Chapter 5 - The Man Behind Eleanor
We tried calling Warren back.
Nothing.
By noon, his phone had been disconnected.
Julian wanted to go looking for him.
I stopped him.
“If he's frightened enough to disappear, chasing him will only make him run farther.”
“So what do we do?”
“We find out who frightened him.”
Julian paced beside the window.
“He said my mother wasn't the person we should fear.”
“I heard him.”
“Who could he mean?”
I already had a theory.
Dominic.
But something didn't fit.
Dominic was ruthless.
He was also predictable.
He protected the Vance family because the Vance family paid him.
The financial network I had investigated five years earlier was different.
It was sophisticated.
Layered.
Designed by someone who understood exactly how investigators worked.
I opened my laptop.
Julian stared at me.
“You brought that to the hospital?”
“I brought two.”
Despite everything, he almost laughed.
I opened the old case.
Eleven million dollars.
Thirty-seven transfers.
Nine companies.
Three states.
One recurring authorization code.
DV-17.
Julian leaned closer.
“DV.”
“Yes.”
“Dominic Vance?”
“That's what I assumed five years ago.”
“But?”
“But Dominic's middle name is Alexander.”
Julian stared at the screen.
“Then who is DV?”
I looked at him.
“You tell me.”
His expression slowly changed.
“My father.”
I knew Julian's father had died six years earlier.
“Name?”
“David Vance.”
The room became very quiet.
David Vance had supposedly died of a heart attack while traveling in Switzerland.
Six months before my investigation began.
Julian looked confused.
“That doesn't make sense.”
“Why?”
“My father was dead before those transfers.”
I turned the laptop toward him.
“The DV-17 authorization continued for fourteen months after his death.”
Julian stared at the screen.
“So somebody kept using his credentials.”
“Or he wasn't dead.”
Julian stood so quickly his chair fell backward.
“No.”
“Julian—”
“I saw the coffin.”
“Did you see him?”
He stopped.
I watched the answer appear on his face.
“No.”
The funeral had been closed-casket.
Julian hadn't questioned it.
Why would he?
His mother arranged everything.
I searched the old records again.
Then I found something I had missed years earlier.
A payment made three days after David Vance's funeral.
A private aviation company.
Zurich to Montreal.
Passenger identification encrypted.
But the billing account belonged to Vance Holdings.
Julian whispered, “Jesus.”
Then my phone rang.
Unknown number.
I answered.
Silence.
Then a man's voice.
Older.
Calm.
“Clara.”
I looked at Julian.
He saw my expression.
“Who is this?”
The man ignored my question.
“You were always better than the investigators they sent before you.”
My skin went cold.
“You know me?”
“I've known about you for five years.”
Julian moved closer.
The voice continued.
“Eleanor made a mistake bringing you into the family.”
“Who are you?”
A pause.
Then:
“Ask my son.”
The call ended.
Julian stared at me.
May you like
Neither of us needed to say it.
His father was alive.
