Chapter 9
I did not go alone.
Maybe the old Michael would have.
The old Michael believed problems could be fixed if he walked into a room with enough patience.
That version of me had nearly lost a house.
I sent the text to Detective Harris.
He called immediately.
“Do not respond yet.”
“Daniel might be in trouble.”
“We'll check the address.”
“What if whoever has his phone sees police?”
“That's why you're not going to improvise.”
Waiting was torture.
I called Daniel six times.
No answer.
His location sharing had been turned off.
Twenty minutes later, Harris called back.
“The address is a warehouse south of downtown.”
“Who owns it?”
“A holding company.”
“Connected to who?”
“We're checking.”
“I need to go.”
“No.”
“Harris—”
“If Daniel is being coerced, showing up alone is exactly what they want.”
The word coerced made my stomach turn.
Dad stood beside me.
Mom sat at the kitchen table praying quietly.
I hated every second.
Finally Harris said, “We have units moving.”
I wasn't invited.
I drove anyway.
Not to the warehouse.
Close enough that I could get there quickly if I was called.
Dad tried to come.
I refused.
“This started because you wanted to protect me,” he said.
“No. You already did that.”
I hugged him.
“Now let me protect you.”
Twenty-five minutes later, Harris called.
“We found Daniel.”
“Is he okay?”
“Yes.”
My knees almost gave out.
“What happened?”
“Come to the station.”
Daniel looked angry when I saw him.
Not frightened.
Angry.
He had a bruise on his cheek.
“What happened?”
“Vanessa happened.”
I stared at him.
He shook his head.
“She's been lying from the beginning.”
Detective Harris entered.
“Let's go through this carefully.”
Daniel explained.
Vanessa called him that afternoon claiming she had discovered another box of documents.
She asked him to meet her at a storage facility.
Because she had already cooperated once, Daniel went.
Stupid, he admitted.
When he arrived, Vanessa wasn't alone.
Two men were there.
Neither was Cole.
They took his phone.
They wanted to know what evidence he and I had.
“They didn't beat me,” Daniel said. “One guy shoved me when I tried to leave.”
“How did you get the bruise?”
“I hit the edge of a shelf.”
“You're lucky.”
“I know.”
“What did they want?”
“To know whether the original quitclaim document had been turned over.”
Harris said, “Which tells us they care about that document specifically.”
“Why?”
Daniel looked at him.
“Maybe because it connects someone else.”
“Who?”
He reached into an evidence bag on the table.
Inside was a photocopy officers found at the warehouse.
Another version of the quitclaim deed.
Same property.
Same fake signature.
But a witness line had been filled in.
The witness name made no sense at first.
Then Daniel said, “Look at the notary.”
I did.
Vanessa Clarke.
I felt something snap into place.
Vanessa hadn't just known about the plan.
She had participated.
“She's a notary?”
“Commission expired last year,” Harris said. “But she apparently continued using the stamp.”
I remembered her tears.
Her folder.
Her claims that Rachel said I knew about the investment.
“How much did she lie about?”
“We're figuring that out.”
“Where is she?”
“Not at home.”
The rental SUV near my parents' cabin had been in her name.
She had found them somehow.
Maybe through Rachel.
Maybe through the hotel.
Maybe by following us.
“Why would she watch my parents?”
Daniel said, “Because your dad took the first photo.”
The first photo.
Eric holding the document.
Evidence that placed him at the house.
Evidence taken before anyone knew an investigation would begin.
Vanessa may have feared Dad had more.
I called my father.
“Do you have any other pictures from that day?”
He thought.
“A few.”
“Send every single one.”
Pictures arrived one by one.
Suitcases.
The front door.
Eric's car.
Rachel.
Then one I hadn't seen.
Eric stood near the garage talking to someone partly hidden by the doorframe.
A woman.
Only half her face was visible.
But it was enough.
Vanessa.
She had been at my house.
Rachel never mentioned it.
I sent the image to Harris.
His expression changed.
“She was there.”
Daniel shook his head.
“That explains why she knew your parents had seen the documents.”
My phone rang.
Rachel.
I answered immediately.
“Was Vanessa at our house the day you threw my parents out?”
Silence.
“Rachel.”
