Chapter 15 - CHLOE’S PRICE
Chloe wanted immunity.
Of course she did.
We met in a lawyer’s conference room.
No chandeliers.
No wedding dress.
No audience.
She wore sweatpants and a baseball cap.
I barely recognized her.
She looked smaller.
Not kinder.
Just smaller.
Her attorney spoke first.
“My client is willing to provide evidence.”
The federal investigator asked,
“In exchange for?”
“A cooperation agreement.”
I leaned back.
Chloe looked at me.
“I know where the second ledger is.”
“Then tell them.”
“I want protection.”
I laughed.
“You wanted me arrested yesterday.”
Her face tightened.
“I know.”
“No, I don’t think you do.”
She looked away.
I studied her.
“You called me cheap trash for three years.”
“I know.”
“You tried to plant your ring on me.”
“I know.”
“You signed documents using my property.”
“I didn’t understand those.”
I raised a finger.
“No.”
She stopped.
“Don’t make yourself stupid to make yourself innocent.”
That landed.
She looked down.
“I knew enough.”
There.
Better.
Her attorney shifted uncomfortably.
Chloe’s voice became quieter.
“I thought it was family money.”
“It wasn’t.”
“I know that now.”
“You knew my name was on the paper.”
She swallowed.
“Yes.”
“Then you knew enough.”
Silence.
The investigator leaned forward.
“Where is the ledger?”
Chloe stared at him.
“My mother’s wine cellar.”
My father frowned.
“At the lake house?”
“No.”
Chloe shook her head.
“At her main house.”
Everyone exchanged looks.
Police had already searched it.
Chloe explained.
“There’s a false wall behind the climate-control panel.”
Of course there was.
Rich people became ridiculous when hiding crimes.
The investigator asked,
“How do you know?”
Chloe hesitated.
“Because I helped put it there.”
My father muttered,
“Wonderful.”
Chloe’s face flushed.
“The ledger has everything.”
“Names?”
“Yes.”
“Accounts?”
“Yes.”
“Payments?”
“Yes.”
She looked at me.
“And something about your mother.”
The room changed.
My father went still.
“What?”
Chloe looked nervous.
“I don’t know what it means.”
She slid a photograph across the table.
It showed one ledger page.
A payment made nineteen years ago.
Recipient:
M. ASHFORD ESTATE INVESTIGATION.
My mother had died nineteen years ago.
I stared at my father.
He looked as shocked as I felt.
Chloe whispered,
“My mother kept this page separate.”
I picked it up.
Below the payment was a note.
Mercer consultant retained to suppress findings.
My father took the photograph.
His hand shook.
I had never seen that before.
“Dad?”
He didn’t answer.
“Dad.”
His voice came out rough.
“Your mother’s death was ruled an accident.”
I knew.
Car crash.
Rain.
Mountain road.
Driver lost control.
My father sat down.
“I hired an investigator back then.”
My heart began pounding.
“What did he find?”
My father looked at me.
“He disappeared before he gave me the final report.”
Nobody spoke.
May you like
Chloe whispered,
“My mother may have had it.”
