Chương 6
Daniel stopped.
“Why?”
“That’s what I want to know.”
I looked at the screen again.
The lake house had been empty after my father died because I could not bring myself to go back.
Grant had gone twice.
Once to meet the estate appraiser.
Once, he said, to shut off the water before winter.
My mouth went dry.
“What exact date?”
Lena told me.
I knew the date.
I did not know why until the memory arrived.
A paper takeout container.
Grant coming home late.
His jacket smelling faintly of wood smoke.
I had been sitting on the kitchen floor sorting condolence letters because the dining table felt too formal for grief.
He had dropped beside me and eaten cold noodles from the carton.
I had asked whether the lake house seemed lonely.
He had said he never went inside.
I looked up from the laptop.
“Grant was there.”
Lena’s expression did not change.
“You’re sure?”
“He told me he went to close the property for winter.”
Daniel’s face tightened.
“That’s not proof he made the login.”
“No.”
I stared at the archived record.
“But he lied about going inside.”
“How do you know?”
“The fireplace.”
They both looked at me.
“He smelled like wood smoke.”
Lena crossed her arms.
“That is still not proof.”
“I know.”
“And I’m saying that because right now you’re angry enough to make memory feel cleaner than it is.”
I wanted to snap at her.
Instead, I looked away.
A woman in blue scrubs was standing two rows over, digging through the trunk of a Honda.
She pulled out one shoe, then another, then cursed when she realized they did not match.
For some reason, watching her made the garage feel real again.
“What else?”
Lena closed the audit log.
“The trust didn’t merely acquire Aurelius shares.”
She opened another file.
“It financed Aurelius.”
“How?”
“Convertible notes.”
Daniel stepped beside me.
“How much?”
“Initially six million.”
“From the trust?”
“Yes.”
I shook my head.
“My trust documents require co-approval for private investments over two million.”
“They got it.”
“From whom?”
Lena enlarged the signature field.
My father’s longtime estate attorney, Martin Vale.
I stared at his name.
Martin had sat beside me at my father’s funeral.
He had handled the trust transition.
He had brought me soup three days later because he said grief made people forget salt.
“He’s retired.”
“He was still trustee counsel then.”
Daniel was reading the date.
“Did he certify Claire’s authorization?”
“Yes.”
“Have you called him?”
“Twice.”
“And?”
“No answer.”
I pulled out my phone.
Martin’s number was still saved.
I had not spoken to him in almost a year.
It rang five times before going to voicemail.
His recorded voice sounded exactly as I remembered it, dry and irritated by the existence of telephones.
I hung up without leaving a message.
Lena watched me.
“You should not warn him until we know what he signed and why.”
“He’s eighty-one.”
“Eighty-two.”
“That correction was unnecessary.”
“I checked.”
Daniel took the laptop.
“Aurelius held the Vela software patents.”
“Past tense,” Lena said.
“What happened to them?”
“Sold.”
“To whom?”
She took the laptop back and opened a corporate registry document.
“Northstar Medical Systems.”
I blinked.
Daniel swore softly.
“When?”
“Three years ago.”
I looked between them.
“So Northstar bought its own patents back?”
“Effectively.”
“How much?”
“Thirty-four million.”
I felt something shift inside me.
Not understanding.
The opposite.
A deeper confusion with sharper edges.
“Who approved the acquisition?”
“Board committee.”
“Was Grant involved?”
“Yes.”
“Was Melissa?”
“Yes.”
Daniel looked at Lena.
“Was Claire’s trust disclosed as an indirect owner?”
“No.”
He stopped moving.
“That’s a problem.”
“What kind of problem?”
“A large one.”
I turned to him.
“Use normal words.”
“If Northstar purchased assets from an entity partly owned by your family trust, that ownership relationship should have been disclosed and reviewed as a related-party transaction.”
“I didn’t know I owned it.”
“That helps you personally.”
“Does it help Northstar?”
“No.”
Lena leaned against the rental car.
“There’s more.”
I almost laughed.
“Of course there is.”
“The thirty-four million didn’t remain at Aurelius.”
“Where did it go?”
“Most of it was distributed to owners.”
“Including my trust.”
“Yes.”
“How much?”
“A little under eleven million.”
That matched Daniel’s number.
I rubbed my forehead.
“So the mysterious eleven million in my trust is basically Northstar money from buying back patents Northstar originally developed.”
“That is the simplified version.”
“That’s theft.”
Daniel answered before Lena could.
“Potentially.”
“Please don’t say potentially because you’re a lawyer.”
“I’m saying it because facts matter.”
“Then give me the facts.”
“We do not yet know whether Northstar transferred the patents lawfully to Aurelius in the first place.”
Grant’s earlier words returned to me.
Your father knew.
I stared at Daniel.
“If my father moved the patents out of Northstar.”
“That changes the origin.”
“But not the later purchase.”
“Correct.”
Lena closed the laptop halfway.
“There’s another issue.”
I gave her a look.
“You enjoy saying that.”
“No, actually.”
She reopened it.
“The original patent transfer document was signed nine days before your father entered hospice.”
My chest tightened.
“He was still working then.”
“I know.”
“He was lucid.”
“I’m not suggesting otherwise.”
“Then why does the date matter?”
“Because his signature is witnessed by Martin Vale.”
I waited.
“And?”
“And Grant Hale.”
The garage seemed very quiet.
I stared at Lena.
“Grant witnessed it?”
“Yes.”
“He said Aurelius bought the patents.”
“He apparently knew that before tonight.”
Daniel’s jaw tightened.
“He knew exactly how.”
I looked toward the elevator.
The anger came fast enough that I started walking before either of them spoke.
Lena caught up with me.
“Claire.”
“He lied in the car.”
“Yes.”
“I asked him what Aurelius was.”
“Yes.”
“He stood beside me and pretended he barely remembered it.”
“He withheld material information.”
I hit the elevator button.
“You can call it lying.”
“I was trying to keep you from going upstairs furious and doing something stupid.”
May you like
The doors opened.
“I appreciate the attempt.”
