Chapter 13 - WHERE SERENA WENT
For the first hour, everyone assumed Serena had panicked.
I did too.
She had every reason to run.
She had admitted an affair.
She had discovered that her name might be tied to shell companies.
She had signed a document later used in court against me.
Police were asking questions.
Lawyers were everywhere.
Running made emotional sense.
But the open condo door did not.
Neither did the missing backup drive.
Priya told Detective Ortiz that Serena's purse was gone but several essentials remained.
Her laptop was still on the desk.
Her prescription glasses were in the bathroom.
A half-finished cup of coffee sat beside the sink.
There was no sign of violence.
There was also no note.
Serena's phone went directly to voicemail.
By afternoon, Ortiz had requested location records through appropriate channels.
I was told almost nothing.
That was appropriate.
It also drove me insane.
At Lumina, I kept working.
The dining room had recovered some reservations after the clean health report circulated.
But every phone call made me flinch.
At 3:40 p.m., Priya called Mara.
Then Mara called me.
"They found Serena's car."
I gripped the phone.
"Where?"
"Airport parking."
"Did she fly somewhere?"
"Unknown."
"Was the car locked?"
"Yes."
"Anything inside?"
"Her work bag."
"No phone."
I sat down.
"Maybe she left."
"Maybe."
Mara sounded unconvinced.
"What aren't you saying?"
"The car entered the garage at 6:12 a.m."
"Security footage shows Serena driving."
Relief hit me.
"Then she's alive."
"At 6:12 yesterday morning, yes."
"Did she enter the terminal?"
"They are checking."
At 5:18, we got another answer.
Serena did not enter the terminal.
She walked from the garage to the passenger pickup area.
A black sedan collected her.
The plate was obscured by glare in the first camera angle.
A second camera caught part of it.
The car was registered to a private transportation company.
Detective Ortiz contacted the company.
The ride had been booked under a corporate account.
Mercer Coastal Group.
The company that supposedly did not exist yet.
My skin went cold.
"Lucas picked her up?"
"We don't know who was in the car," Mara said.
"But the ride was billed to that account."
At 6:00, Lucas's attorney contacted Mara with an offer to produce Serena voluntarily for an interview if certain conditions were met.
I stared at Mara when she told me.
"He has her?"
"His attorney says Serena contacted Lucas because she was frightened and wanted help leaving town."
"Do you believe that?"
"Belief is not useful yet."
"What conditions?"
"They want assurance that any materials she took from Lucas's laptop will not be used outside the family case."
I laughed in disbelief.
"That's what this is about."
"The files."
"It appears to be part of it."
"Can they hold her?"
"No."
"Is she being held?"
"We don't know."
Priya demanded direct contact with her client.
Two hours later, Serena finally called.
Priya put the call on speaker with Serena's permission.
Mara and I were present.
Serena sounded exhausted.
"I'm safe."
Priya's voice was controlled.
"Where are you?"
"A hotel."
"Which hotel?"
There was a pause.
"I don't want to say on the phone."
"Is Lucas with you?"
"No."
"Is anyone preventing you from leaving?"
"No."
Priya looked at us.
"Did Lucas arrange transportation yesterday morning?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
Serena started crying.
"Because he called me at five in the morning."
"He said police were going to arrest me for the bank accounts."
"He said Camilla was blaming everything on me."
I felt anger rise.
Priya glanced at me.
"Did he show you anything supporting that?"
"He sent screenshots."
"Of what?"
"Messages."
"They looked like texts between Camilla and Mara."
Mara's expression changed.
"What did they say?"
"That the easiest way out was to make me the architect of the shell companies."
I stood.
"I never wrote that."
Serena stopped crying for a second.
"Camilla?"
"I'm here."
"You said I could hear."
Priya nodded at the phone even though Serena could not see her.
I leaned toward it.
"I never sent a message saying that."
"Mara never sent me a message saying that."
"Lucas lied to you again."
Silence.
Then Serena whispered something I could barely hear.
"Oh my God."
Priya took over.
"Where is the backup drive?"
"Lucas has it."
My heart sank.
"How?"
"He said if I gave it to him, he could prove the files were manipulated and keep me from being charged."
Mara closed her eyes.
"Did you give him the only copy?"
Serena sniffed.
"I thought it was the only backup."
I looked at Mara.
Mara looked at me.
