Chapter 9 - THE OTHER WOMAN'S VERSION
For three days, Paige and I communicated only through lawyers.
That was safer.
It was also unbearable.
There are some facts that can be transmitted through email and still feel like paperwork.
There are others that need a human voice before they become real.
On Friday afternoon, Denise proposed a joint meeting.
Paige wanted to tell me what had happened in her own words.
Lena asked whether I wanted to do it.
My first instinct was no.
My second was that refusing to hear her would leave Alistair controlling another part of the story.
"I'll meet her," I said.
We used a neutral conference room in Denise's office.
Paige arrived wearing jeans, a gray coat, and no makeup.
She looked younger than she had at the hospital.
She also looked exhausted.
For several seconds, neither of us spoke.
Then she said the only thing that made sense.
"I'm sorry."
I looked at her.
"For which part?"
Her eyes dropped.
"All of it."
"That's not specific enough."
Denise shifted slightly, but Paige nodded.
"You're right."
She clasped her hands together.
"I'm sorry I stayed after I learned you were not separated."
The sentence hurt because it was honest.
"When did you learn that?"
"Matty was almost two."
"You told me a year."
"It was fourteen months."
"Why did you stay?"
Paige looked at me directly.
"Because I was scared."
"Of him?"
"Of everything."
She swallowed.
"I had stopped working."
"Because he asked you to?"
"Yes."
"You depended on him."
"Completely."
"And you knew he was married."
"Eventually."
"That does not erase what you did."
"I know."
There was no defense in her voice.
That mattered more than tears would have.
I sat back.
"Start at the beginning."
Paige met Alistair at a corporate event four years earlier.
She was coordinating a product launch for a hotel.
He told her he was separated.
He said his wife lived mostly for work.
He said the marriage had become a legal formality.
He showed her a second apartment he claimed was his temporary place during the separation.
That apartment was the Edina condo.
North Lake Residential had purchased it only weeks before.
"Did he ever show you divorce papers?" I asked.
"No."
"Did you ask?"
"Yes."
"What did he say?"
"That lawyers were handling it slowly because of property."
I almost laughed.
I was the property lawyer in the story without knowing I was in it.
Paige continued.
When she became pregnant, Alistair cried.
He told her Matty was the child he had wanted for years.
He said he would finalize his divorce before the baby was born.
Then George and Martha entered the picture.
"They knew before I did," Paige said.
"Knew what?"
"That he wasn't leaving you."
My hands went cold.
"Explain."
"Martha came to see me when I was seven months pregnant."
"Alone?"
"Yes."
"What did she say?"
Paige stared at the table.
"She told me I needed to be patient."
"Patient for what?"
"For the right time."
"What did that mean?"
"She said Alistair couldn't upset the company."
Of course.
The company again.
"Did she say he was still living with me?"
"Yes."
"That was the first time you knew?"
"The first time I knew for certain."
"And you stayed."
Paige flinched.
"Yes."
I let the silence sit.
She deserved it.
So did I.
"What did George tell you?"
"He handled money."
"What money?"
"Everything."
"Be specific."
"Rent, medical bills, later the condo expenses, childcare, insurance."
"Did you receive cash?"
"Sometimes checks."
"From whom?"
"North Lake."
"For what purpose?"
"Household support."
I looked at Lena.
That sounded less like ordinary child support and more like an entity funding a household.
But facts would decide that.
"Did you ever receive money directly from Finch Dynamics?"
Paige hesitated.
"One time."
"How much?"
"Thirty thousand dollars."
"Why?"
"Alistair said it was an advance for consulting work."
"Did you do consulting work?"
"No."
Denise placed a hand near Paige's arm.
"We have already discussed that issue and will address it through counsel."
I nodded.
"When was this?"
"Two years ago."
"What happened to the money?"
"George told me to transfer twenty-eight thousand to Meridian."
I stared at her.
"Why?"
"He said it was correcting an accounting mistake."
"And you kept two thousand?"
"Alistair told me to."
"Did you ask why?"
"I thought it was reimbursement for expenses."
My mind began building another timeline.
Money from Finch Dynamics to Paige.
Most of it then redirected to Meridian.
A circular path.
Possibly meaningless.
