Chapter 13 - THE LOCKED WAREHOUSE
Mr. Hale told me not to contact Vanessa.
June requested the account-opening documents through the proper channels.
Daniel and I drove to the warehouse with Nora, who had stored venue decorations there under a longstanding agreement with our company.
The gate was chained.
The lock was new.
My key didn’t fit.
On the fence hung a notice.
CONTENTS SALE — FRIDAY.
I stared at it.
Inside were tables.
Lighting equipment.
Linen.
Client inventory.
Years of things my father had bought one careful purchase at a time.
Nora gripped the fence.
“My Christmas pieces are in there.”
Daniel called Mr. Hale.
I called the warehouse manager.
He answered on the first ring.
“Claire? I thought you were out of the country.”
“Who told you that?”
“Vanessa. She said you’d approved clearing the building.”
“Nothing is approved. Don’t release anything.”
He went quiet.
Then I heard him walking.
“She’s here.”
My stomach tightened.
“Where?”
“In the office.”
“Can you come outside?”
A side door opened.
The manager stepped out, followed by Vanessa.
She wore sunglasses despite the gray afternoon.
When she saw me, she stopped.
“You’re supposed to be on your honeymoon.”
“I changed my plans.”
She looked at Daniel.
“Clearly.”
“Open the gate,” I said.
“This is a company matter.”
“I own half the company.”
“Not if you signed the amendment.”
“I didn’t.”
She took off her sunglasses.
For one second, I saw the exhaustion beneath the makeup.
Then she covered it with anger.
“You think you can freeze every account and leave me with nothing?”
“You left your own fingerprints.”
Daniel stepped beside me.
“Where’s Eric?”
“Working.”
“At what?”
She ignored him.
The manager looked from one sister to the other.
I showed him the original operating agreement on my phone.
Then Mr. Hale spoke to him directly.
Minutes later, he opened the gate.
Vanessa stepped aside.
She knew the camera above the warehouse door was recording.
I knew she knew.
Inside, I went straight to the office cabinet containing original vendor records.
The doors stood open.
The shelves were empty.
Beside the desk sat a shredder.
Its bin overflowed with paper.
Vanessa folded her arms.
“Old files. We needed space.”
Then Nora bent beside the trash can.
She picked up a half-shredded page.
My father’s signature was still intact.
May you like
So was the heading.
LIFE INSURANCE BENEFICIARY CHANGE.
