Chapter 5 - The Woman Behind the Documents
I called Courtney back three times.
No answer.
Samantha called Deputy Mills.
I called again.
Voicemail.
Twenty-five minutes later, deputies reached the house.
Courtney wasn't there.
Neither was Charles.
But the documents she'd mentioned were.
They were hidden behind books in Lucas's office.
Samantha collected certified copies that afternoon.
One was a transfer authorization.
Another was a consulting agreement.
The third was a bank instruction.
All involved CBL Holdings.
And all carried the same approving signature.
Courtney Baldwin.
"She signed these?" I asked.
Samantha examined them.
"Maybe."
"You think they're forged too?"
"I think we've learned not to assume anything."
Courtney finally called at six.
She was at a hotel.
Alone.
Charles didn't know where.
"I left him," she said.
I didn't know what response she expected.
Congratulations felt inappropriate.
"Are you safe?"
"Yes."
"Did he hurt you?"
"No."
That mattered.
Whatever I thought of Courtney, I didn't want my father's anger turning on her.
"Why is your name on CBL documents?"
She started crying.
"Charles asked me to sign things after we got married."
"Did you read them?"
"No."
"Why not?"
"He said they were tax documents."
Samantha mouthed, Ask about the account.
"What account did he put in your name?"
"I checked."
"How much?"
"Two point three million."
My chest tightened.
"I didn't know."
"Where did it come from?"
"I don't know."
"Did you spend it?"
"No."
"Transfer it?"
"No."
"Then don't touch it."
"I won't."
She hesitated.
"Victoria?"
"What?"
"I'm sorry."
I said nothing.
"I shouldn't have laughed."
"No."
"I was horrible."
"Yes."
Her breath caught.
I wasn't interested in making cruelty comfortable for the person who committed it.
But I wasn't interested in becoming cruel either.
"Help the investigators," I said.
"I will."
"Tell the truth."
"I will."
"And don't warn Charles about anything."
A pause.
"Okay."
She hung up.
That evening, the forensic image of Lucas's microSD card became available.
Samantha brought the laptop beside my bed.
There were hundreds of documents.
Lucas had built a map.
Transfers left Baldwin-Gallagher.
Moved through Northway.
Then Crescent.
Then CBL.
Some returned as payments on Charles's private loans.
Others entered the account in Courtney's name.
"Why use her?"
"Distance," Samantha said. "Or control."
We found emails between Richard and Charles.
Not explicit confessions.
But close.
C: Move the March amount the same way.
R: L is reviewing vendor payments.
C: Then give him something else to review.
L.
Lucas.
My hands became cold.
Another email.
R: Gallagher asked for Northway invoices.
C: Delay until Friday.
Then:
R: He's not dropping it.
C: I will handle Lucas.
I stopped.
"Samantha."
"I see it."
"What does that mean?"
"We don't know."
"My husband died two weeks after this email."
"I know."
"You still think his accident was just an accident?"
"I think we give this to investigators."
"That's not what I asked."
"No. It's the answer I'm giving."
I hated her for being right.
The police received the files.
So did corporate investigators.
By the next morning, Richard Cole had retained an attorney.
Charles stopped answering company calls.
His access to financial systems was suspended pending review.
For the first time, my father couldn't command the problem away.
Meanwhile, Grace decided she was ready to arrive.
At 3:12 a.m., contractions became regular.
At 5:40, my doctor told me we were delivering.
Fear hit me then.
Real fear.
Lucas should have been there.
He should have been beside me making terrible jokes.
He should have been holding my hand.
I looked toward the empty chair.
For one second, grief swallowed everything.
Then Samantha walked in.
She'd been sleeping in the waiting room.
"I'm here."
"I can't do this."
"Yes, you can."
"I want Lucas."
"I know."
"I want him here."
"I know."
She took my hand.
"You don't have to stop wanting him. But Grace needs you now."
Hours later, I heard my daughter's cry.
Everything else disappeared.
At 10:17 a.m., Grace Eleanor Gallagher entered the world weighing five pounds, six ounces.
Small.
Early.
Furious.
Perfect.
They placed her against me for only a moment before taking her for additional monitoring.
I kissed her forehead.
"Your daddy loved you."
Those were the first words I said to her.
She spent two days in the neonatal unit for observation.
I spent most of those two days beside her.
I didn't answer company calls.
Didn't discuss Charles.
Didn't look at financial documents.
For forty-eight hours, my entire world weighed five pounds and six ounces.
On the third day, Grace was stable enough to remain with me.
That afternoon, Samantha arrived.
She didn't bring her briefcase.
That told me this wasn't business.
"What happened?"
She sat.
"Investigators located Richard."
"And?"
"He is cooperating."
My stomach tightened.
"With what?"
"The financial investigation."
"Did he say Charles was involved?"
"Yes."
I looked at Grace sleeping against my chest.
"How much?"
"Richard alleges Charles directed the transfers."
"Alleges."
"Correct."
"And Lucas?"
Samantha hesitated.
"What did he say about Lucas?"
"He said Charles became increasingly concerned after Lucas discovered the shell companies."
I swallowed.
"Did Charles hurt him?"
"Richard says no."
"Do you believe him?"
"I don't know."
"What did he say?"
"He said Charles ordered him to destroy records."
"That's all?"
"No."
I waited.
"Richard claims Charles asked him to track Lucas's meetings and report where he went."
My blood went cold.
"Why?"
"According to Richard, Charles wanted to know how much Lucas had discovered."
"And the accident?"
"Richard denies knowing anything about it."
I looked down at Grace.
I wanted certainty.
But certainty doesn't appear just because grief demands it.
"What do police say?"
"They're reviewing everything."
"Good."
Samantha smiled slightly.
"That's a surprisingly reasonable response."
"I've had a baby. I'm mature now."
She laughed.
It felt good.
Almost wrong.
Then Grace made a tiny sound, and I smiled too.
For one moment, the world wasn't about betrayal.
It was about life.
Then Samantha's phone rang.
She checked it.
"Martin."
She answered.
I watched her expression change.
"What happened?"
She listened.
"Don't touch it."
Another pause.
"We're coming."
She ended the call.
"Coming where?"
"Not you. Me."
"What happened?"
"During the audit, they opened a storage room attached to Lucas's old office."
"And?"
"They found a locked filing cabinet."
"So?"
"It wasn't Lucas's."
"Whose was it?"
"Your father's."
She stood.
"There was one envelope inside."
My heart began pounding.
"What's on it?"
Samantha looked at me.
"Your name."
She reached for the door.
Then stopped.
"And underneath your name, Lucas wrote three words."
"What words?"
May you like
Her eyes met mine.
"After I die."
