Chapter 11 - THE CAR ACROSS THE STREET
Brent's SUV did not move when Gavin zoomed in on the security feed.
The engine appeared to be running.
The headlights were off.
Someone was sitting in the driver's seat.
Diane stood beside me with both arms wrapped around herself.
"That's his plate."
Mara looked at her.
"Are you certain?"
"I bought him that car for our anniversary."
She laughed bitterly.
"So yes."
Detective Ortiz was already aware that several witnesses were meeting at Lumina.
Mara called her.
Ortiz told us not to confront the driver.
Within fifteen minutes, a patrol car passed slowly down the street.
The black SUV pulled away before the patrol car reached the intersection.
It did not speed.
It did not run a light.
It simply left.
That almost made it worse.
Whoever was inside knew how to look normal.
Diane stared through the glass doors long after the SUV disappeared.
"He never watches me."
"What do you mean?" I asked.
"Brent doesn't care where I go."
"He barely asks when I'll be home."
She looked at the women around the table.
"So why tonight?"
Mara answered carefully.
"We don't know that he was watching you."
"He could have been watching the restaurant."
That did not comfort anyone.
The women left in pairs.
Gavin walked each group to their cars.
I stayed until the last one was gone.
Then Mara made me leave through the rear entrance with her.
The next morning, Elena called at 6:40.
"I found the $15,200."
I sat up in the hotel bed.
"Beatrice's lunch money?"
"It appears so."
"Diane gave me the payment handle."
"I traced public account information and then matched a transfer pattern in records we already had from Lucas's files."
"Where did it go?"
"Not to a charity."
"Where?"
"A payment account in Beatrice's name transferred fourteen thousand eight hundred dollars to LV Hospitality two days before the lunch."
I closed my eyes.
"She gave Lucas the money."
"Or LV Hospitality received money from her."
Elena was careful.
"We don't yet know the purpose."
"What about the missing four hundred?"
"Fees or a separate payment."
"I can't see enough without subpoenaed records."
I got out of bed.
"So Beatrice collected money from her friends, sent most of it to Lucas's shell company, then came to Lumina and ordered another twenty-three thousand dollars expecting me to absorb it."
"That is consistent with what we can currently see."
"Why?"
"That is not an accounting question."
I almost smiled.
Elena had never been interested in motives.
Numbers were enough for her.
For me, motive had become the only thing I could not stop thinking about.
What had Lucas needed fourteen thousand eight hundred dollars for two days before the lunch?
By noon, Mara had filed a supplemental declaration in family court concerning the break-in, stolen evidence, and continued interference with Lumina.
Lucas's attorney denied Lucas had anything to do with it.
Brent's attorney sent Diane a letter demanding she stop accessing what he called confidential business information.
Beatrice posted no video that day.
Her silence made me nervous.
At 2:15 p.m., Mara called me into the office.
"Lucas made a settlement offer."
I stared at her.
"Already?"
"Not a full divorce settlement."
"A temporary business arrangement."
"What does he want?"
She handed me a four-page proposal.
Lucas would withdraw his request for control of Lumina.
He would stop public statements.
He would agree not to contact employees.
In return, I would pay him $300,000 and agree to sell him a twenty-five percent nonvoting economic interest in Lumina for one dollar.
I looked at Mara.
"Is this a joke?"
"No."
"He wants me to pay him three hundred thousand dollars and give him a quarter of the company he tried to take?"
"That is the proposal."
I laughed.
I could not help it.
"Why would anyone write this down?"
"Because sometimes people anchor negotiations with an extreme number."
"This isn't an anchor."
"It's a confession with page numbers."
Mara smiled despite herself.
"Not legally."
I flipped to the confidentiality clause.
It required me to destroy copies of "private marital communications" and return all documents obtained from third parties.
I stopped laughing.
"There."
Mara nodded.
"I saw it."
"He wants Serena's drive."
"He wants information control."
"Same thing."
"Not exactly."
I put the paper down.
"Reject it."
"I expected you to say that."
"Counter with what?"
"Nothing today."
"Why?"
"Because we are still learning what he is afraid of."
At 4:00 p.m., we learned more.
Detective Ortiz came to Lumina with a question.
"Do you know a company called Pacific Event Logistics?"
"Only because Elena found payments to it."
"Did Lumina ever receive services from that company?"
"Not that I know of."
"Any events? Equipment? Staffing?"
"No."
Ortiz opened a folder.
"The company listed a warehouse address in Chula Vista."
"We checked it."
"It's a mailbox store."
That was not surprising.
"The bank account receiving the payments had two authorized signers."
