Chương 15
Then Naomi’s phone rang.
She listened.
Asked two questions.
Wrote down a name.
When she ended the call, she did not immediately look at Claire.
“What?”
Naomi removed her glasses.
“The lender’s attorney contacted me.”
“And?”
“The forged spousal guarantee was not the only document carrying your signature.”
Claire felt the coffee cup stop halfway to her mouth.
“How many?”
“At least four.”
Claire set the cup down carefully.
“What are the others?”
“A personal net-worth statement.
A consent to pledge certain investment assets.
And an acknowledgment stating that you were aware of Front Range’s debts.”
Claire stared at her.
“I never signed any of those.”
“I believe you.”
Claire’s pulse began climbing again.
Naomi continued.
“The net-worth statement is dated August.”
Claire searched the calendar in her head.
August.
Before she knew she was pregnant.
Before Ryan’s sudden interest in joining her financial-planning meetings.
Before Grant started talking about Lakewood as the project that would finally make him whole.
“How long has this been going on?”
Naomi shook her head.
“I don’t know.”
Claire looked at the black drive Brooke had left behind.
Three weeks of secrets.
Eleven months of transfers.
Fourteen months of Ryan being listed with Front Range.
Maybe longer.
She had been measuring betrayal from the cigarette backward.
Now the line kept extending.
Naomi’s phone buzzed with an incoming email.
She opened it.
Her eyes moved once across the screen.
Then again.
“What?”
“The lender sent the August statement.”
Claire stood beside her.
The document listed Claire’s assets with remarkable accuracy.
Penthouse value.
Brokerage balance.
Retirement funds.
Private equity interests.
Even the approximate value of stock scheduled to vest the following year.
Only one section was wrong.
Marital status of assets.
The form represented nearly everything as jointly controlled.
At the bottom sat Claire’s copied signature.
Beside it was Ryan’s.
And under witness verification appeared a third name.
Diane Mercer.
Claire stared at it.
For the first time since New Year’s dinner, she stopped thinking of Diane as the woman who had failed to intervene.
She began thinking of her as someone who might have been participating long before Grant ever lit the cigarette.
Claire read Diane’s name again until the letters stopped looking like a person.
Naomi enlarged the witness section.
The signature beside Diane’s printed name was different from Claire’s copied one.
It looked natural.
Uneven.
Pressed hard enough that the scan showed a faint indentation from the original page.
“Could hers be forged too?” Claire asked.
“Could be.”
Naomi did not sound convinced.
Claire picked up her phone.
She did not call Diane.
Instead she forwarded the document to Detective Ortiz.
Ortiz responded ten minutes later with a request that Claire not contact any of the Mercers about the signatures.
The restraint annoyed Claire even though she understood it.
Every new discovery made her want to force someone to explain.
Every practical person around her kept saying the same thing in different language.
Wait.
Preserve.
Document.
Do not hand them an escape route.
By the afternoon, Claire was back in an examination room listening to her baby’s heartbeat.
Her obstetrician, Dr. Patel, examined the burn, reviewed the hospital notes, and asked questions Claire wished no physician ever had to ask.
“Do you have somewhere safe to stay?”
“Yes.”
“Does your husband know where?”
Claire hesitated.
“He can probably figure it out.”
Dr. Patel looked over her glasses.
“Probably is not my favorite word today.”
Claire almost smiled.
“He hasn’t come here.”
“Good.”
The baby moved while Dr. Patel measured Claire’s abdomen.
For several minutes, the room contained nothing except ordinary prenatal instructions.
Hydration.
Rest.
Monitoring movement.
Calling immediately for bleeding, contractions, unusual pain, or decreased fetal activity.
Claire wrote everything down even though she already knew most of it.
Writing gave her hands something useful to do.
When she left, Detective Ortiz was waiting in the lobby.
Claire’s stomach tightened.
“Something happened.”
Ortiz motioned toward a quieter hallway.
“Brooke completed her interview.”
“Is she in trouble?”
“We’re evaluating what she told us with the financial investigators.”
That was not an answer, which Claire had learned was often the most honest answer available.
Ortiz continued.
“She also provided the video.”
Claire nodded.
“And the laptop?”
“Preserved.”
“Did you find the encrypted folder?”
Ortiz’s expression gave nothing away.
“The financial unit is working with appropriate forensic personnel.”
Claire understood the boundary.
“What about Diane?”
Ortiz glanced around before speaking.
“Your mother-in-law came in voluntarily.”
Claire stopped.
“She did?”
“Yes.”
“What did she say?”
“I can’t give you her full interview.”
“Did she sign that document?”
Ortiz hesitated.
“She acknowledged signing papers for Grant on several occasions.”
Claire’s throat tightened.
“Papers with my name on them?”
“She said Grant told her they were family financing documents that you and Ryan had already approved.”
Claire laughed quietly.
It sounded tired.
“So she didn’t read them.”
“She says she did not.”
“Do you believe her?”
Ortiz looked at Claire.
“That isn’t a useful question for me to answer right now.”
Claire pressed her tongue against the inside of her cheek.
“What is useful?”
“Evidence.”
Of course.
Ortiz shifted the notebook beneath her arm.
“There is evidence suggesting your husband created at least some of the documents from his laptop.”
Claire felt the hallway change around her.
Not because she was surprised.
Because suspicion had become something more solid.
“What kind of evidence?”
“Draft versions.
File metadata.
We’re still verifying.”
“And Grant?”
“Emails tie him to discussions about amounts and timing.”
Claire leaned against the wall.
“And Diane?”
“Less clear.”
That bothered Claire more than she expected.
Diane had watched Grant burn her.
Part of Claire wanted the financial case to make everyone equally guilty.
Reality refused to organize itself that neatly.
Ortiz looked at Claire’s face.
“There’s also the assault investigation.”
“What happens there?”
“Evidence will be submitted to the district attorney’s office.”
“Ryan held me.”
“Yes.”
“Grant burned me.”
“Yes.”
“And they just go home?”
Ortiz did not flinch.
May you like
“Not necessarily.
But I’m not going to promise you an outcome before charging decisions are made.”
