Chapter 4 - The Woman in the Security Video
Daniel closed the gray box.
"What did Walter do?"
"He kept the original."
"I searched the house."
"Then he moved it before you got there."
"What exactly does the original prove?"
Voss sounded irritated.
"Enough."
Daniel paced.
I remained pressed against the wall behind the open door.
My lungs barely moved.
Voss continued.
"The original purchase documents establish Claire as purchaser and contain the trust instructions."
Trust?
I had never created a trust.
At least, I didn't remember creating one.
Daniel lowered his voice.
"Claire doesn't know about that."
"Maybe."
"She doesn't."
"You've been married seven years and you still underestimate her."
Daniel laughed softly.
"No. I understand Claire perfectly."
That hurt more than I expected.
Voss tapped the metal box.
"Then why did she change her signature last night?"
Silence.
My heart stopped.
Daniel knew.
"I noticed."
"And?"
"I'm handling it."
"Handle it faster."
Voss walked toward the window.
"We close the apartment tomorrow. After that, move the remaining funds."
"And the Carters?"
"Find the deed."
Daniel's voice changed.
"And if they won't give it up?"
Voss turned.
"Don't make me answer questions you already know the answer to."
I felt cold all over.
A few minutes later, they left the office.
I stayed hidden until I heard the front door close.
Then I ran to the window.
Daniel and Voss drove away together.
I called Rebecca.
She answered immediately.
"You need to leave the apartment tonight."
"I'm not leaving without evidence."
"You have evidence."
"Not enough."
"You heard them discussing your father."
"I know."
"Claire, listen to me. This is no longer only financial."
I looked at the life insurance document.
"I know."
I packed a small bag.
Before leaving, I copied files from Daniel's computer onto an encrypted drive.
Then I opened the gray metal box.
One item caught my attention.
A notary stamp.
LENA BROOKS.
The woman supposedly responsible for the video notarization.
I photographed it.
Then I found a flash drive marked LB.
I took it.
At Rebecca's office, we opened the drive on an isolated computer.
There were videos.
Dozens.
Remote notarizations.
Different people.
Different properties.
Then we found mine.
A woman appeared on screen.
Dark hair.
Cream blouse.
Glasses.
The video quality was deliberately poor.
She held up an identification card.
Mine.
She signed Claire Mercer.
The notary asked whether she understood the document.
"Yes."
The voice wasn't mine.
But it was familiar.
I replayed it.
Again.
Again.
Then I knew.
"I've heard her before."
"Who?" Rebecca asked.
"I don't know."
I searched my memory.
Parties.
Business dinners.
Daniel's office.
Then it hit me.
"His assistant."
Daniel's executive assistant was named Natalie Shaw.
I'd met her perhaps ten times.
She had dark hair.
A similar build.
And a voice exactly like the woman in the video.
Rebecca paused the frame.
"We need confirmation."
I searched social media.
Natalie had recently deleted most of her accounts.
But an old company page showed her photograph.
Same jawline.
Same eyebrows.
Same tiny mole beside the left side of her mouth.
It was her.
My husband had used his assistant to impersonate me.
Rebecca immediately contacted investigators.
By afternoon, an emergency filing had been made to stop the transfer of our apartment.
Daniel didn't know yet.
At least we hoped he didn't.
I went to my parents' hotel.
Dad was furious when I told him what I'd heard.
"He's afraid of the deed?"
"Yes."
Dad looked at Mom.
She nodded.
He stood.
"Then it's time."
"Time for what?"
He put on his jacket.
"Dad."
"Come with me."
We drove back to Delancey Street.
To the abandoned market stall.
I stared at him.
"You hid it here?"
"Nobody searches the place where they think you've been reduced to nothing."
He walked behind the stall.
One wooden plank was loose.
He removed it.
Inside the wall cavity was a plastic-wrapped envelope.
Dad handed it to me.
"Your mother and I never owned the house."
I frowned.
"What?"
"Not exactly."
I opened the envelope.
There was a trust document.
Six years earlier, when I'd purchased the property, my original attorney had advised structuring ownership through a family trust for my parents' protection.
I had forgotten.
The trust couldn't be sold without the consent of three parties.
Me.
My father.
And an independent trustee.
"Who is the trustee?"
Dad pointed to the bottom.
I read the name.
MARGARET ELLIS.
My former business partner.
I stared at him.
"Margaret never signed a transfer."
"Exactly."
That meant Daniel's documents weren't merely forged.
They were structurally impossible.
The house couldn't legally have been transferred the way he'd claimed.
"Why didn't you tell him?"
Dad's mouth tightened.
"I did."
"When?"
"The day he threw us out."
"And?"
"He smiled."
I felt a chill.
"What did he say?"
Dad looked directly at me.
"He said Margaret Ellis wouldn't be a problem much longer."
My phone rang.
Rebecca.
I answered.
"Claire, where are you?"
"With my father."
"Get somewhere secure."
"What happened?"
"We found Natalie Shaw."
"Good."
"No."
Rebecca's voice was tight.
"Someone found her before we did."
My stomach dropped.
"What does that mean?"
"She was admitted to St. Vincent's this morning after a hit-and-run."
I looked at Dad.
Rebecca continued.
"She's alive."
I exhaled.
"But she told police she wants to speak to you."
"Me?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
There was a pause.
"Because she says Daniel isn't the person running this."
I gripped the phone.
"Then who is?"
Rebecca lowered her voice.
"Natalie said she would only give the name to you in person."
We drove straight to the hospital.
A detective met us outside Natalie's room.
"Mrs. Mercer?"
"Yes."
"She has been asking for you."
"Can I go in?"
He nodded.
Natalie lay beneath white sheets, one arm in a cast, bruising across her face.
When she saw me, tears filled her eyes.
"I'm sorry."
I stood beside her bed.
"You pretended to be me."
"I know."
"You helped steal my parents' home."
"I know."
"Why?"
"Because they had my brother."
I stared at her.
"Who?"
She grabbed my wrist.
Her monitor accelerated.
"Daniel isn't in charge."
"Then who is?"
Natalie's eyes moved toward the hospital-room door.
Her face suddenly drained.
A shadow appeared beneath it.
Someone had stopped outside.
Natalie whispered one name.
May you like
"Voss."
Then the door handle began to turn.
