Chapter 6
The black case changed everything.
Police opened it under documented evidence procedures.
Inside were company records.
Copies of my estate plan.
Photographs of my passport.
A duplicate of my electronic signature certificate.
And a folder with one handwritten word across the front.
LILY.
My hands went cold when Detective Bennett showed it to me.
“What’s inside?”
“We’re still documenting it.”
“That’s my daughter’s name.”
“I know.”
“Open it.”
She looked at me.
“Ethan.”
“Please.”
She nodded to an evidence technician.
Inside were printed copies of Lily’s medical insurance information.
Her birth certificate.
Her Social Security application.
A copy of the trust document naming her as beneficiary of my shares.
And a life insurance policy.
Mine.
Twenty-five million dollars.
The beneficiary had originally been Vanessa.
But after Lily’s birth, I had changed it.
Seventy percent to Lily’s trust.
Thirty percent to Vanessa.
Someone had highlighted the change.
Beside it, Grant had written:
TRIGGER DATE: BIRTH.
My mother sat down hard.
“Oh my God.”
I stared at the page.
“What does that mean?”
My attorney answered carefully.
“It may simply refer to the date the beneficiary change became effective.”
“Simply?”
Nobody answered.
I turned to Detective Bennett.
“You think they were planning to kill me?”
“I’m not going to speculate.”
“He asked about my shares if I died.”
“I know.”
“He forged my signature.”
“I know.”
“He was having an affair with my wife.”
“Yes.”
“And he has my life insurance documents in a private case.”
“All of that is significant.”
I wanted certainty.
She wouldn’t give it.
That was probably why she was good at her job.
Then the evidence technician pulled out another item.
A prepaid phone.
Detective Bennett looked at it.
“Was this yours?”
“No.”
My mother shook her head.
Maria did too.
The phone was powered off.
Police took it.
Two hours later, they had a warrant to examine it.
By then, Grant’s SUV had been found abandoned in a parking garage in Queens.
Vanessa was not there.
Neither was Grant.
I stood beside Lily’s crib in my mother’s nursery, watching her sleep while every possible nightmare moved through my head.
Was Vanessa in danger?
Part of me hated her.
Part of me wanted her found safely.
Not because she was my wife.
That word meant nothing now.
Because she knew the truth.
And because no matter what she had done, Grant did not get to silence her.
My mother stood in the doorway.
“I should have told you.”
I didn’t turn.
“You’ve said that.”
“I mean about Grant.”
“What about him?”
She came inside.
“He has always hated that you were chosen to run the company.”
I looked at her.
“He was twenty-three when Dad named me successor.”
“He never got over it.”
“That doesn’t explain this.”
“No.”
She folded her arms around herself.
“Your father covered for him more times than you know.”
That surprised me.
“Dad?”
“Grant had gambling debts in college.”
“I knew that.”
“Not all of them.”
“How much?”
“Nearly a million dollars.”
My eyebrows lifted.
“Dad paid them?”
“Yes.”
“Why didn’t I know?”
“Because your father thought shame would destroy Grant.”
I almost laughed at the bitter irony.
“So instead he taught him consequences could be erased.”
My mother winced.
I continued.
“And you did the same thing.”
“Yes.”
That answer stopped me.
She wasn’t defending herself anymore.
That almost made it worse.
“What happened the night you saw Lily on the floor?”
My mother looked toward the crib.
“Grant called me.”
“Not Vanessa?”
“No.”
“What did he say?”
“He said there had been an accident.”
“Why call you?”
“Because he was panicking.”
“What was Vanessa doing?”
“Crying.”
“About Lily?”
My mother hesitated.
“About herself.”
Of course.
“She kept saying you would leave her.”
“And Grant?”
“He kept saying no one could know he had been there.”
I clenched my jaw.
“Because of the affair.”
“Yes.”
“So they cared more about being caught than Lily being hurt.”
My mother began crying.
“I think so.”
I looked away.
I couldn’t comfort her.
