Chapter 9 - THE MAN IN THE SUIT
His name was Daniel Cross.
My former financial advisor.
He had helped me set up my first investment account.
He had attended my wedding.
He had sent flowers when Frederick was born.
And apparently, he had been talking to my mother behind my back.
Harris showed me the messages.
Daniel: Connor has substantial equity.
Teresa: How much?
Daniel: Enough.
Teresa: Can it be accessed without selling?
Daniel: If title changes.
My hands shook.
Another message.
Teresa: He won’t sign.
Daniel: Then you need authorization.
Teresa: I can get signatures.
Daniel: Don’t tell me how.
That line made Harris snort.
“Classic.”
“What?”
“He wanted the money but didn’t want written proof he knew the signatures were forged.”
I stared at Daniel’s messages.
“Why would he do this?”
“Money.”
“Obviously.”
“Mason says Daniel expected thirty percent.”
I looked at Harris.
“Thirty percent of two hundred eighty thousand?”
“Yes.”
I laughed once.
It sounded ugly.
Everybody had a price.
Mason wanted forty grand.
Daniel wanted eighty-four.
My mother wanted the rest.
And Amy?
Amy got humiliation.
My son got a fever ignored because his grandmother didn’t want the party interrupted.
Harris leaned back.
“We’re building the case.”
“Building?”
“We need more than Mason’s word.”
“You have emails.”
“We have some emails. Defense attorneys love context.”
“What do you need?”
“Direct proof Teresa knowingly intended to forge your transfer.”
I thought of something.
“The party.”
“What about it?”
“She talked constantly.”
“So?”
“My mother likes to hear herself talk.”
Harris raised an eyebrow.
I pulled out my phone.
“We have a backyard security camera.”
“You said you installed those afterward.”
“The old one wasn’t security. It was a baby monitor camera we sometimes used outside when Frederick was in his playpen.”
“Was it recording?”
“I don’t know.”
We drove home.
I pulled the old app from a tablet.
The camera had cloud storage.
Seven days.
My hands nearly slipped as I opened Friday’s footage.
There she was.
Teresa.
Red dress.
Drink in hand.
I fast-forwarded.
5:02.
5:08.
5:11.
Then Mason entered the frame.
No one else was near them.
I turned up the volume.
Mason said, “I got the originals.”
Teresa smiled.
“Good.”
“What if Connor notices?”
“He won’t be home until seven.”
“And Amy?”
My mother looked toward the kitchen.
“She’s not going anywhere.”
Mason lowered his voice.
“What about the signatures?”
Teresa took a drink.
Then she said the sentence that ended any doubt.
“If Connor won’t sign over the house willingly, then Connor’s signature will.”
Harris stopped the video.
“Send me that file.”
I nodded.
Then movement on the screen caught my eye.
A man in a gray suit had just entered the backyard.
Daniel Cross.
Timestamp: 5:19 PM.
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Two minutes before I walked through the back door.
And in his hand was a black briefcase.