We both remembered the first thing Serena had said when she came to Lumina.
She had a second copy with a friend.
But Mara had created a forensic copy before anyone touched the original.
Lucas had recovered one drive.
Not the evidence.
"Serena," Priya said.
"You need to come back."
"I know."
"Can you leave the hotel safely?"
"Yes."
"Do not tell Lucas where you're going."
There was a long pause.
"He already knows."
"Why?"
"Because he paid for the room."
Priya swore quietly.
Detective Ortiz arranged for officers to meet Serena in a public location.
She returned that night.
She was shaken, embarrassed, and furious.
Lucas had manipulated her with fake screenshots.
Samir examined the images.
They were crude but effective.
The contact names were ours.
The message bubbles looked authentic.
But the timestamps were inconsistent with our actual devices.
One screenshot even used a profile photo Mara had changed months earlier.
Lucas had counted on fear doing the rest.
It had.
The next morning, Detective Ortiz obtained a copy of the Mercer Coastal transportation account information.
It showed more than Serena's airport ride.
There were dozens of charges over six months.
Trips to Harbor National Bank.
Trips to the Del Mar Mesa house.
Trips to Brent Holloway's office.
And one trip that caught my eye.
Lumina.
Three weeks earlier.
The night Lucas entered my office.
The ride record showed two passengers were picked up from the Del Mar Mesa house at 8:31 p.m.
One passenger was Lucas.
The other was not identified.
They were dropped near Lumina at 9:05.
Lucas appeared on camera at 9:18.
No second person appeared.
"Maybe they stayed in the car," I said.
Ortiz nodded.
"Maybe."
"Can we identify them?"
"We are trying."
The driver's trip notes contained one useful detail.
Passenger requested stop behind restaurant.
Older female remained in vehicle.
I read the line twice.
Older female.
Beatrice was the obvious possibility.
But obvious possibilities had become dangerous.
That afternoon, Beatrice's attorney called Mara.
He wanted to reschedule the cooperation meeting.
Mara asked a simple question.
"Was your client with Lucas at Lumina three weeks ago?"
There was a pause.
Then the attorney asked to call back.
He did forty minutes later.
"My client will answer that question in a formal interview."
"That's not an answer," Mara said.
"It is the answer I am authorized to give."
The next day, Beatrice sat down with Mara, her own lawyer, and Detective Ortiz.
I was not present.
Mara later told me the part relevant to my case.
Yes.
Beatrice had been in the car.
Yes.
She knew Lucas was entering Lumina after closing.
No.
She claimed she did not know he planned to access computer systems.
She said he told her he was retrieving financial documents that belonged to him.
And yes.
She had given him Chef Miguel's key.
My stomach dropped when Mara told me.
"How did she get Miguel's key?"
"She says Lucas took it from the locker, gave it to her at lunch, and asked her to make a copy."
"She copied it?"
"Yes."
"Where?"
"A hardware store."
"She admitted that?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
"She says she believed Lucas had a right to access the restaurant."
I stood and walked across the office.
"She helped him break in."
"Potentially."
"She copied a stolen key."
"She has admitted copying the key."
"And three weeks later someone used a physical key to steal evidence."
Mara nodded.
"That's why Ortiz is interested."
I turned back.
"Did Beatrice do that too?"
"She denies it."
"Do you believe her?"
"It doesn't matter what I believe."
I almost laughed.
Everyone around me had adopted that phrase.
Facts.
Evidence.
Proof.
I had spent years living inside feelings and excuses.
Now every important person in my life spoke like a chain-of-custody form.
It was strangely comforting.
Then Mara told me one more thing.
"Beatrice identified the person Lucas used for some of the fake vendor paperwork."
"Who?"
"Owen Price."
The banker.
"She says Lucas told her Owen could make documents look normal."
"Did she see him do it?"
"No."
"So it's Lucas's statement through Beatrice."
"Correct."
"Not proof."
Mara smiled slightly.
"You're learning."
I did not feel like I was learning.
I felt like I was discovering the architecture of a building after it collapsed on me.
That evening, Lumina received a certified letter from Harbor National Bank.
It concerned the Del Mar Mesa property loan.
The bank had identified me as a guarantor.
My supposed signature appeared on three pages.
At the bottom of one was a notarization.
The notary was not Beatrice.
It was a man named Owen Price.
May you like
The banker had notarized a signature I never made.
