Chapter 3 - CLAIRE’S SECRET
Daniel left the law office without saying goodbye.
Alan followed him into the hallway.
“Daniel.”
He kept walking.
“Daniel.”
Alan grabbed his arm.
Daniel spun around.
“Take your hand off me.”
Alan did.
“You go home angry, you lose control.”
“My wife just told me Marcus knows what she did.”
“We don’t know what that means.”
“I’m going to find out.”
“Then listen before you accuse.”
Daniel stared at him.
Alan lowered his voice.
“If Claire is involved, she may lie.”
Daniel’s face hardened.
“And if she isn’t?”
“Then she may be the only person who can tell us what Marcus is doing.”
Daniel drove home in twenty-three minutes.
It usually took forty.
Claire was waiting in the kitchen.
No makeup.
Hair tied back.
Hands wrapped around a cold cup of coffee.
Daniel walked in and closed the door.
“Tell me.”
She looked at him.
“Tell you what?”
His anger rose instantly.
“Don’t do that.”
“Do what?”
“Pretend.”
Claire stood.
“I’m not pretending.”
Daniel pulled the bank statement from his jacket and slapped it onto the island.
Her face changed.
That was all he needed.
“You know.”
Claire looked down.
“Daniel—”
“You know.”
“Yes.”
His chest tightened.
“Why is almost two million dollars sitting in your account?”
“It’s not what you think.”
“Everybody says that right before telling you exactly what you think.”
“Keep your voice down.”
“My money is being stolen.”
“Our money.”
“No. Company money.”
“And I know that.”
“Then explain it.”
Claire looked toward the windows.
Daniel noticed.
“Are you expecting someone?”
“No.”
“Then why do you keep looking outside?”
“Because I don’t know if Marcus had me followed.”
Daniel went still.
“What?”
Claire took a breath.
“Three months ago, Marcus came to me.”
“For what?”
“He said he found irregularities in one of the company investment accounts.”
Daniel laughed once.
No humor in it.
“And you didn’t tell me?”
“He made it sound minor.”
“Marcus makes a house fire sound like a barbecue.”
“I know that now.”
“What did he ask you to do?”
“Nothing at first. Then he asked whether I still had the Brookfield trust account.”
Daniel remembered it.
Claire’s father had left her a small portfolio years earlier.
Mostly inactive.
Private.
Separate from their marriage.
“I told him yes.”
“And?”
“He said Caldwell needed a temporary holding account while an acquisition cleared.”
Daniel stared at her.
“You gave him your account?”
“No.”
Claire’s voice sharpened.
“I told him absolutely not.”
“Then why is the money there?”
“Because six weeks later I found a deposit.”
“How much?”
“Four hundred thousand.”
Daniel stopped.
“What did you do?”
“I called Marcus.”
“And?”
“He told me it was a bookkeeping error.”
Daniel laughed bitterly.
“You believed him?”
“For about ten minutes.”
She went to a cabinet and pulled out a folder.
“I started tracking everything.”
Daniel stared at the folder.
“You investigated my brother without telling me?”
“I was trying to make sure I was right.”
“For three months?”
“I was trying to protect you.”
“Stop saying that.”
Claire flinched.
Daniel hated himself for it but kept going.
“You don’t hide something like this to protect me.”
“I knew what Marcus meant to you.”
“And what do you think you mean to me?”
Claire’s eyes filled.
She looked away.
Daniel’s anger cracked, but only slightly.
She pushed the folder toward him.
“I found transfers connected to Sterling.”
Daniel opened it.
Inside were dates.
Account numbers.
Names.
Companies.
Then a photograph.
Marcus sitting at a restaurant with a man Daniel recognized.
Victor Hale.
Senior compliance officer at Sterling Financial.
Daniel looked up.
“When was this?”
“Six weeks ago.”
“Why were you following him?”
“I wasn’t.”
“Then who took this?”
Claire hesitated.
Daniel felt the room tighten.
“Claire.”
“I hired someone.”
“You hired a private investigator?”
“I didn’t know who else I could trust.”
Daniel stared at her like he had never seen her before.
Then her phone rang.
Unknown number.
Claire went pale.
She answered.
“Hello?”
Silence.
Her face changed.
“What?”
Daniel stepped closer.
Claire looked at him.
All the blood had drained from her cheeks.
“What is it?”
She held the phone away.
A man’s voice came through the speaker.
Calm.
Almost friendly.
May you like
“Mrs. Caldwell, you should have stopped when you had the chance.”
Then the line went dead.
