Chương 9
A reporter photographed Claire leaving Miriam’s office.
Online strangers decided Claire had known about Natalie and Ethan.
Others decided Daniel killed Natalie and framed everyone.
A true-crime account posted side-by-side photos of Claire and Natalie under the title THE TWO WOMEN ETHAN MORGAN COULDN’T CHOOSE BETWEEN.
Claire saw it at 2 a.m.
She threw her phone onto the bed.
Then picked it up and reported the account.
It made no difference.
At work, her manager asked her to take temporary paid leave because her name had become connected to a financial investigation.
“We are not accusing you of anything,” he said.
Claire sat across from him in a glass conference room.
“I understand.”
“We just need to avoid conflicts while compliance reviews your access.”
“I am compliance.”
He looked uncomfortable.
“I know.”
That hurt more than she expected.
Her job had always been the place where rules made sense.
A transaction either had documentation or did not.
A risk was identified, escalated, mitigated.
Human beings were messier, but spreadsheets behaved.
Now Claire was a risk category.
She packed a small cardboard box.
A mug.
Two notebooks.
A photograph of her mother.
A tiny ceramic cactus somebody had given her during Secret Santa.
In the elevator, she stared at the cactus.
Then laughed.
The security guard looked at her.
“Sorry,” she said.
“No problem.”
She carried her career into the parking lot in a box small enough for printer paper.
Daniel called that afternoon.
“I heard.”
“Everybody heard.”
“You okay?”
“No.”
“Want company?”
Claire nearly said no.
Then she said, “Bring food.”
“What kind?”
“I don’t care.”
“That’s not useful.”
“Anything that isn’t grilled cheese.”
He arrived with Thai takeout.
They ate on the floor of Claire’s temporary rental because she had finally left the hotel and signed a short-term lease on a furnished apartment.
Daniel stared at the plastic fork in his hand.
“I hate cilantro.”
Claire looked at him.
“You ordered cilantro.”
“I forgot.”
She began to laugh.
Daniel looked offended.
Then he laughed too.
For thirty seconds, Natalie was dead, Ethan was charged, Paul was missing, Rebecca was in custody, Claire’s job was uncertain, and both of them were laughing because Daniel had ordered food he hated.
Then the laughter ended.
Daniel looked at the containers.
“I should’ve seen it.”
Claire knew immediately what he meant.
“The fraud?”
“All of it.”
“No.”
“She asked me about Northway.”
“You forgot signing a vendor form while caring for your father.”
“She told me something was wrong.”
“What did you do?”
“I told her I was tired.”
Claire said nothing.
Daniel rubbed his hands together.
“She said, ‘You’re always tired when I need you to listen.’”
His voice broke slightly.
He stared at the floor until it passed.
“I told her that wasn’t fair.”
“Was it?”
“No.”
Claire looked at him.
“That doesn’t mean you killed her.”
“I know.”
“Doesn’t mean you caused it either.”
“I know.”
“You don’t sound like you know.”
Daniel gave her a tired look.
“That line yours or borrowed?”
“Borrowed from you.”
He almost smiled.
Then his phone buzzed.
He checked it.
His face changed.
“What?”
He turned the screen toward Claire.
A message from Detective Ortiz.
We found Paul.
Paul Hensley was alive.
He had been staying in a motel under another name eighty miles north.
He was arrested on fraud charges.
Three days later, he agreed to talk.
What he said destroyed the simple story again.
Paul admitted creating false vendors.
He admitted moving money.
He admitted Rebecca helped him.
But he denied killing Natalie.
More importantly, he claimed Natalie had joined the scheme first.
According to Paul, Natalie began diverting funds five years earlier during a period when Reed Property Management was close to insolvency.
At first, she used hidden accounts to make payroll.
Then to cover property repairs.
Then the boundary blurred.
Paul helped.
Later Rebecca discovered what they were doing and demanded money.
The theft expanded.
Eventually Natalie wanted out.
Paul said he told her to confess.
Rebecca said confession would expose all of them.
Daniel refused to believe any of it.
Claire was not sure.
Then Detective Ortiz showed Daniel copies of bank records bearing Natalie’s authorization.
Not forged.
At least preliminary examination suggested they were genuine.
Daniel called Claire that night.
“She did it.”
Claire sat on her couch.
“Maybe.”
“No. She did.”
His breathing was uneven.
“She stole from our company.”
“Sounds like she may have started by trying to save it.”
“That doesn’t matter.”
“It matters. It doesn’t excuse it.”
“I spent eleven months turning her into a saint because she was dead.”
Claire stayed quiet.
Daniel continued.
“I yelled at my brother because he said she could be difficult.”
“Grief does strange things.”
“I made people stop being honest about her.”
“You were surviving.”
“I don’t want that excuse.”
Claire understood.
She had stopped wanting excuses too.
A week later, prosecutors dropped the obstruction charge against Ethan and refiled a narrower evidence-tampering case.
His lawyer negotiated.
Ethan had concealed the ring, deleted messages, and failed to disclose financial transfers.
But investigators now believed Rebecca had deliberately used him to create a false postmortem sighting of Natalie.
The central question remained.
Who killed Natalie?
Paul said Rebecca.
Rebecca said Paul.
Each had motive.
Each had lied.
Each had access.
Neither confession could be trusted.
Then Claire found the receipt.
Not because she was investigating.
Because she was moving.
She had returned to the apartment she shared with Ethan to collect her belongings while he stayed with his brother.
Miriam had arranged the timing.
Claire packed clothes first.
Then books.
Then kitchen things.
She was emptying the junk drawer when she found an old pharmacy receipt folded beneath batteries.
She almost threw it away.
Then she noticed the date.
The day Natalie died.
The purchase had been made at 9:17 p.m.
Store location: Franklin Street.
Items: gauze, antiseptic spray, disposable gloves, pain reliever.
Payment card ending 4412.
Claire knew that number.
May you like
Daniel’s business card.
She sat on the kitchen floor.
