Chapter 2 - The Letters Jasper Said Never Came
I told Jasper I needed to go home alone.
He put me into a taxi himself, probably because he believed I was too rattled to do anything except crawl into bed.
As soon as we turned the corner, I changed the destination.
Sarah Whitcomb owned a print-and-copy shop near Riverside’s old downtown district. We had been friends in college before marriage, work, and my increasing isolation from everyone Jasper disliked made our friendship occasional instead of close.
She locked the front door when she saw my face.
“What happened?”
I placed the USB on her counter.
“I need to know what’s on this.”
The drive contained four folders.
REPORTS.
DEBTS.
LETTERS.
AUDIO.
Sarah opened the reports first.
Donovan Medical Apparel was not bankrupt.
It had posted its strongest operating year in almost a decade.
There were new supply contracts with outpatient surgical centers, an expansion agreement with a Nevada hospital network, and cash reserves large enough to make Jasper’s warnings about imminent collapse absurd.
Then we opened the supposed debt records.
They matched documents Jasper had shown me at home almost line for line.
Except these copies included supporting information.
Several “suppliers” were companies Sarah could not locate in state business searches.
Two shared the same mailing address.
Another used an attorney whose name appeared nowhere in the California bar directory.
“Camille,” Sarah said quietly, “somebody built paperwork to make this company look distressed.”
I could barely hear her.
Because I had opened the letters folder.
There were scans of envelopes addressed to me in my father’s handwriting.
Dozens.
Birthdays.
Christmas.
One marked PERSONAL—PLEASE READ.
Jasper had told me my father stopped writing after our argument two years earlier.
The scans showed otherwise.
I opened the most recent.
Camille, I don’t know why every call goes unanswered. If Jasper is telling you I’m angry, he is lying. I need to speak with you privately about Victor and the shareholder records. Please don’t sign anything they bring you until we talk.
The date was six weeks old.
My hands started shaking.
Sarah clicked the audio folder.
There were five files.
The first contained office sounds and two male voices.
Jasper’s was unmistakable.
Victor said, “Once Camille signs, Jackson can’t block the vote.”
Jasper answered, “She’ll sign. She thinks he hates her.”
I stopped the recording.
Sarah turned slowly toward me.
“Who gave you this?”
“A cleaning lady.”
“Why would a cleaning lady have your father’s corporate records?”
I didn’t know.
But before we could speculate, my phone began vibrating.
Jasper.
Again.
Again.
Then a message:
Where are you?
Followed by another:
Victor says the notary can still fit us in today.
A third arrived thirty seconds later.
Camille, do not call your father until I get there.
May you like
That message answered a question I had not asked him.
Jasper knew exactly what I was about to do.
