Chương 9
The caller laughed again.
“That got your attention.”
“Send them.”
“No.”
“Then they don’t exist.”
“You really think that?”
“I think someone who has useful leverage usually shows enough of it to be believed.”
The line went quiet.
Tessa was watching me with alarm.
Dana said something through Lydia’s phone speaker, but I held up one finger.
The caller said, “There’s a consulting agreement.”
“With whom?”
“Lydia.”
“For what?”
“Investor relations.”
Lydia whispered, “No.”
The caller heard her.
“Yes.”
I said, “Send it.”
Another pause.
Then the call disconnected.
Three seconds later, a PDF arrived by text.
Lydia opened it.
The first page contained the logo of Thorne Biomedical Systems.
The agreement was dated seven months earlier.
Her name appeared at the top.
Compensation was listed as two percent of capital introduced through her direct referrals.
Lydia shook her head.
“I never got paid.”
Tessa said, “Keep reading.”
She scrolled.
At the bottom was another digital signature.
Lydia’s.
The date matched a weekend when I knew she and Marcus had been in Aspen.
Dana said, “Do you recognize this document?”
“No.”
“Do you recognize the signature?”
“It looks like mine.”
“That is not the question.”
“No.”
Her voice broke.
“I never signed this.”
I looked at the payment terms.
“If this were real, how much would you have earned?”
Tessa calculated quickly.
“Potentially several hundred thousand.”
“I never received anything.”
Lydia looked at me.
“I swear.”
“I believe you.”
She blinked.
“You do?”
“Yes.”
That seemed to hurt her more than suspicion would have.
She pressed the heels of both hands into her eyes.
Dana said, “We need bank records.”
Lydia lowered her hands.
“I can pull them.”
“Do it with me on the line.”
She opened the laptop again.
Raymond’s phone rang.
He answered near the doorway.
His expression hardened almost immediately.
“When?”
He listened.
“Don’t touch anything.”
He ended the call.
“What happened?” I asked.
“The florist van was found.”
“Where?”
“About two miles from the property.”
“Marcus?”
“Gone.”
“Driver?”
“Gone too.”
Lydia looked up from the laptop.
“Was it crashed?”
“No.”
“Then what?”
“Left in a church parking lot.”
“Any sign where he went?”
Raymond hesitated.
“There’s blood on the passenger-side door.”
The room went silent.
Lydia stood so quickly the chair tipped backward.
“Blood?”
“Not much.”
“What does not much mean?”
“A smear.”
“Whose?”
“We don’t know.”
“Call the police.”
“They’re already on the way.”
Lydia grabbed her phone.
“I’m calling Marcus.”
Dana said, “No.”
“I don’t care.”
She dialed.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
Voicemail every time.
On the fourth attempt, someone answered.
No greeting.
Just breathing.
“Marcus?”
Lydia pressed the phone closer.
“Marcus, where are you?”
A strained sound came through.
Then his voice, barely above a whisper.
“Lyd?”
Her knees almost gave out.
I caught her elbow.
“Marcus.”
She leaned over the table.
“Where are you?”
“I messed up.”
“Where are you?”
“I need you to listen.”
“No, tell me where you are.”
“I can fix it.”
His voice shook.
“I just need your mother to stop.”
I leaned toward the phone.
“Stop what?”
He heard me.
The breathing changed.
“Eleanor.”
“Where are you?”
“You don’t understand what you started.”
“I understand my signature was forged.”
“You think this is about your signature?”
“Then explain it.”
He laughed weakly.
It sounded almost like a sob.
“I can’t.”
Lydia said, “Are you bleeding?”
Silence.
“Marcus.”
“I’m fine.”
“The van has blood in it.”
Another silence.
Then Marcus whispered, “That isn’t mine.”
Lydia stopped breathing for a moment.
“Whose is it?”
Marcus did not answer.
A low mechanical hum came through the phone, followed by the hollow clang of something metal shifting nearby.
“Marcus.”
“I said I can fix this.”
“Whose blood is in the van?”
“I don’t know.”
The lie was bad enough that even Lydia seemed to hear it.
She closed her eyes.
I said, “Where is Peter Niles?”
Silence.
Then Marcus exhaled.
“Why are you asking about Peter?”
“Because he left the wedding before the ceremony and told Lydia to preserve her messages.”
“That coward.”
Lydia opened her eyes.
“What happened to him?”
“Nothing.”
“You just called him a coward.”
“Because he ran.”
“From what?”
Marcus said nothing.
Behind us, Tessa wrote something on a yellow legal pad and turned it toward me.
KEEP HIM TALKING.
I already intended to.
“You threatened my daughter with documents that may be forged,” I said.
“That wasn’t me.”
“The number called us.”
“That wasn’t me.”
“Then who?”
Marcus’s breathing quickened.
“I don’t know.”
“You seem to know very little for a man who needed fifty thousand dollars by midnight.”
Lydia flinched at the reminder.
Marcus said, “That was never about fifty thousand.”
“No.”
I kept my voice even.
“I figured that out.”
He laughed bitterly.
“Of course you did.”
“What was it about?”
“A wire.”
“From me?”
“Yes.”
“How much?”
“Twelve.”
“Twelve million?”
Lydia stared at the phone.
Marcus continued before I could speak.
“North Harbor needed proof of liquidity before they released the second tranche.”
“What second tranche?”
“The remaining eight million.”
Tessa looked at me sharply.
Julia had said only four million had been advanced.
I said, “And you expected me to wire twelve million into what account?”
“A trust.”
“Whose trust?”
“Lydia’s.”
She whispered, “No.”
Marcus heard her.
“You knew we needed liquidity.”
“I knew you wanted Mom to help.”
“You knew more than that.”
“I knew what you told me.”
“You signed the guaranty.”
“You told me it was temporary.”
“It was supposed to be.”
“Stop saying supposed to.”
Her voice cracked so violently that even Marcus went silent.
She pressed her fist to her mouth.
I put my hand on her back.
This time she leaned into it.
Not much.
Enough.
Tessa wrote another note.
ASK LOCATION.
“Marcus,” I said, “if the blood is not yours, I am going to assume someone else is hurt.”
“No one is hurt.”
“You just said you didn’t know whose blood it was.”
A pause.
“I don’t.”
“Where are you?”
May you like
“I can’t tell you.”
“Can you get to a hospital?”