Not yet.
My phone rang.
Daniel.
I answered.
“Tell me something useful.”
“I can do better than useful.”
“What?”
“I traced one of the shell companies.”
I stepped into the hallway.
“To Grant?”
“Indirectly.”
“Who?”
“A woman named Olivia Mercer.”
I didn’t recognize it.
“Who is she?”
“That’s where it gets interesting. Olivia is Vanessa’s cousin.”
My stomach tightened.
“What?”
“She registered the company two years ago.”
“Before the affair?”
“Maybe before the affair began. Not necessarily before the scheme.”
I rubbed my forehead.
“How much money?”
“About nine hundred thousand passed through her entity.”
“Where did it go?”
“Most was moved again. Some went to the Miami condo trust.”
“Anything else?”
“Yes.”
Daniel paused.
“Forty thousand went to a private investigator.”
“What investigator?”
“A firm called Northstar Risk.”
“What were they investigating?”
“I called pretending to verify an invoice.”
I almost smiled.
“And?”
“They wouldn’t tell me. But the invoice number is coded with your initials.”
My expression vanished.
“They investigated me.”
“Looks that way.”
“For what?”
“No idea.”
I ended the call and told Detective Bennett.
She wrote down the firm.
Then her own phone rang.
She listened.
Her face changed.
“When?”
A pause.
“Send it.”
She hung up.
“What?”
“The prepaid phone.”
My stomach tightened.
“What did they find?”
“Messages.”
“Between who?”
“We’re still identifying the other number.”
“Grant?”
“Likely.”
“And?”
She looked directly at me.
“There are references to a deadline.”
“What deadline?”
“Your trip to Boston.”
I stared at her.
“What about it?”
“One message says: ‘Boston was supposed to solve this.’”
My skin went cold.
“Solve what?”
“We don’t know yet.”
I thought back to Boston.
Three days at a hotel.
Two investor dinners.
A meeting in Cambridge.
Then I remembered something.
My car.
On the second night, the rental car’s brakes had felt strange.
The pedal had gone soft while I was driving from dinner back to the hotel.
I had returned the car.
The rental company apologized and replaced it.
I had forgotten about it.
Until now.
I told Detective Bennett.
She became very still.
“Do you remember which rental company?”
“Yes.”
“Reservation number?”
“In my email.”
She asked me to forward it.
Twenty minutes later, police contacted the rental company.
The vehicle was still in service.
It was pulled immediately.
The results would take time.
I walked into the nursery.
Lily was awake.
She smiled when she saw me.
A tiny, sleepy smile.
I picked her up.
“You have no idea what’s happening, do you?”
She touched my chin.
I kissed her forehead.
“I’m going to fix this.”
Behind me, my mother said, “You can’t promise that.”
I looked at her.
“Yes, I can.”
“You can protect her. But you can’t fix what already happened.”
She was right.
I hated that she was right.
My phone buzzed.
A text from an unknown number.
A photo.
Vanessa.
She was sitting in what looked like a motel room.
Her face was streaked with tears.
She held a newspaper with today’s date.
Under the photo was one sentence.
STOP THE POLICE OR YOU WILL NEVER HEAR FROM HER AGAIN.
My mother gasped.
Detective Bennett immediately took the phone.
“Do not respond.”
Then another message came.
THIS IS YOUR LAST CHANCE TO SAVE YOUR FAMILY.
I looked at Lily.
My family.
That word had once meant Vanessa, Grant, Mom, Dad’s memory, Sunday dinners, holidays, business, tradition.
Now it meant one person.
Seven months old.
Ten pounds of trust in my arms.
I whispered, “My family is already here.”
Detective Bennett looked at me.
Then her phone rang.
She answered.
Listened.
Her eyes hardened.
“Understood.”
She hung up.
“What?”
She looked at me.
“The rental company inspected the car you drove in Boston.”
My mouth went dry.
May you like
“And?”
“The brake line had been deliberately cut.”
