Chapter 3 - The Woman in the Black Sedan
I wanted to follow whoever delivered the photograph.
Rebecca told me to preserve the envelope instead and let the police examine the security footage.
For once, I listened before acting.
Hotel cameras showed a woman in a dark coat crossing the lobby just before eleven.
She wore a cap and kept her face turned away.
The camera at the parking exit captured a black sedan with temporary plates.
Neither image proved my mother was involved.
Both proved somebody had found us in a place we had chosen only hours before.
Evelyn stared at the still frame on Rebecca's laptop.
"I've seen her before," she said.
She described a woman who used to wait outside the twins' preschool in Indianapolis, pretending to read a newspaper.
One day the woman had approached Evelyn and said she represented a family support organization.
She had offered a furnished apartment and childcare if Evelyn agreed to a routine documentation review.
"I said no," Evelyn told us.
"The next week, my landlord said the building had been sold and my lease wouldn't be renewed."
Rebecca made notes without promising that the two events were connected.
Her restraint made me trust her more.
That afternoon, she obtained a copy of the filing from Indiana.
The acknowledgment itself included details only Evelyn would have known: the estimated delivery date, her former address, and her medical provider.
But the purported notarization had taken place in Illinois on a day I was in London.
Then Rebecca showed us another page.
The delegation included an authorization to place future payments into a custodial account administered by a family-affiliated trust company.
"What payments?" Evelyn asked.
I did not know.
Her face turned hard.
"Your mother told me no money would ever come."
Rebecca requested account records but warned they could take time.
I phoned Daniel and asked for a historical ledger of distributions approved by Eleanor during the six years I had served as chief executive.
"She's chair of our family trust committee," he reminded me.
"Then she should have no objection to an audit," I said.
He breathed into the receiver for a moment.
"Marcus, the Boston group thinks your cancellation proves you're distracted and unstable."
"Who told them that?"
"One of the family directors."
I knew which one before he said her name.
Eleanor had moved from silencing Evelyn to discrediting me.
At supper, Oliver asked if I knew how to fold paper airplanes.
I made one that crashed into the wall.
He laughed so hard he spilled his milk.
For thirty seconds, I forgot the papers and the board and the black sedan.
Then Evelyn received a text from an unknown number.
It displayed the names of the twins' pediatrician, their school counselor, and the hotel where we were sitting.
Beneath the names was a threat disguised as advice.
COOPERATE BEFORE WE HAVE TO CONSIDER THE CHILDREN'S WELFARE.
I called Rebecca.
She asked Evelyn to keep the message and said she would help report the intimidation.
"This is exactly how it started last time," Evelyn whispered.
I put the phone down and faced her.
"This time you won't stand in that room alone."
She stared at me.
"You still don't understand," she said.
May you like
"Last time, I wasn't alone either. Your name was on every document they used against me."
