Chapter 6 - The Signature That Shouldn't Exist
Claire didn't know she was being watched until Rebecca showed her the photograph.
Daniel had forwarded the threatening message to his attorney, who had contacted Rebecca.
The image showed Claire and Vanessa inside the café.
Taken from across the street.
Close enough to identify both women.
Claire stared at it.
“Someone followed us.”
Rebecca nodded.
“We don't know who took it, but we're treating it seriously.”
“Is Daniel behind this?”
“We don't know.”
Claire looked away.
She wanted to believe Daniel would never frighten her deliberately.
But twenty-four hours earlier, she had also believed he would never betray their marriage.
Rebecca arranged for Claire to move to another hotel, advised her to preserve the messages, and contacted the appropriate authorities about the threat.
Claire was furious.
Not frightened at first.
Furious.
Someone had taken her marriage, her trust, and possibly her financial identity.
Now they wanted to take her sense of safety.
At three o'clock, Rebecca's office received a call from an investigator named Marcus Bell.
Marcus was a former federal financial investigator who now specialized in complex civil fraud matters.
Rebecca had retained him to help organize and evaluate the financial records.
He had found something important.
“The earliest suspicious transfer predates the Whitaker redevelopment,” he said.
Claire frowned.
“By how much?”
“Almost a year.”
Rebecca leaned forward.
“Then the project wasn't the beginning.”
“No. It may have been a convenient source of funds later.”
Marcus placed a timeline on the conference table.
The first unexplained transaction had occurred eighteen months earlier.
A consulting payment.
Then a series of transfers between entities.
Some money moved back into legitimate business expenses.
Some disappeared into accounts whose beneficial owners had not yet been identified.
Claire studied the timeline.
“Why use my name?”
Marcus looked at her.
“That's one of the questions we need to answer.”
“Could someone have chosen me because I work in a law firm?”
“Possibly. Or because you were connected to Daniel.”
Claire looked down.
“Or because I trusted him.”
Marcus didn't answer.
Rebecca pointed to the authorization from March 14.
“We have reason to believe Claire and Daniel were at a hospital when this approval was recorded.”
Marcus nodded.
“That could help establish they weren't personally operating the system at the recorded time, though we'd need to verify how the approval was made.”
Claire remembered the hospital.
Daniel's father, Richard Bennett, had suffered a stroke that night.
She remembered fluorescent lights.
Bad coffee.
A nurse telling them to wait.
Daniel sitting beside her, silent and terrified.
Richard had survived.
But he had never fully recovered his speech.
He now lived in an assisted-living residence outside Chicago.
Claire had visited him every Sunday.
Daniel visited when he could.
Usually less often.
Suddenly, Claire remembered something.
“Richard asked me about the company.”
Rebecca looked up.
“When?”
“Last summer.”
“What did he say?”
“He asked whether I knew what Daniel was doing with the partnership money.”
Marcus stopped writing.
“Exact words?”
Claire closed her eyes.
Richard had been sitting in his favorite chair by the window.
His speech was slow after the stroke.
He had reached for her hand.
Claire. The money. Daniel's firm. Be careful.
She had thought he was confused.
Richard had become anxious about finances after his stroke.
Daniel had assured her it was common.
Now she wasn't sure.
“He said I should be careful,” Claire whispered.
Marcus looked at Rebecca.
“Can we speak with him?”
Claire nodded.
“I can arrange it through his care team.”
At five thirty, Claire arrived at Richard's residence with Rebecca.
Richard was seventy-four.
Thin.
White-haired.
Still handsome in the same quiet way Daniel would probably be handsome at seventy.
When Claire entered, his face brightened.
“Claire.”
She crossed the room and hugged him.
“Hi, Richard.”
He looked past her.
“Daniel?”
“Not today.”
His expression changed.
He noticed her bare left hand.
The wedding ring was gone.
Richard looked at her fingers.
Then at her face.
“Oh.”
Claire felt tears rise.
“I'm sorry.”
Richard shook his head slowly.
“No.”
She sat beside him.
“Richard, I need to ask you something.”
He listened as Rebecca explained, in simple terms, that questions had arisen about financial transactions involving Daniel's firm.
Richard's breathing changed.
His hand tightened around the armrest.
“Thomas,” he said.
Claire went still.
“What about Thomas?”
Richard tried to speak.
The words wouldn't come.
He grew frustrated.
Rebecca waited patiently.
Richard pointed toward a wooden cabinet beside his bed.
Claire opened it.
Inside were photographs, books, and a leather-bound notebook.
He pointed again.
Claire lifted the notebook.
“This?”
Richard nodded.
She opened it.
Most pages contained ordinary notes.
Medication reminders.
Names.
Dates.
Phone numbers.
Then she reached a page near the back.
Three words had been written in shaky handwriting.
Pike. Sloan. Northline.
Claire looked at Rebecca.
Richard tapped the page urgently.
“Before,” he said.
“Before what?” Claire asked.
He struggled.
“Before... sick.”
Claire's heart began pounding.
“Before your stroke?”
Richard nodded.
He reached for her hand.
His eyes filled.
“Not... accident.”
Rebecca leaned forward.
“Richard, are you saying something happened before your stroke?”
He nodded again.
Claire felt cold.
“What happened?”
Richard tried to answer.
His mouth moved.
No sound came.
Then he looked toward the door.
His face changed.
A man stood in the hallway.
Tall.
Silver-haired.
Wearing a charcoal overcoat.
Thomas Sloan.
He smiled when he saw Claire.
“Well,” he said. “I didn't realize we were having a family reunion.”
May you like
Richard began shaking his head.
And for the first time since Claire had known him, the old man looked genuinely terrified.
