Chương 8
“A fake invoice.”
“An altered invoice.”
“Who altered it?”
“We’re working on that.”
“Grant?”
“We’re working on that.”
Claire closed her eyes.
“Was the fifty thousand part of it?”
“I can’t tell you that.”
“Can you tell me whether Celeste is still free to walk around near children?”
Keene exhaled.
“She has been charged in connection with the conduct involving Emma.”
Claire sat very still.
“What charge?”
Keene described it in general terms rather than giving Claire the neat label she wanted. Conduct creating risk. Physical intimidation. The exact charging decisions could change.
“She was released pending proceedings,” Keene said. “There is a no-contact order regarding your daughter.”
Claire felt both relief and dissatisfaction.
It seemed too small.
Then she hated herself for wanting a larger punishment before she knew the full facts.
“Did she say anything about my accident?”
“Through counsel, she has denied causing physical harm to you.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
“I know.”
By Friday, Thomas’s lawyers had explained the trust.
The phrase She owns everything now turned out to be Thomas being Thomas.
Claire had not become the outright owner of every Mercer asset overnight.
Thomas had amended a revocable family trust and transferred voting control of several holding entities, including the LLC that owned the yacht, into a structure in which Claire held the controlling beneficial position subject to specific restrictions. Grant’s expected succession rights had been suspended.
It was still enormous.
Just less magical than the sentence on deck.
Claire sat through the explanation with Rachel and two trust attorneys.
When they finished, she said, “I want out.”
One attorney cleared his throat.
Rachel said, “She knows.”
Thomas’s counsel looked miserable.
“You can disclaim certain interests, but not necessarily in the manner you’re imagining without consequences.”
“Tax?”
“Potentially. Governance too. The company has debt covenants. There are minority investors. Some transfers could trigger review.”
Claire looked at Thomas.
“So you made me responsible for something I never agreed to.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Thomas looked older than he had on the yacht.
“Because if Grant controlled the votes Monday morning, he could remove internal officers, alter retention policies, and put pressure on employees who might be witnesses.”
Claire frowned.
“You changed the trust to preserve evidence.”
“In part.”
“Why not tell investigators first?”
“I did both.”
“When?”
“After I found the payment pattern.”
“That was three weeks ago.”
“Yes.”
Claire stared at him.
“You were investigating your son privately.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Thomas rubbed his jaw.
“Because the first irregularities involved company money. I did not know what they meant.”
“And when did you start thinking about my accident?”
“Five days before the party.”
Claire looked away.
Five days.
For almost a week, Thomas had suspected something about the worst night of her life and had continued speaking to her about menu choices for the yacht benefit.
Human beings were extraordinary that way.
They could hold horror in one hand and discuss appetizers with the other.
“I’m not running your company,” she said.
“No one is asking you to.”
“You handed me votes.”
“Temporarily, if you want.”
Claire looked at Rachel.
Rachel said, “You can appoint independent directors. You can also decline day-to-day involvement.”
Thomas nodded.
“I suggest independent governance until the investigations are complete.”
Claire bristled.
“You suggest.”
“I’m trying.”
“That’s your problem. You always think trying means managing.”
Thomas took the criticism without protest.
For once, that did not make Claire feel better.
A week after the yacht incident, Owen Pike came back to Rhode Island.
Claire did not meet him immediately.
Detective Keene spoke to him first.
Then Rachel arranged a meeting in her office after confirming it would not interfere with the investigation.
Owen arrived wearing work boots and carrying a baseball cap he never put on.
He had been twenty-eight at the time of the accident.
Claire remembered him mostly as hands in dark water.
Hands under her arms.
Hands pressing towels against what remained of her leg.
Now he looked smaller than memory had made him.
“Hi,” he said.
“Hi.”
He stared at her prosthetic.
Then immediately stared at the floor.
“Sorry.”
“It’s still there whether you look.”
He gave a quick, embarrassed smile.
“I didn’t know if I was supposed to.”
“People never do.”
They sat.
Owen turned the cap between his hands.
“I should have called you.”
“Yes.”
He looked up, surprised.
Claire said, “You were expecting me to tell you it was okay.”
“A little.”
“It’s not.”
“No.”
“Why didn’t you?”
Owen breathed out.
“Because they told me the latch had failed and I kept thinking maybe I should’ve caught it.”
“You were on the helm.”
“I checked the gate before departure.”
Claire went still.
“You checked it?”
“Twice.”
“Why twice?”
“Because Emma was aboard.”
The room seemed to narrow.
Owen continued.
“Any kid on the boat, I did a second walk. Gates, vests, fuel shutoff, all of it. My old captain drilled it into me.”
“Did you tell investigators that?”
“Yes.”
Claire looked at Rachel.
Rachel had heard this from Keene but had not told her.
Good.
Claire needed to stop expecting everyone to feed her every fact the moment it existed.
Owen rubbed the brim of the cap.
“There’s more.”
Claire waited.
“Mr. Mercer came down to the tender before we left.”
“Grant?”
“Yeah.”
“When?”
“Maybe forty minutes before departure. You were still at dinner.”
“Why?”
“He said he left something aboard.”
“What?”
“I don’t know.”
“Did you see him near the gate?”
Owen hesitated.
“Not exactly.”
Claire felt frustration rise.
Owen saw it.
“I was fueling from the dock. I saw him aft. That’s all.”
“Why didn’t you tell investigators?”
“I did tell company counsel.”
Claire’s chest tightened.
“Company counsel.”
“They interviewed us the next morning.”
“Before the Coast Guard?”
“Before I talked to them, yeah.”
“What did the lawyer say?”
“That Mr. Mercer had been picking up a laptop.”
“Did you see a laptop?”
“No.”
“Did you tell the Coast Guard he had been there?”
Owen looked down.
“No.”
May you like
“Why?”
“Because I was twenty-eight and everybody kept saying I’d probably lose my license.”
