Chương 9
The accountants dug deeper.
By Wednesday morning, they found the answer.
NH Strategic Services had not simply received money.
It had returned some.
Payments went out from Cole Meridian.
Different payments came back into private investment entities connected to Victoria.
Smaller amounts.
Structured differently.
Enough to create the appearance of legitimate outside gains.
Nathan stared at the report.
“She was stealing.”
James stood beside him.
“Apparently.”
“How much?”
“Current estimate is between five and seven million attributable to her.”
Nathan laughed once.
James looked at him.
“Sorry.”
“What’s funny?”
“She negotiated her last compensation package for six months.”
James waited.
Nathan shook his head.
“She nearly left because we wouldn’t increase her equity grant.”
“Perhaps greed and thrift can coexist.”
Nathan looked over.
James’s face remained perfectly serious.
Nathan laughed again.
It felt wrong.
Then, unexpectedly, necessary.
James handed him another page.
“There’s more.”
A personal transfer.
Two hundred fifty thousand dollars from Daniel Cross to Victoria Lane.
Dated four days before Claire’s crash.
Memo field:
FINAL PHASE.
Nathan stared at it.
The laughter disappeared.
“What does that mean?”
“We don’t know.”
“Alvarez?”
“Already has it.”
Nathan looked toward Claire’s room.
“Don’t tell Emma.”
James’s expression softened almost invisibly.
“I wasn’t planning to.”
Claire was discharged Thursday afternoon.
She left St. Augustine in a wheelchair because hospital policy required it and complained about the policy from her room to the curb.
Nathan walked beside her.
Emma carried the plastic bag containing Claire’s discharge papers and took the responsibility so seriously she would not let anyone else touch it.
They did not return to the mansion.
Police had finished processing the relevant areas, but Claire refused.
“I don’t want to walk into that dining room.”
Nathan nodded.
“We can stay somewhere else.”
“I don’t want another hotel.”
“Apartment?”
“No.”
“Connecticut house?”
“Too far.”
Claire looked at him.
“What?”
“You’re listing properties.”
“I’m solving the problem.”
“You’re inventorying real estate.”
“Related skill.”
Despite herself, she smiled.
They rented a furnished townhouse belonging to a friend in Brooklyn Heights.
Nathan had not spent more than four consecutive nights in Brooklyn since he was twenty-six.
The townhouse had narrow stairs, unreliable water pressure, and a refrigerator that made a knocking sound every forty minutes.
Emma loved it immediately.
Her bedroom had a small window overlooking the backs of other buildings.
She could see laundry hanging from a fire escape.
“People actually dry clothes outside,” she told Nathan.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Sun.”
She looked unconvinced.
Nathan discovered the nearest grocery store did not keep the brand of coffee he liked.
Claire told him this was character-building.
He bought the other coffee.
The first morning, he made it too strong and drank it anyway.
Claire sat at the kitchen table with her injured ankle elevated on another chair.
She wore one of Nathan’s old college sweatshirts because her ribs made tighter clothing uncomfortable.
Emma ate cereal.
For eleven minutes, nobody talked about Daniel.
It was the best eleven minutes Nathan had experienced all week.
Then Claire said, “I remember the garage.”
Nathan set his mug down.
Emma looked up.
Claire immediately regretted speaking.
“Sweetheart,” she said, “go brush your teeth.”
“I already did.”
Nathan looked at her.
Emma corrected herself.
“I was going to.”
When she left, Claire stared into her coffee.
Nathan waited.
“The foundation office garage,” she said.
“Thursday?”
“Yes.”
“What happened?”
“I came down from my office.”
“Alone?”
“Yes.”
“I thought you left at six.”
“I did.”
“What time was this?”
“Maybe six-ten.”
Nathan stayed silent.
Claire pressed her fingers against her temple.
“I was angry.”
“At who?”
“You.”
He blinked.
“Why?”
“I’d found the North Harbor payments.”
“Before the crash.”
“Yes.”
“Did you call me?”
“Three times.”
Nathan took out his phone.
The missed calls were still there.
Thursday.
6:12.
6:14.
6:19.
He had been at a board dinner.
His phone had been on Do Not Disturb.
Claire watched his face.
“Don’t do that.”
“What?”
“Make it about missing the calls.”
“I missed the calls.”
“Yes.”
“That matters.”
“It matters less than what happened next.”
Nathan put the phone down.
Claire looked toward the hallway.
“I got to my car.”
Her voice slowed.
“There was someone standing near it.”
Nathan did not move.
“Daniel?”
“I think so.”
“What was he wearing?”
“Burgundy.”
Nathan’s jaw tightened.
“What did he say?”
“I don’t remember all of it.”
“Anything?”
Claire closed her eyes.
“He said I was making something bigger than it was.”
Nathan felt a small chill.
“That sounds like him.”
“He wanted my laptop.”
“Did you give it to him?”
“No.”
“What happened?”
“I got into the car.”
“Was he inside?”
“No.”
“Then how did his cuff link get under the passenger seat?”
Claire opened her eyes.
“I don’t know.”
Nathan leaned forward.
“Could he have gotten in later?”
“I don’t know.”
“Could someone else—”
“Nathan.”
He stopped.
Claire looked exhausted.
“I am not a database.”
He sat back.
“I know.”
“No, you know that as a sentence. You don’t act like you know it.”
Nathan stared at his coffee.
Claire exhaled.
“I remember being scared.”
He looked up.
“He came close to the window. I locked the door.”
“What did he say?”
“I don’t know.”
She pressed her lips together.
Then her eyes widened slightly.
“He said Victoria had told him I would be reasonable.”
Nathan felt his stomach tighten.
Claire whispered, “That’s why I called her.”
“Victoria?”
“From the car.”
“After Daniel approached you?”
“Yes.”
“What did she say?”
Claire looked sick.
“She told me Daniel was bluffing.”
Nathan stood.
“What?”
“She knew he was there.”
“Claire.”
“I know.”
“She knew he was physically at your car?”
“I think so.”
“What else?”
“She told me to go home.”
Nathan’s voice became very quiet.
“And then?”
“I drove.”
The room seemed colder.
Claire looked down at her hands.
“I remember getting onto the highway.”
Her breathing quickened.
“I remember feeling strange.”
Nathan crouched beside her chair.
“Stop.”
“I need to remember.”
“No. Not like this.”
“You wanted details yesterday.”
May you like
“I was wrong.”
“That’s getting repetitive.”