My heart sped up.
"Lucas?"
"One was Lucas Mercer."
"The other was Gavin Cole."
I felt the room tilt.
Gavin was in the dining room.
I could see him through the office glass.
"No."
Ortiz watched me.
"You asked for facts."
"Those are the facts in the bank records."
"Could his name have been forged?"
"Possible."
"Could he actually be involved?"
"Possible."
I hated that word.
"Do you have his signature?"
"We have an account opening card."
She slid over a copy.
Gavin Cole.
The signature looked convincing.
Very convincing.
I had seen Gavin sign payroll forms hundreds of times.
The G was right.
The long stroke on the l was right.
Even the little hook on the final e was right.
"What do you think?" Ortiz asked.
"I think it looks like his signature."
"Would he have had reason to receive money from the company?"
"No."
"Did he?"
"Not that I know."
Ortiz closed the folder.
"We're going to speak with him again."
I nodded.
Then I called Gavin into the office.
I did not soften it.
"Your name is on one of the receiving accounts."
He stopped walking.
"What?"
Ortiz showed him the document.
Gavin stared.
"That's my signature."
My heart sank.
Then he looked closer.
"No."
He took out his wallet.
"That's copied from this."
He handed Ortiz his driver's license.
We looked at the signature.
It was almost identical.
Not just similar handwriting.
Identical spacing.
Identical angle.
Identical tiny break in the G.
Ortiz's expression changed.
"When was your license copied at the restaurant?"
Gavin frowned.
"HR records."
"When I was promoted."
"How long ago?"
"Four years."
I stood.
"We keep scans of identification in the personnel archive."
Samir was called again.
Within an hour, he found access logs showing Gavin's personnel file had been opened three weeks earlier.
Using my credentials.
I felt sick.
"My password too?"
"Your old password," Samir said.
"The one you changed after the bank meeting."
"Where was it stored?"
He looked uncomfortable.
"Browser password cache on the office workstation."
"So someone in my office could access Gavin's ID scan."
"Yes."
"And copy his signature."
"Yes."
Gavin sat down hard.
"They really planned this."
I looked at him.
"For months."
Detective Ortiz did not say Lucas's name.
She did not need to.
She collected the logs and left.
That evening, I went to the hotel exhausted.
I was halfway through brushing my teeth when someone knocked on the door.
I froze.
No one was supposed to know my room number except Mara and Gavin.
The knock came again.
"Camilla?"
It was a woman's voice.
I looked through the peephole.
Beatrice stood in the hallway.
Alone.
I did not open the door.
"What do you want?"
"To talk."
"Call my attorney."
"Not about Lucas."
I almost laughed.
"Everything is about Lucas."
There was a long pause.
Then Beatrice spoke quietly.
"He lied to me too."
I stayed silent.
"Camilla, please."
I had never heard Beatrice say please to me.
Not once.
That frightened me more than her threats.
"What did he lie about?"
She leaned closer to the door.
"The money."
My hand tightened around the phone.
"What money?"
"The money I collected from the women."
"I know you sent it to LV Hospitality."
Silence.
Then a whisper.
"How do you know that?"
"Good night, Beatrice."
"Wait."
Her voice cracked.
"Lucas said it was going into the acquisition account."
I stopped.
"What acquisition?"
"Lumina."
She said the name like it already belonged to her.
"He said the money would be credited toward my share."
I stared through the peephole.
"You invested money you collected from friends for charity into a plan to take my restaurant?"
"It wasn't like that."
"It sounds exactly like that."
"He said the women were paying for lunch."
"Then why didn't you pay the restaurant?"
She had no answer.
"Good night."
"Camilla."
I waited.
Her next sentence was barely audible.
"Lucas took more from me than you know."
I closed my eyes.
"Then get a lawyer."
"I don't need a lawyer."
"Yes, you do."
"I need you to stop him."
I almost opened the door then.
Almost.
But something about the timing was wrong.
Beatrice had spent days attacking me publicly.
Now, after the court order and police involvement, she appeared at my hotel claiming she was a victim too.
Maybe she was.
Maybe she was acting.
I could no longer afford to decide based on emotion.
"Talk to Mara," I said.
"If you have information, give it through counsel."
Beatrice stood there for several seconds.
Then she turned away.
Before she reached the elevator, she looked back at my door.
"Ask Lucas about the house on Del Mar Mesa."
Then she left.
I called Mara immediately.
"What house?" she asked.
"I don't know."
"Do you own a house there?"
"No."
"Does Lucas?"
"Not that I know."
Mara went quiet.
May you like
"Then tomorrow we find out."
