Chapter 5 - THE MONEY DIDN’T LEAD WHERE I EXPECTED
Patrick called again at three that afternoon.
“The screenshot is fake.”
I sat in Rebecca’s conference room.
“Fake how?”
“Composite image. Somebody took language from a public filing, added formatting from one of your old conference presentations, and built something that looks like an internal memo.”
“Can you tell who?”
“No.”
“Does this clear me?”
“It clears the specific allegation that you possessed that memo.”
“Specific allegation.”
“You know how this works.”
I did.
Internal review still had to verify system logs and determine whether I had misused anything else.
But the central piece of Claire’s ethics complaint had already started collapsing.
Rebecca leaned back when I told her.
“Good.”
“It doesn’t feel good.”
“Facts rarely feel as dramatic as accusations.”
My phone rang.
The bank’s fraud investigator.
I put it on speaker after asking permission.
“Mr. Mercer, we reviewed the attempted HELOC advance.”
“Was my authentication compromised?”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“The one-time code was delivered to your old device. We also found that the destination account was opened twenty-two months ago.”
I looked at Rebecca.
“Redwood?”
“Yes.”
“Who owns it?”
“I can’t disclose all account information, but because you are contesting a transaction, I can tell you the beneficiary name associated with the destination.”
I expected Diane.
I was wrong.
“Claire Mercer.”
Rebecca stopped writing.
I leaned toward the phone.
“Redwood Family Services was my mother-in-law’s company.”
“The account we have is a business account.”
“In whose name?”
“Claire Mercer is listed as managing member.”
I said nothing.
The investigator continued.
“The business registration may tell you more. I’m only discussing information relevant to your disputed transfer.”
After the call, Rebecca searched the Illinois Secretary of State database.
Redwood Family Services LLC had originally been organized by Diane Reynolds.
Four years earlier, an amendment had been filed.
New managing member: Claire Mercer.
Another amendment eighteen months later listed Claire as the sole member.
“I never knew she owned it,” I said.
Rebecca clicked through public filings.
“Looks dormant.”
“Why keep it?”
“You tell me.”
I thought of Claire in the red dress.
The cameras.
Marcus.
The eighty-seven thousand dollars.
“The account is hers.”
Rebecca looked at me.
“Yes.”
“So the money wasn’t going to Diane.”
“Not directly.”
“That makes Claire the center of it.”
“Maybe.”
I hated that word.
“Maybe?”
Rebecca took off her glasses.
“You are still doing the thing Patrick warned you not to do.”
“What thing?”
“Trying to solve motive before we have facts.”
“She tried to transfer almost ninety thousand dollars.”
“Yes.”
“She tried to add her LLC to my inherited brokerage account using a forged signature.”
“Yes.”
“She filed a false ethics complaint.”
“Her lawyer filed a complaint containing false material. We don’t yet know who created it.”
“You think I’m being unfair to her?”
“I think you hired me to keep you from making a stupid decision while you’re furious.”
I stood and walked to the window.
Below us, Washington Street traffic moved through downtown.
Normal Friday afternoon.
Coffee shops.
People walking dogs.
A delivery driver arguing with a parking meter.
My family felt like it had split open in a city that had no reason to notice.
Rebecca turned her laptop toward me.
“Here’s something.”
Redwood had a Cook County judgment attached to it.
Plaintiff: Oak Ridge Capital Recovery.
Original creditor: Vale Advisory Group.
Amount: $164,000.
Judgment date: eleven months earlier.
I read it twice.
“Marcus’s company sued Claire’s LLC?”
“Looks like it.”
“For what?”
“The public docket says breach of repayment agreement.”
“What repayment agreement?”
“We need the complaint.”
She purchased the court filing.
The PDF loaded.
Vale Advisory Group alleged that Redwood Family Services owed $142,000 under a private reimbursement agreement related to “unauthorized vendor disbursements and associated losses.”
My stomach tightened.
“Unauthorized vendor disbursements.”
Rebecca scanned the next page.
“The agreement was signed by Claire.”
“When?”
“Fourteen months ago.”
Noah was six months old.
Fourteen months ago, Claire had been five months pregnant.
I remembered that period.
Her swollen ankles.
Her crying in the laundry room because the obstetrician had put her on modified bed rest.
Diane had practically moved into our house.
Claire said she was helping with meals and driving Lily to school.
I had thanked her.
I had bought her a Mother’s Day gift.
Rebecca tapped one paragraph.
“Here.”
I read.
The agreement stated that Vale Advisory had identified financial irregularities linked to Claire’s employee credentials and agreed not to immediately refer the matter for criminal prosecution if Redwood reimbursed the losses according to schedule.
My mouth went dry.
“Claire stole from her employer.”
“That’s what this document suggests.”
“Marcus knew.”
“Yes.”
“And instead of reporting it, he made a private deal.”
“Apparently.”
I remembered his hand around Claire’s waist.
The smile.
The party.
“That’s why they’re draining us.”
“Possibly.”
My phone buzzed.
Claire.
Not a call.
A photograph.
The image showed my blue estate folder sitting on a granite countertop.
Under it she wrote:
Stop digging into Redwood. You don’t understand what happened.
Then another message.
Marcus isn’t the person you should be afraid of.
I stared at it.
Rebecca read over my shoulder.
“Don’t respond yet.”
A third message arrived.
Ask my mother what she was doing in our house while I was on bed rest.
I read it again.
“Our house.”
Not Claire’s office.
Not Redwood.
Our house.
Rebecca’s expression changed.
“What was Diane doing there?”
I thought of thirteen months earlier.
I thought of coming home after dark and finding Diane at the kitchen island with Claire’s work laptop open.
At the time she had laughed.
“Your wife forgot how to print a spreadsheet.”
I hadn’t questioned it.
Now I remembered something else.
May you like
Claire had been upstairs asleep.
And Diane had known Claire’s password.
