Chương 8
She had turned it off.
The thought made her feel physically ill.
Her phone rang.
Samuel.
Margaret answered.
“What happened?”
Samuel sounded exhausted.
“Chloe threw me out.”
Margaret closed her eyes.
“Where are you?”
“In my car.”
“Don’t drive if you’re too upset.”
“I’m parked.”
“Good.”
Samuel laughed once.
“You sound like Mom again.”
“I am Mom.”
“Yeah.”
There was a pause.
Margaret looked at Walter’s empty side of the closet.
“What did Chloe say?”
“A lot.”
“Did she believe you about not knowing the source of the money?”
“She believes I didn’t know at first.”
“At first.”
“I told her I found out three weeks ago.”
Margaret pressed her lips together.
“And didn’t tell her.”
“Yeah.”
“That was going to hurt.”
“Thanks.”
“You want me to lie?”
“No.”
Samuel breathed heavily into the phone.
“She said I keep treating her like she’s too fragile to know what’s happening in her own life.”
Margaret looked down.
“Is she wrong?”
“No.”
That answer came quickly.
“After the miscarriage, I made every decision like if I could remove enough problems, she’d go back to how she was.”
Margaret folded one of Walter’s ties over her fingers.
“She couldn’t.”
“No.”
“And neither could you.”
Samuel went quiet.
“Dad understood that part better than you did.”
Margaret regretted the sentence immediately.
“Sorry.”
“No, he did.”
Samuel’s voice sharpened.
“That’s what makes this worse.”
Margaret stopped moving.
“What do you mean?”
“When I called him that night, he came to the hospital.”
“Yes.”
“He stayed until almost three in the morning.”
Margaret waited.
“He was good, Mom.”
The pain in Samuel’s voice was different now.
“He didn’t talk too much.”
“He brought coffee.”
“He drove Chloe home because I was too tired.”
“He sat in the parking lot afterward with me for twenty minutes and said nothing.”
Margaret stared at the tie in her lap.
Walter had never told her any of that.
“He helped me when I couldn’t think.”
Samuel continued.
“And then he lied to me.”
Margaret closed her eyes.
“Yes.”
“I don’t know how those can both be true.”
“They can.”
“How?”
“I don’t know.”
She let the tie fall.
“But they are.”
Samuel was quiet.
Then he said, “There’s something else in the photos.”
Margaret opened her eyes.
“Which one?”
“Seven.”
She pulled up the seventh image.
It showed a bank statement with a highlighted transfer.
Twelve thousand dollars.
The recipient was not Lakeshore.
It was Northline Wellness Holdings.
Margaret frowned.
“I thought Northline was Chloe’s company.”
“It was.”
“This transfer is from two months ago.”
“I know.”
“Wasn’t the studio already dead by then?”
“Yes.”
“Then why did Walter send twelve thousand dollars to it?”
Samuel hesitated.
“That’s what I asked him.”
“What did he say?”
“That Chloe had outstanding obligations.”
“Did she?”
“No.”
Margaret’s stomach tightened.
“How do you know?”
“She closed the company account five months ago.”
Margaret looked at the statement again.
“Then where did the money go?”
“I called Chloe’s former business partner.”
“Today?”
“Before I called you the first time.”
Margaret sat straighter.
“What did she say?”
“The Northline account was reopened.”
“By whom?”
“She didn’t know.”
“How can she not know?”
“She wasn’t involved anymore.”
Margaret stared at the transfer.
“Could Chloe have reopened it?”
“No.”
“How do you know?”
“Because Chloe showed me the closure paperwork just now.”
“Then who had access?”
Samuel did not answer.
Margaret stood.
“Samuel.”
“Dad helped file the original LLC paperwork.”
The bedroom suddenly felt colder.
“He helped Chloe?”
“He helped us.”
Samuel corrected himself.
“He said it was simple and we didn’t need a lawyer for everything.”
Margaret walked to Walter’s desk in the corner.
He used it for household paperwork.
The drawers were locked except for the top one.
She pulled it open.
Pens.
Envelopes.
A stapler.
A stack of old insurance renewal notices.
Nothing.
“Mom, what are you doing?”
“Looking.”
“For what?”
“I don’t know yet.”
She opened the cabinet beneath the desk.
Tax folders lined one side.
She pulled out the most recent.
Walter kept copies of everything.
That had always reassured her.
Now she wondered what he kept copies of and what he did not.
Inside were their joint return, mortgage interest forms, pension statements.
She flipped faster.
Then she found a 1099 she did not recognize.
It listed Walter’s name and a payment from Lakeshore Consulting Services.
Margaret sat back down.
“Samuel.”
“What?”
“Lakeshore paid your father.”
“What?”
“Last year.”
“How much?”
“Fourteen thousand six hundred.”
Silence.
“That makes no sense.”
“No.”
“Unless it’s actually his company.”
Margaret looked at the business card again.
Richard Vance.
“Or someone close to him.”
Samuel said, “Search the company.”
Margaret went downstairs to her laptop.
She disliked using the small keyboard on her phone for anything important.
Walter teased her about that.
The computer took longer to wake than she wanted.
She searched the business name.
The first results were useless.
A lake association.
A consulting firm in Wisconsin with a similar name.
Then a Minnesota business registry listing appeared.
Margaret opened it.
Lakeshore Consulting Services LLC had been organized three years earlier.
Registered agent.
Richard Allen Vance.
Address.
A post office box in Minnetonka.
Margaret read the name again.
Something tugged at her.
Not recognition exactly.
A sound from another room in memory.
“Richard Vance,” she said aloud.
Samuel heard.
“What?”
“I’ve heard that name.”
“Where?”
“I don’t know.”
She searched the house in her mind.
Christmas cards.
Walter’s coworkers.
Golf.
Insurance dinners.
Then it came.
“Rick.”
Samuel waited.
“Your father had a friend named Rick Vance.”
“What kind of friend?”
“From work years ago.”
“Do you know him?”
“I met him.”
“When?”
Margaret leaned back.
“God.”
“What?”
“Your graduation.”
“College?”
“Yes.”
A picture surfaced.
A broad man with silver hair near the temple.
Too loud.
A bourbon in his hand.
Walter laughing harder than the joke deserved.
“Dad said he moved to Arizona.”
“He did.”
“Then why is his company registered here?”
Margaret searched the man’s name.
May you like
A social profile appeared.
Richard Vance lived in Scottsdale, Arizona.
