Chapter 7 - HIS NAME ON THE PAGE
Ethan called David before Officer Ramirez had even finished writing his report number.
"What second signature?"
"A personal guaranty attached to the Northbridge loan."
"Mine?"
"Your name, your date of birth, and a signature that looks close enough to yours to pass a quick review."
"I never guaranteed that loan."
"I believe you."
"How much exposure?"
"Potentially the full amount if the borrower defaults."
Ethan felt the room narrow around him.
"So someone put Hannah down as borrower and me down as guarantor."
"Yes."
"And eighty-five thousand already went to Trevor's company."
"Yes."
"For Mom's renovation."
"That is what we are trying to establish."
Ethan looked toward Trevor.
His cousin had gone very still.
"I think Trevor knows more than he is saying."
David lowered his voice.
"Do not confront him about anything you cannot prove yet."
"He is standing in my foyer."
"Then tell him to leave."
Ethan ended the call.
Officer Ramirez handed him a card.
"An investigator from financial crimes should contact you."
"What about the recorder?"
"We'll preserve it and see what can be recovered."
"Even if something was deleted?"
"Deleted does not always mean gone."
Trevor looked away.
Ethan noticed.
"Thank you."
The officer left with the recorder.
The two Crestline workers had already gone.
Trevor remained by the door.
"You happy now?"
Ethan looked at him.
"No."
"You dragged police into this."
"Someone used my wife's identity."
"You don't know that."
"Someone forged her signature."
"According to her."
Ethan stepped closer.
"Be careful."
Trevor laughed, but the sound came out thin.
"See, that's the problem with you."
"What is?"
"You think because you make more money than everyone else, you get to decide what's true."
"I decide what happens in my house."
"Your house again."
Trevor shook his head.
"Mom was right."
"About what?"
"You forgot where you came from."
"And you forgot my wife is a person, not a credit application."
Trevor's face changed.
Too fast.
Too sharp.
Ethan caught it.
"You knew."
"Knew what?"
"About the loan."
"I knew Crestline had a client."
"Named Hannah Cole."
Trevor said nothing.
"You billed eighty-five thousand dollars to a woman you had dinner with last night and never once mentioned she was your client?"
"I don't handle billing."
"You own forty percent of the company."
"That doesn't mean I see every invoice."
"Did you see this one?"
Trevor's mouth tightened.
"Talk to my attorney."
Ethan gave a humorless smile.
"Good idea."
Trevor left.
The house became silent for the first time in weeks.
Ethan stood in the foyer and looked around.
Half-packed boxes lined the stairs.
Hannah's cardigan hung over one.
Her maternity coat had been shoved into another beneath Madison's shoes.
On the dining room table, last night's centerpiece still sat beside three empty wine bottles.
Someone had left a lipstick-stained glass near Hannah's prenatal vitamins.
Ethan took a photograph.
Then another.
He walked room to room and documented everything.
Madison's bedroom was empty except for a suitcase.
Lorraine's guest room contained two locked filing cases.
Ethan did not open them.
He photographed them and called David.
"Do not touch them," David said.
"They're in my house."
"And if she later claims documents were altered, I do not want you anywhere near that argument."
"What about Hannah's things?"
"Document them."
"I already am."
"Good."
Ethan entered the nursery last.
He stopped in the doorway.
The room had changed.
The crib was still there.
The rocking chair was still beside the window.
The mobile still hung above the changing table.
But the framed ultrasound picture that Hannah loved was missing.
So was the small ceramic sign she had painted with the baby's name.
He opened the closet.
Half of the newborn clothes were gone.
The shelves were bare where boxes of diapers had been stacked.
He checked the changing table drawers.
Empty.
Someone had stripped the nursery of supplies.
His phone rang.
Hannah.
He answered on the first ring.
"How are you?"
"Better."
"I'm coming back soon."
"Did you find the camera system?"
"The police have it."
"Good."
He hesitated.
"Hannah, did you move anything from the nursery?"
Silence.
"What do you mean?"
"The clothes. The diapers. The ultrasound picture."
Her breathing changed.
"No."
"Okay."
"Ethan, what happened?"
"They packed things."
"My baby things?"
"Some of them."
"Why?"
"I don't know."
Hannah began crying quietly.
Ethan closed his eyes.
"I am sorry."
"That room was ready."
"I know."
"I washed every onesie."
"I know."
"My mother mailed that blanket from Oregon."
"We'll find it."
"Why would they touch the baby's room?"
Ethan looked at the empty shelves.
"I don't know yet."
He returned to the hospital at noon.
Hannah was sitting up in bed with a social worker named Melissa Grant.
Melissa left when Ethan entered.
Hannah looked exhausted but calmer.
"She asked me a lot of questions."
"Was that okay?"
"Yes."
"Did it help?"
Hannah thought for a moment.
"It made me realize how much I kept minimizing."
Ethan sat beside her.
"Tell me."
"Not all at once."
"Okay."
"I need you not to interrupt."
"I won't."
She looked at her hands.
"Your mother controlled the grocery deliveries."
Ethan frowned.
"She said she was helping."
"She canceled the healthy meals I ordered and replaced them with food for everyone else."
"Why?"
"She said pregnant women should not be precious about food."
Ethan stayed silent.
"She started inviting people without asking me."
"I know."
"If I went upstairs, Madison would follow me and say I was being rude."
"She followed you?"
Hannah looked at him.
He raised both hands.
"Sorry."
She continued.
"They started using the nursery as storage when I wasn't home."
"What?"
"I moved the boxes out three times."
"Why didn't I see them?"
"Because they moved them before you came home."
Ethan felt sick.
"Your mom said the baby did not need a whole room yet."
"She said that?"
Hannah nodded.
"Then she asked whether we had updated our wills."
Ethan went still.
"When?"
"About two weeks ago."
"What exactly did she ask?"
"She asked who would control money for the baby if something happened to us."
"What did you say?"
"That we had not decided."
"Then what?"
"She said family should handle family money."
Ethan looked toward the door.
A memory surfaced.
His father's funeral.
Lorraine sitting beside the attorney.
A blue folder.
The name Carlisle.
He had seen it before.
"I know that account."
Hannah frowned.
"What?"
"Carlisle."
"Your mother mentioned it?"
"She did this morning."
He stood.
"I saw that name after Dad died."
"What was it?"
"I don't know."
He called David.
"Find everything you can on an account or trust with the word Carlisle attached to my father."
"Already doing it."
"Why?"
"Because your mother called my office."
Ethan stopped.
"When?"
"Twenty minutes ago."
"What did she want?"
"She asked whether I represented you personally or you and Hannah together."
"What did you say?"
"I told her I represent both of you in the identity theft matter unless a conflict develops."
"Why would she care?"
"Because then she asked a very specific question."
"What question?"
David paused.
"She asked whether Hannah had retained separate counsel regarding the Carlisle Family Trust."
Hannah stared at Ethan.
Ethan felt cold all over.
"We didn't even know there was a Carlisle Family Trust."
"Your mother apparently does."
"Can you find it?"
"I may have already found part of it."
"What does it say?"
"I need the full instrument before I tell you anything definitive."
"David."
"Ethan, the summary I located says the trust changes control when the first grandchild of your father's bloodline is born."
Ethan looked at Hannah's stomach.
Neither of them spoke.
Then David added the sentence that made the room feel suddenly colder.
May you like
"Your baby may be the event your mother has been waiting for."
