Chapter 5 - The Proffer of Betrayal
Placer County Jail smelled of institutional floor wax, stale coffee, and cold stainless steel. Rebecca sat behind the reinforced glass of Consultation Room B, Arthur Ward beside her with a thick yellow legal pad. On the other side of the partition sat Elena Vance.
Gone was the sleek, designer-clad paralegal who had strutted through Rebecca’s kitchen two days after Toby’s funeral, tossing Rebecca’s clothes into trash bags and claiming the estate was legally Darren’s. Now, Elena wore an orange jumpsuit, her hair limp and unwashed, her makeup wiped clean to reveal pale, hollow cheeks and eyes darting nervously toward the deputy guarding the door.
"You look terrible, Elena," Rebecca said softly into the plastic telephone receiver.
Elena flinched, gripping her phone with trembling, unmanicured hands. "Rebecca... please. You have to believe me. Darren manipulated me. He told me the marriage was over years ago. He told me the house was his through an LLC investment, and that you were trying to bleed him dry in the divorce."
"Save the performance for your public defender," Arthur broke in smoothly through his extension. "You’re facing federal conspiracy, four counts of wire fraud, and falsification of real estate deeds. If you want us to even consider recommending leniency to the U.S. Attorney, you answer Rebecca’s questions truthfully. Starting with the property."
Elena swallowed hard, her eyes brimming with terrified tears. "The Lawson timberland... he wasn't just planning to flip the house. He made an under-the-table deal six months ago with Blackwood Crest Developments. A private equity firm from Dallas."
Rebecca felt a chill prickle the back of her neck. "Blackwood? That’s the luxury resort syndicate that tried to buy my grandfather out in 2018."
"Yes," Elena whispered, leaning closer to the glass. "They offered Darren four point two million dollars for the eight hundred acres of timber ridge behind the creek. But they needed clear, unencumbered title. As long as your family trust held the deed, they couldn't touch a single tree. Darren forged your signature on a quitclaim deed transferring the property to an offshore shell entity called Crestline Holdings in the Caymans."
"And Toby?" Rebecca’s voice dropped, turning deadly cold. "What did Toby have to do with this?"
Elena looked down, unable to meet Rebecca’s piercing gaze. "The trust had a succession clause. Arthur Ward wrote it ten years ago. If you died, the land didn't pass to Darren. It was locked in trust for Toby until he turned twenty-five. With Toby alive, Darren could never sell the property without court-appointed trust oversight. The boy had to inherit everything."
Rebecca’s heart slammed against her ribs like a trapped bird. "And when Toby got sick? When Toby caught the pneumonia that took him?"
Elena’s lips trembled violently. "Darren had already signed the preliminary purchase agreement with Blackwood. If the deal didn't close by the end of this month, he owed a seven-hundred-thousand-dollar breach-of-contract penalty. He was desperate, Rebecca. You don't know the men he took money from."
"Did he do something to my son?" Rebecca’s voice was barely a whisper, but it carried the weight of a sledgehammer against the glass.
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"No! No, I swear to God!" Elena sobbed, tears spilling down her cheeks. "Toby was sick, truly sick. But Darren... when Toby spiked that hundred-and-five fever that night... Darren told you the storm was too bad to drive down the mountain. He told you the roads were blocked. But Rebecca... the highway wasn't blocked that night. He deliberately delayed taking him to the hospital by four hours."
The room seemed to spin. Rebecca’s vision blurred with white-hot fury as the air vanished from her lungs.