Possibly not.
"Do you have records?"
"My bank may."
"Then your attorney can handle that."
Paige nodded.
Then she reached into her bag.
Denise stopped her.
"Tell them first."
Paige looked embarrassed.
"I kept something from the safe."
My attention sharpened.
"You told us the safe disappeared."
"It did."
"Then what did you keep?"
"A photograph."
"Of what?"
"The inside of it."
I frowned.
"Why did you photograph the inside of his safe?"
Her face reddened.
"Because I stopped trusting him."
That answer was more believable than almost anything else she had said.
Denise placed a printed photograph on the table.
The safe contained stacks of documents, two watches, envelopes, a flash drive, and a blue binder.
The binder's spine had a label.
PROJECT HARBOR.
"What is Project Harbor?" I asked.
Paige shook her head.
"I don't know."
Then she pointed to the envelope beneath it.
My name was written on the front.
J. ROSS - PERSONAL.
I stared at it.
"Did you open that?"
"No."
"Did you ever see Alistair open it?"
"Once."
"What was inside?"
"Copies of documents."
"What documents?"
"I only saw one clearly."
"Which one?"
Paige swallowed.
"Your passport."
My entire body went cold.
"What?"
"A copy of your passport."
I had given Alistair a copy years ago when we traveled internationally.
There was no obvious reason for him to keep it in a secret safe at Paige's apartment.
"Anything else?"
"Something that looked like a signature page."
"Mine?"
"I think so."
The forged guarantee immediately came to mind.
Lena leaned forward.
"Paige, did you ever see Alistair practice Jacqueline's signature?"
Paige's eyes widened.
"No."
"Did you see George do it?"
"No."
"Did anyone ask you to sign Jacqueline's name?"
"Never."
Good.
We stayed with facts.
Then Paige told us about Project Harbor.
She had first heard the phrase eighteen months earlier.
Alistair and George used it when they thought she was asleep.
She remembered one argument clearly.
George had said, "Harbor only works if the paper trail is clean."
Alistair replied, "Jackie will sign when the timing is right."
Paige had assumed they were discussing a business deal.
Now she was not sure.
Neither was I.
"Did Martha ever mention Harbor?" I asked.
"Once."
"What did she say?"
"She told Alistair not to discuss Harbor around Matty because children repeat things."
A three-year-old had better operational security than the adults around him.
That almost made me smile.
Almost.
Then Paige said something I was not expecting.
"There was another woman."
The room went still.
"Another woman besides you and me?"
"Not like that."
"Who?"
"Someone from the company."
"Name?"
"I don't know."
"What did she look like?"
"Older than me."
"How old?"
"Maybe forty."
"What did she do?"
"She brought documents to the condo twice."
"When?"
"Last winter."
"Did you hear her name?"
Paige thought.
"Alistair called her Vee."
I knew no one at Finch Dynamics named Vee.
"Anything else?"
"She was angry the second time."
"About what?"
"Money."
"What did she say?"
Paige closed her eyes, trying to remember.
"She said, 'I am not taking the fall for Harbor.'"
I felt Lena straighten beside me.
"And Alistair?"
"He told her George would handle it."
Dad handles.
The handwritten note.
The authorization.
The entities.
The storage unit.
George was everywhere.
"Did you see her car?" I asked.
Paige nodded.
"Black Audi."
"License plate?"
"No."
"Anything memorable?"
"A sticker in the back window."
"What kind?"
"A University of Wisconsin alumni sticker."
It was not much.
But it was something.
That evening, Gavin searched publicly available professional records and old company materials.
There had been a Finch Dynamics employee named Veronica Shaw.
She had served as controller before Nolan became CFO.
She left the company fourteen months earlier.
Her LinkedIn profile said she was now an independent consultant.
Her undergraduate degree was from the University of Wisconsin.
I stared at the profile photograph.
She was forty-two.
Dark hair.
Serious expression.
A black Audi appeared in one photograph from a charity event.
"Do not contact her yet," Lena said.
"I won't."
We did not need to.
At 9:18 that night, Veronica Shaw sent me an email herself.
Subject line: PROJECT HARBOR.
The body contained only nine words.
May you like
If Paige is talking, Alistair has already lost control.
