Chương 3
Claire answered before Daniel could.
“Eleven weeks.”
The paramedic nodded and continued writing.
Daniel looked away.
Claire was taken to a hospital in Monterey for evaluation. Daniel was placed in a different ambulance after Walter told a deputy there had been possible tampering.
Daniel objected.
Not loudly.
That made it worse.
“My wife is pregnant.”
“And she’s being treated.”
“I need to go with her.”
The deputy said, “Sir, right now I need everybody separated until we understand what happened.”
Daniel stared at Claire.
She expected anger.
What she saw was hurt.
That irritated her more than anger would have.
“You told him,” Daniel said.
“Walter told him.”
“You think I did this.”
“I saw your hand beside the latch.”
“I was reaching for you.”
“You knew the belt was open.”
Daniel closed his eyes briefly.
The deputy looked from one to the other.
Claire waited.
Daniel opened his eyes.
“This is not where we should have this conversation.”
“Then where?”
He glanced at the paramedic.
Claire almost laughed.
Even after almost falling out of a helicopter, Daniel Bennett still wanted the right conference room for bad news.
She climbed into the ambulance.
“Apparently nowhere.”
The doors closed between them.
At the hospital, the first thing Claire asked was whether the baby still had a heartbeat.
The second thing she asked was whether her husband had been admitted.
She hated herself slightly for asking the second question.
The nurse did not comment.
Daniel had minor bruising and a cut on his hand. Walter had strained his right shoulder. Claire had bruising along her hip and forearm, a shallow cut near her knee and a pulse that remained annoyingly high even after two cups of water.
The ultrasound technician turned the screen.
“There.”
A small rapid flicker.
Claire stared.
Her whole body seemed to lose weight.
She covered her face for several seconds.
No dramatic sob came. She had no energy for one.
When she lowered her hands, the technician politely pretended to be interested in the machine.
“Looks appropriate for where you are,” she said. “The doctor will talk to you about everything.”
“Thank you.”
Claire lay back.
The fluorescent light above her buzzed faintly.
Someone rolled a cart down the hallway.
A patient in another room complained that his phone charger had disappeared.
Life had continued.
Claire found that almost offensive.
Her phone had accumulated thirty-eight messages by the time she was released from imaging.
Most were from Nora.
CALL ME.
CALL ME NOW.
ARE YOU SAFE?
I SPOKE TO SHERIFF.
DO NOT LEAVE WITH DANIEL.
Then one from Evelyn Bennett, Daniel’s mother.
Thank God you’re alive. Gavin is handling everything. Stay calm and do not speak to anyone until counsel arrives.
Claire read it twice.
Gavin is handling everything.
She showed it to Nora when Nora finally reached her by phone.
“Who’s Gavin?” Nora asked.
“You’ve met him.”
“I’ve met approximately eight hundred men named things like Gavin since you married Daniel.”
“Gavin Mercer. CFO.”
“The silver-haired one?”
“Forty-six. Not silver.”
“He acts silver-haired.”
Despite herself, Claire smiled.
Nora heard it.
“Good. You’re still in there.”
“Don’t start.”
“I won’t.”
Claire looked through the hospital-room door.
A deputy stood near the nurses’ station.
“Nora.”
“Yeah.”
“Evelyn says Gavin is handling everything.”
A pause.
“So?”
“How does Gavin know there’s something to handle?”
Another pause.
“He knows there was an emergency landing.”
“No. Her wording.”
“Claire.”
“She didn’t say the helicopter. She didn’t say Walter. She said Gavin is handling everything.”
“That could mean insurance. Company lawyers. Transportation.”
“It could.”
“You don’t believe that.”
Claire picked at the edge of the hospital wristband.
“No.”
“What did you find before this flight?”
Claire stopped picking.
That was the question Daniel had been avoiding for three days.
She had found a payment.
Not a dramatic one.
That was the problem.
Fraud rarely introduced itself as fraud. It preferred words like consulting, facilitation, advisory, transition, strategic services.
The Bennett Group had paid $2.8 million over eighteen months to a company called Westmere Advisory.
Claire had seen the name while reviewing charitable disbursement conflicts for the family foundation. Westmere should never have appeared in foundation records at all.
It had.
Three invoices.
No detailed scope.
No named consultant.
No work product.
One payment had been temporarily routed through an account controlled by the foundation before someone reversed it two days later and pushed it through a holding subsidiary.
Claire had asked Daniel.
Daniel had said he did not know.
Then he had asked how she found it.
Not what it was.
How.
That answer had stayed with her.
“I found Westmere,” Claire said.
Nora went quiet.
Claire had told her the name two days earlier.
“Did Daniel know you were taking it outside the family?”
“He knew I had questions.”
“Claire.”
“He knew.”
“Did he know you were meeting me today?”
Claire looked toward the door again.
“Yes.”
The meeting had been the reason for the helicopter flight.
Nora was attending a conference in Santa Barbara. Claire had suggested coffee. Daniel had suggested she use the helicopter because he needed to inspect a property south of Monterey and could drop her on the way.
Convenient.
Efficient.
Very Daniel.
“Do not leave that hospital with him,” Nora said.
“I’m not planning to.”
“And don’t give your phone to family security.”
“I know.”
“Change your passcode.”
Claire almost said Daniel did not know it.
Then she remembered the location-sharing app their security team had installed after a stalking incident involving one of the Bennett Foundation’s donors.
“Okay.”
“Also—”
Claire heard voices outside.
Daniel’s voice.
Then another.
Smooth, low and familiar.
Gavin Mercer.
Claire stood.
Too quickly.
The room shifted slightly.
She steadied herself against the bed rail.
“Nora.”
“What?”
“He’s here.”
“Daniel?”
“Gavin.”
“How?”
May you like
Claire watched Gavin appear in the doorway behind a hospital administrator.
He wore charcoal trousers, a white shirt and no tie. His jacket was folded over one arm. He looked exactly as he did when he arrived late to board meetings: apologetic without appearing hurried.
