Chapter 4 - The Blue Folder
For an instant, all I could see was the folder.
Daniel stopped in the doorway when he noticed my expression.
"What's wrong?"
Charlotte raised one hand.
"Set it down, please."
He obeyed, puzzled rather than offended.
I told him what Melissa had said.
Daniel's face drained of color.
"I've carried blue folders for twelve years."
"That doesn't clear you," Charlotte replied.
"I know."
He placed his phone on the table and stepped back.
"Have someone else inspect it."
Detective Brooks met us forty minutes later.
Inside the folder were credit documents, a courier receipt, and a single unsigned letter addressed to me.
The letter purported to come from Malcolm Vale.
It claimed he knew my identity and warned me that disclosure could trigger an investor conflict inquiry.
At the bottom was a sentence that made my blood turn cold.
YOUR HUSBAND IS NOT THE ONLY PERSON WHO CAN BE RUINED.
Daniel looked genuinely sick.
"A messenger left that at reception," he said.
"Who signed for it?" Brooks asked.
"My assistant."
Charlotte studied the courier receipt.
"There isn't a tracking number."
"It's a prop," Brooks said.
The detective photographed each page and arranged for the originals to be preserved.
Daniel asked whether he should resign from the transaction immediately.
"Not because someone planted a folder," I said.
He looked at me with gratitude that I didn't want.
Trust could no longer be a favor I gave because someone seemed sincere.
It had to be supported by facts.
We changed the access permissions anyway.
No single person, including me, would be able to release funding without independent verification from both our bank and outside counsel.
At 9:43 a.m., Adrian called.
I let it ring.
He left a voicemail.
"Eleanor, whatever game you're playing, stop. Malcolm says somebody's trying to sabotage the closing. Just come home and sign."
I replayed it for Charlotte.
"He still believes the divorce signature will solve his funding problem," she said.
"Or he's pretending to."
At ten, the closing was suspended pending authentication of the investor documents.
The board meeting continued without disbursement.
Adrian's next message arrived immediately.
YOU DID THIS.
It was the first sign that someone had connected my resistance with his disaster.
A minute later another message arrived.
I KNOW ABOUT YOUR FAMILY NOW.
My stomach tightened.
Then a photograph appeared.
It showed my mother's old house, the one where she'd spent her last winter, with a black sedan parked outside.
On the windshield was a folded sheet of paper.
Charlotte called Detective Brooks.
I looked at the photograph again.
Someone was no longer merely threatening my money.
May you like
They were searching for whatever my mother had left behind.
