Chương 4
For several seconds, the room seemed to lose its shape around me.I kept looking at the dead woman’s name as if the date might rearrange itself into something harmless.Nina spoke first.“How did Mercer obtain the journal?”Jonathan rested both hands on the table.“The notary commission records were reviewed after our document team flagged an irregularity in the seal.”“What irregularity?”“The commission number belonged to Sloan, but the stamp format was issued after her death.”Lena turned another page toward us.“The state database showed her commission terminated eleven months before the acknowledgment date.”I touched the edge of the plastic sleeve without lifting it.“So somebody used her name.”“That appears likely,” Jonathan said.“And my father’s signature?”“We don’t know.”Nina looked at me.“Claire, did Frank ever sign blank pages?”“No.”I answered too fast.Then I remembered the rehab forms.Insurance authorizations.Physical therapy releases.Dad getting furious because everything required three signatures and a witness.He used to sign where Daniel or I pointed.Sometimes without reading because his vision blurred when he was tired.My certainty cracked.“He signed a lot of medical paperwork after the stroke,” I said.“Could Evan have been present?”“Yes.”The word scraped coming out.Evan had visited Dad almost every day during rehab.I used to think it was loyalty.I had praised him for it.Nina asked, “Did he ever bring business documents?”“I don’t know.”“You weren’t there every visit?”“No.”I looked down.“I was still working.”That was another sentence I had used to defend myself for months.I was still working.I was handling our home.I was coordinating Dad’s appointments.I was trying to keep Daniel from quitting his job to manage everything.All of that was true.It also did not change what I had missed.Lena closed her notebook.“We need to know whether your father can confirm signing the guarantee.”“He can speak.”“Reliably?”My throat tightened.“Some days.”Nina intervened.“We’re not interviewing him without preparation.”Jonathan nodded.“We’re not asking you to do that today.”“Good.”“But we do need to preserve the issue.”Nina turned to him.“What has Mercer done so far?”“Suspended new advances, blocked the wire, and placed additional review requirements on outgoing transfers above fifty thousand.”“Did you notify Evan?”“Only that the wire is under review.”“Did he respond?”Lena’s mouth tightened.“Four calls in thirty minutes.”That sounded like him.When Evan felt powerless, he manufactured urgency until everyone else became exhausted enough to surrender.My phone buzzed against the table.Kelsey.I ignored it.Then it buzzed again.Kelsey.Again.Nina glanced at the screen.“You should probably find out what she wants.”“I can guess.”“Guessing has been expensive today.”I answered.“What?”Kelsey’s breathing came quick and shallow.“Where is Evan?”I looked at Nina.“I assumed he was with you.”“He left.”“When?”“Maybe twenty minutes ago.”“Why are you calling me?”“Because he took my car.”I almost told her that sounded like a personal problem.Something in her voice stopped me.“Kelsey, where are you?”“At his office.”“Is Barbara there?”“She left too.”“Together?”“No.”I heard a door close behind her.Then her voice dropped.“Claire, what is Granite Peak?”My fingers tightened around the phone.“Why?”“Barbara said Evan shouldn’t have used it.”Lena looked at me sharply.I put the call on speaker.Nina leaned closer.“Kelsey,” I said, “tell me exactly what you heard.”“I don’t know exactly.”“Do your best.”“They were arguing.”“Who?”“Evan and Barbara.”“About?”“The transfer.”My pulse climbed.“Did they say where the money was going?”“Barbara kept saying it wasn’t supposed to happen today.”Nina started writing.Kelsey continued.“She said, ‘You were supposed to wait until after payroll.’”I closed my eyes briefly.“What did Evan say?”“That the bank was already tightening things.”“And?”“He said he needed to move before you did.”The room went very quiet.Kelsey’s voice trembled.“I asked him what he meant, and he told me to go downstairs.”“Did you?”“No.”That surprised me enough to open my eyes.“Why not?”She gave a tiny, angry laugh.“Because apparently I’m not as stupid as everybody thinks.”Nobody answered.I could picture her standing in the polished hallway at Hawthorne, one hand on her stomach, the diamond ring still somewhere in her purse.“Where is Evan now?” Nina asked.“I don’t know.”“Did he take any files?”“Yes.”“What kind?”“A banker’s box.”The same one Martin had mentioned.“What was in it?” I asked.“I didn’t see.”“Did Barbara bring it?”“Yes.”“And Evan took it?”“Yes.”“Where?”“I said I don’t know.”Her voice broke on the last word.Then she recovered.“He said he had to fix something before Mercer made it impossible.”Jonathan and Lena exchanged a look.I stood.Nina immediately said, “Claire.”“He may be going to First Federal.”“That’s an assumption.”“He took Kelsey’s car because he didn’t want to use his own.”“Also an assumption.”Kelsey interrupted.“No.”We all looked at the phone.“What?” I asked.