“Yes.”
“Why didn't you tell police?”
“I did.”
Harris looked at me.
I put her on speaker.
“No, you didn't,” he said.
Rachel's breathing changed.
“Detective Harris?”
“Yes.”
“I told the other officer.”
Harris shook his head.
“No record of it.”
Rachel began speaking quickly.
“Vanessa came over because Eric wanted her to notarize something.”
“What?” Harris asked.
“The deed.”
My stomach clenched.
“Did she notarize my forged signature?”
Rachel started crying.
“Yes.”
“Did she see me sign it?”
“No.”
“Did she know I hadn't?”
“Yes.”
There was the final piece.
Vanessa wasn't another victim of Rachel's lies.
She was a partner.
Maybe not equal.
But involved.
“Why did she bring us those documents?” I asked.
Rachel answered immediately.
“To protect herself.”
Harris leaned closer to the phone.
“Explain.”
“Vanessa called me yesterday. She was panicking because Eric was arrested. She said she needed to look cooperative.”
Daniel let out a dark laugh.
So she had given us selected evidence.
Enough to point at Rachel and Eric.
Not enough to expose herself.
“What about Blue Arc?” Harris asked.
Rachel hesitated.
“It wasn't a real business.”
I closed my eyes.
Of course.
“What was it?” he asked.
“A company Vanessa created to receive money.”
“For the investment?”
Rachel's silence answered.
Harris said, “Mrs. Turner, what investment actually existed?”
Rachel started sobbing.
“I don't know anymore.”
I stared at the phone.
“What does that mean?”
“Vanessa showed me contracts. Purchase orders. Shipping records. I thought it was real.”
“You transferred money into her company.”
“Yes.”
“Did you ever verify the supplier independently?”
“No.”
“Did you ever speak to anyone other than Vanessa and people she introduced?”
“No.”
Everything became clear in the ugliest possible way.
Rachel had betrayed me.
But Rachel may also have been conned.
Vanessa brought her the investment.
Vanessa introduced the network.
Vanessa received our money.
Vanessa notarized the forged deed.
Then when things collapsed, Vanessa handed us a folder designed to make herself appear like an innocent business partner.
That didn't excuse Rachel.
She still lied.
Still forged.
Still tried to take my ownership.
Still planned to leave with money.
But the architecture around her was larger than I had realized.
Detective Harris asked, “Rachel, when did you last speak with Vanessa?”
“An hour ago.”
Everyone looked up.
“What did she say?”
“She wants to meet.”
“Where?”
Rachel gave the address.
Harris stood immediately.
“What does she want?”
“She says she can fix everything.”
“Meaning?”
“She said she has the original contracts and proof that Eric and Cole set us both up.”
“Do you believe her?”
Rachel's answer came quietly.
“No.”
Harris instructed her not to go.
Then Rachel said something that stopped him.
“She has my passport.”
I looked at the phone.
“What?”
“She took some documents from the house.”
“My documents too?”
“I think so.”
My anger returned instantly.
“You told me they were safe.”
“I thought they were.”
“With Vanessa?”
“She said she'd keep them somewhere Eric couldn't get them.”
“Why would Eric want our passports?”
“I don't know.”
Harris took the phone off speaker and spoke privately with Rachel.
Ten minutes later, officers were preparing another operation.
Vanessa wanted to meet Rachel in the parking garage of a downtown office building.
Rachel agreed to cooperate.
I was told to stay away.
This time I listened.
At eleven-thirty that night, Harris called.
“We have Vanessa.”
I exhaled.
“And the documents?”
“We recovered several.”
“My passport?”
“Yes.”
“My Social Security card?”
“Yes.”
I shut my eyes.
“Thank God.”
“But Michael…”
The tone changed.
“What?”
“There was also a second passport.”
I frowned.
“What do you mean?”
“Rachel's.”
“So?”
“It was recently issued.”
I didn't understand.
Then Harris said, “There was an airline reservation printed inside the folder.”
My heartbeat slowed.
“Where to?”
“Costa Rica.”
“When?”
“Tomorrow morning.”
I stared into the darkness outside the hotel window.
“Who was traveling?”
May you like
Harris paused.
“Rachel and Vanessa.”
