Chapter 12 - THE HOUSE THAT DID NOT EXIST
The house on Del Mar Mesa existed.
It had five bedrooms, a pool, a three-car garage, and a view across the canyon.
It had been purchased nine months earlier for $2.1 million.
The buyer was a limited liability company called Copper Ridge Residential LLC.
I had never heard of it.
Mara's investigator traced the manager to another company.
That company led to a trust.
The trust's mailing address led to a law office used by Brent Holloway.
No document publicly listed Lucas as owner.
But a utility bill on Serena's flash drive did.
LUCAS MERCER.
Service address: the Del Mar Mesa house.
I stared at the scanned bill.
"He has a two-million-dollar house?"
"Possibly access to one," Mara corrected.
"Ownership structure is still unclear."
"Did Serena know?"
"She says no."
I looked at Serena across the conference table.
Her attorney sat beside her.
"I thought the condo was temporary," Serena said.
"He showed me photos of this place once."
"He said it belonged to a client."
"Did he take you there?"
"Never."
Mara's investigator placed another document on the table.
A renovation invoice.
Kitchen work.
Custom cabinetry.
Wine storage.
Total: $168,000.
The customer listed was Copper Ridge Residential.
The payment source on the invoice was Pacific Event Logistics.
I felt my stomach turn.
"Lumina paid for his house."
Elena shook her head slightly.
"We can say money moved from Lumina to Pacific Event Logistics."
"Pacific then appears to have paid this contractor."
"We need complete bank records to establish the path cleanly."
I looked at her.
"But that's what it looks like."
"Yes."
Her answer was quiet.
The number we had been tracking climbed again.
Two hundred forty-seven thousand.
Then three hundred six.
Then three hundred seventy-two.
Every document opened another door.
At noon, Detective Ortiz called Mara.
Harbor National had preserved records connected to the accounts.
A court process was underway to obtain them.
Owen Price, the banker from Brent's calendar, had hired counsel.
No one said he had done anything wrong.
But people who expected routine questions did not usually retain criminal defense attorneys overnight.
I kept that thought to myself.
At 1:30 p.m., Beatrice's attorney contacted Mara.
That was new.
Beatrice finally had counsel.
She wanted to provide information in exchange for what the letter called "a global resolution of disputed family issues."
I read the phrase twice.
"She wants immunity?"
"She can't get immunity from you," Mara said.
"Only prosecutors can make certain charging agreements."
"What can I give her?"
"Potentially settle civil claims."
"Agree on repayment."
"Make no promises about criminal matters."
"Do you want to meet?"
I thought about the hotel door.
He lied to me too.
"Yes."
The meeting happened the next morning in Mara's office.
Beatrice looked ten years older.
No cream suit.
No diamonds.
No theatrical makeup.
She wore a plain gray sweater and held a legal pad she never opened.
Her lawyer did most of the talking.
Beatrice wanted the lunch debt resolved.
She wanted protection from a lawsuit by Lumina.
She wanted me to stop referring to her online conduct as defamatory.
And she wanted confirmation that I would not pursue her house.
I frowned.
"Her house?"
Mara's eyes narrowed.
Beatrice's lawyer looked at her.
"We discussed this."
Beatrice stared at the table.
"Lucas borrowed against my home."
I went still.
"How much?"
"Five hundred thousand."
"For what?"
"Mercer Coastal."
My mouth went dry.
"You gave him half a million dollars?"
"I signed a home equity loan."
"He said it was temporary."
"He said when Lumina transferred, I would be repaid from the new financing."
I stared at her.
"Transferred."
She did not look at me.
"You mean when you took my company."
Her lawyer intervened.
"Mrs. Mercer understands that characterization is disputed."
"No."
My voice sharpened.
"Let's not clean this up."
"She believed my restaurant would be transferred into a company owned by Lucas and herself."
"Correct?"
Beatrice looked at me.
For once, there was no smile.
"Yes."
The word made the room feel colder.
"And the lunch?"
She swallowed.
"Lucas told me to provoke you."