“He said his car has tracking.”My stomach tightened.“Tracking by whom?”“The company.”Daniel had insisted on installing fleet-location software on executive vehicles after two company SUVs were stolen from a construction site.Evan had complained for months that it was invasive.I had forgotten.“What kind of car do you drive?” Nina asked.“A white Lexus.”“Plate?”Kelsey gave it to her.Nina wrote it down but did not move.“We are not chasing him.”“I didn’t say we were.”“You were standing like someone about to chase him.”Jonathan lifted a hand.“For what it’s worth, I strongly recommend nobody attempt to follow Mr. Hawthorne.”I sat again.Kelsey was still on the line.“Claire.”“Yes?”“What is going on?”The question held no accusation this time.Only fear.For months, I had hated her with an efficiency that spared me from having to imagine her as a whole person.She was the woman who slept with my husband.The woman who got pregnant.The woman whose ultrasound picture I found hidden in a folder labeled Vendor Renewals on our shared computer.It had been easier when that was all she was.Now she sounded twenty-nine.Too young for the expression on her voice.“Evan may have been moving company money without authorization,” I said.“May have?”“Yes.”“Did you know?”“I knew there were problems.”“Since when?”“Months.”Her silence sharpened.“And you didn’t tell me.”The accusation was almost funny.I looked at Nina, who looked away.“No,” I said.“Why would I?”Kelsey inhaled.“You knew I was having his baby.”“Yes.”“Exactly.”“That did not make you my responsibility.”The moment the words left my mouth, I regretted them.Not because they were false.Because they were cruel in the particular way truths can become cruel when sharpened.Kelsey stopped breathing for a second.Then she said, “Right.”I pressed my fingers to my temple.“Kelsey.”“No, you’re right.”“That’s not what I meant.”“It is.”She sniffed once.“I’m just finally hearing everybody clearly today.”Nina scribbled something on her legal pad and turned it toward me.KEEP HER TALKING.I resisted the urge to glare at her.“Kelsey, did Evan leave anything behind?”“Like what?”“Documents, a laptop, his phone, anything unusual.”“His laptop is here.”“Don’t touch it.”“I already did.”Nina’s head snapped up.“What did you do?” she asked.“Who is that?”“My attorney.”“Oh, fantastic.”“What did you do with the laptop?”“I tried to open it.”“Did you?”“Yes.”Nina went pale.“How?”“I know his password.”“What did you access?”“Email.”“Do not open anything else.”“Why?”“Because if this becomes litigation or a criminal investigation, I do not want anyone accusing you of altering or destroying data.”Kelsey went silent.Then she whispered, “Criminal?”I hated the fear in that word.I hated Evan for putting it there.“What did you see?” I asked.“One email.”“From whom?”“Barbara.”“About what?”“I don’t know.”“You just said you opened it.”“I read it, Claire.”“Then what did it say?”Her voice dropped further.“It said, ‘Your father kept the originals because he never trusted you.’”My heart struck hard against my ribs.“Whose father?”“I don’t know.”“Was there more?”“Yes.”“What?”“Barbara wrote, ‘If Claire finds the red file, everything falls apart.’”Nobody in the conference room moved.The red file.Dad had used red folders for only one category of records.Personal ownership documents.Not operations.Not taxes.Not property management.Ownership.When I was sixteen, I once spilled orange soda over one and thought he was going to disown me.“Claire?” Nina said.“I know what she means.”“Where would Frank keep it?”I saw my father’s house in my mind.The downstairs den.The oak desk he had refused to replace after the stroke because, according to him, new furniture was made from compressed garbage.The locked drawer.Daniel and I had emptied it when we moved the medical bed in.Tax receipts.Old insurance policies.A revolver Dad had inherited from his brother, which Daniel had immediately secured elsewhere.No red file.Then another image surfaced.Not the den.The garage.Dad standing on a stepladder three summers ago, swearing while he pushed a metal document case onto the shelf above his workbench.I had asked why he kept business records in a garage.He said they weren’t business records.“His house,” I said.Nina closed her folder.“Where exactly?”“I’m not sure.”That was partly true.I was sure enough to be frightened.My phone chimed with another incoming call.Daniel.I answered immediately.“Where are you?”“At Dad’s.”I stood again.“Why?”His voice sounded wrong.“I came to check on him.”“What happened?”“Nothing happened to Dad.”I heard movement, then the scrape of something heavy.“Daniel.”“Claire, somebody’s been in the garage.”My stomach dropped.“When?”“I don’t know.”“What’s missing?”“I’m still looking.”“Is the metal case above the workbench there?”Silence.Then, “What metal case?”“Gray, maybe two feet wide, with black latches.”Another silence.I heard him walking.Then the garage door creaked somewhere on his end.“Claire.”“What?”“There’s an empty space in the dust on the top shelf.”
