CHAPTER 9 — THE WOMAN IN THE WHITE DRESS
Serena contacted me two days later.
The call came from a blocked number.
“Claire Bennett?”
Her voice was calm.
“You sent the flash drive.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because Arthur was going to let me take the blame.”
Serena admitted helping him create the synthetic recordings.
She admitted receiving stolen funds.
She also admitted knowing he had married me while still legally married to her.
“You knew about me for eight years?”
“I knew your name.”
“Did you know what he was doing to me?”
There was a long silence.
“I knew enough.”
I wanted to hate her.
Part of me did.
But Serena had information we needed.
She refused to reveal her location unless prosecutors promised witness protection.
An agreement was arranged.
She would meet federal agents at a train station the following morning.
She never arrived.
Security footage showed Serena entering the station at 6:42 a.m.
At 6:47, she noticed a man near the ticket machines.
She turned around and left through a side exit.
The man followed.
His face was hidden beneath a hood.
But the camera captured his shoes.
Custom brown leather.
Arthur owned an identical pair.
Arthur, however, was in jail.
Victoria reviewed the footage.
“Arthur isn’t the only person involved.”
Blackstone Harbor had employees, contractors, and private security.
Someone was trying to prevent Serena from testifying.
At 9:15 that evening, I received a text message.
A photograph showed Serena sitting in the back seat of a car.
She looked frightened but unharmed.
Beneath the photograph was a demand.
Withdraw every accusation against Arthur.
Release the holds on Aster Row Holdings.
Transfer the controlling shares of Bennett Ridge Capital within forty-eight hours.
If I refused, Serena would disappear permanently.
Victoria told me not to respond.
Federal agents began tracing the message.
Then another photograph arrived.
This one showed the folder taken from my father’s wrecked car.
Beside it was a newspaper bearing that day’s date.
The sender had both Serena and the evidence.
For the next twelve hours, agents searched traffic cameras, toll records, and abandoned properties.
Finally, they identified the car.
It belonged to a security company contracted by Blackstone Harbor Partners.
A tactical team located the vehicle outside an empty warehouse.
They entered just before dawn.
Serena was alive.
The folder was recovered.
One man was arrested.
Another escaped through a rear loading bay.
The man in custody was Blackstone Harbor’s chief security officer.
Inside his phone, investigators found messages arranging the abduction.
The messages came from a number registered to Arthur’s attorney, Grant Mercer.
When police arrived at Grant’s home, he was gone.
But on his desk, they found a copy of my father’s autopsy report.
Someone had circled one sentence in red ink.
No examination of the brake system was performed.
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And beneath it, Grant had written:
THE SECOND AUTOPSY MUST NEVER HAPPEN.
