solving things by getting more information.”
Claire said nothing.
“That is useful in your job.”
Marisol capped her pen.
“It can also get you into trouble when you’re hurt, exhausted, furious, and trying to outrun people who have had longer to prepare.”
Claire looked at Susan.
Her mother was pretending to examine the nutrition label on a granola bar.
“Do you think Evan prepared for this?”
“I think a man who asked police whether electronics were seized is thinking about information.”
That silenced the room.
Marisol helped Claire begin an application for a protective order, though she warned that paperwork was not a physical shield.
They discussed discharge locations, transportation, and how to prevent Evan from discovering where Claire stayed.
The plan grew annoyingly complicated.
Hotels generated records.
Ride-share accounts stored destinations.
Shared cellular plans exposed activity.
Family location services could betray people who forgot they were enabled.
Credit-card alerts could show purchases.
Claire had never considered how many conveniences were also breadcrumbs.
When Marisol left, Susan sat on the edge of the windowsill.
“Your father and I need to check our phones.”
Daniel looked offended.
“For what?”
“Location sharing.”
“I don’t share my location.”
“You share it with me.”
“That’s different.”
“How?”
“I know you.”
Susan stared.
Daniel sighed and pulled out his phone.
Claire smiled despite herself.
That evening, the hospital brought mashed potatoes, green beans, and a piece of chicken so pale Daniel called it “a witness protection entrée.”
Claire ate half the potatoes.
Physical therapy had left her trembling.
The therapist had taught her how to transfer from bed to a walker without putting weight on the injured leg.
Claire had lasted perhaps ninety seconds upright before nausea forced her back down.
She hated the walker.
She hated the brace.
She hated needing someone to stand nearby while she went to the bathroom.
Most of all, she hated the small humiliations that had nothing to do with Evan and therefore could not be defeated by leaving him.
Healing had its own authority.
At nine, her work phone still had not been recovered, so Claire used the hospital line to call Vantage Core’s human resources department.
She asked for Denise Holloway, the vice president of people operations.
Denise answered from home.
“Claire?”
“Yes.”
“My God, I heard you were in surgery.”
Claire stiffened.
“From whom?”
A pause.
“Evan.”
“What did he tell you?”
“That you had an accident at home.”
“What kind of accident?”
“He said you fell.”
Claire closed her eyes.
Daniel started to speak.
She raised one finger and he stopped.
“Denise, I need this conversation documented.”
Another pause.
“All right.”
“I was assaulted at home.”
Denise’s voice changed.
“By Evan?”
“No.”
Claire forced herself to stay precise.
May you like
“By a member of his family.”
“I’m so sorry.”