"You didn't need much convincing."
Her eyes flashed.
There she was.
The old Beatrice had not disappeared.
She was only frightened.
"You always looked down on me."
I almost laughed.
"I cooked for you for free for years."
"You resented every minute."
"Because you treated my restaurant like your pantry."
"Because you never made Lucas feel like a man."
Mara said my name quietly.
A warning.
I stopped.
Beatrice's lawyer rubbed his forehead.
"Mrs. Mercer, please answer factual questions."
Beatrice took a breath.
"Lucas said if you tolerated the lunch, it proved you were still afraid of losing him."
"And if I refused?"
"We would go public."
"We?"
"He wrote the talking points."
My chest tightened.
"The video you posted?"
"He gave me the outline."
"The fake reviews?"
She hesitated.
"I asked some friends to leave reviews."
"Friends who had never eaten at Lumina?"
"Some."
"The health complaint?"
"Not me."
"The supplier emails?"
"Not me."
"The payroll file?"
"I didn't know about that until I saw the news."
I studied her face.
I had no idea whether she was telling the truth.
"The fifteen thousand two hundred dollars?"
Beatrice's lawyer shifted.
"My client is prepared to address those funds."
"Address them how?"
"By reimbursing the women."
"From what money?"
Beatrice looked away.
"I don't have it."
"Because you sent it to Lucas."
"Yes."
"Knowing it wasn't yours?"
"They gave it to me."
"For lunch and charity."
"I was going to make the donation later."
"With what?"
She slammed one palm on the table.
"I made a mistake."
I looked at her.
"No."
"You made a plan."
Her face twisted.
"And you think you're perfect?"
"No."
"You think because you work sixty hours a week, you're better than everyone."
"No."
"You made my son feel useless."
There it was again.
The excuse beneath all the excuses.
I leaned forward.
"Lucas felt useless because he wanted the reward of building something without building it."
Beatrice went silent.
"I never stopped him from starting his own company."
"I never stopped him from investing his own money."
"I never stopped him from working beside me."
"He didn't want beside me."
I pointed at the table.
"He wanted above me."
Her lawyer looked down.
Beatrice's eyes filled with tears.
For once, I did not know whether they were real.
"He's my son."
"I know."
"What was I supposed to do?"
"Not help him steal from me."
She flinched.
Silence filled the room.
Then Mara asked the question that mattered.
"Mrs. Mercer, did Lucas ever ask you to sign Camilla's name?"
Beatrice froze.
Her lawyer turned toward her.
That reaction was enough.
Mara leaned forward.
"Beatrice."
"Did he?"
Beatrice's face changed.
"Once."
My heart slammed against my ribs.
"On what?"
She stared at the legal pad.
"A guarantee."
Mara's voice became very quiet.
"For what loan?"
"The Del Mar Mesa house."
I felt all the air leave the room.
"You forged my name on a loan?"
"I thought you would agree later."
I stood.
Mara immediately stood too.
"Camilla."
I could barely hear her.
"You signed my name?"
Beatrice looked terrified now.
"Lucas said it was temporary."
"You signed my name."
"He said because you were married, it was basically the same approval."
I laughed.
The sound frightened even me.
"Basically?"
Her lawyer spoke quickly.
"We need to pause."
"No," Mara said.
"We are done for today."
She gathered our papers.
"Any further communication comes through counsel."
I walked out before I said something I would regret.
In the elevator, I stared at my reflection in the mirrored wall.
I had spent a week discovering stolen money.
Now I had learned my signature may have been forged onto debt tied to a two-million-dollar house.
When the elevator doors opened, Mara's phone rang.
She answered.
Her face changed.
"Who is this?"
She listened.
Then she looked at me.
"Where?"
Another pause.
"Do not touch anything."
She ended the call.
"What happened?"
"Serena didn't show up for her meeting with Priya this morning."
My stomach tightened.
"So?"
"Priya went to the condo."
"The door was open."
"Serena is gone."
May you like
"And the backup copy of the flash drive is missing."
